After I finished Dombey and Son a few weeks ago I, though bogged down in the cunning, jealous quarrels of Strawberry Panic (see the post from the 30th of last month, below), I began Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. Finding that "great and challenging novel based on a supreme belief in the rights of the individual" awkward and somewhat anti-inspiring, due to its fidelity to a confused and inorganic philosophy, I turned to an exposition of a
more desirable and less facetious ideal. I began The Conservative Foundations of the Liberal Order: Defending Democracy Against Its Modern Enemies and Immoderate Friends by Daniel J. Mahoney, chair of Political Science at Assumption College, intellectual mentor, and good friend.
The Conservative Foundations is published by the Intercollegiate Studies Institute, a traditional conservative leaning academic publisher, and may be purchased directly from their website; lest lay readers fear that a conservative academic press publishes only a staid run of books, as this sign from the site shows, they too know how to have a good time. The book covers the thought of a slightly heterogeneous variety of thinkers who have best explained how our liberal democratic order presupposes a variety of non-democratic inheritances--the nation, religious piety, the integrity of the family, and the noble love of freedom--necessary to prevent the depoliticization of the West and a descent into nihilism, and to preserve respect for the human person. There are, in Professor Mahoney, many principles which lead him to his views, but in this work he generally argues from a conservative liberal perspective (the liberal order is best served by conservative means). A testy traditionalist such as our Pundit will find points of strong agreement and steadfast disagreement on almost every page.
Mahoney begins the work with a striking quote from philosopher Michael Polanyi. In part it reads,
Tom Paine could proclaim the right of each generation to determine its institutions anew, since the range of his demands was in fact very modest. He unquestionably accepted the continuity of culture and of the order of private property as the framework of self-determination. (vii)
Not to mention the obstacles to the "right of each generation to determine its institutons anew," if culture is seen as a social construct composed of unattached individuals, to whom all overbearing "institutions" are seen as illegitimate oppressors! This is the case with the anarchists Mahoney derides later. Even from this point, though, one wonders whether the likes of Paine and his radical polemic are worth preserving with such contrary means. Indeed, the fortuitous and unnecessary nature of the circumstances of the American founding is a major theme in The Conservative Foundations. Describing the thought of Orestes Brownson in his The American Republic, he observes,
the founders' practical achievement was in decisive respects better than their theory. On the theoretical plane, they endorsed social-contract theory, the conceit that the political community is an artificial construct of free and equal individuals who voluntarily depart what Locke called the 'inconveniences' of the 'state of nature.' However, they were not fully aware of all the metapolitical implications of this doctrine. As Tocqueville appreciated, it could be applied to every aspect of human life and even to the governance of the cosmos itself. But as wise and prudent statesmen the founders respected America's unwritten or 'providential' constitution, the habits and mores of the American people so eloquently described by John Jay in Federalist 2, as well as the 'territorial' character of American democracy. (5-6)
In other words, the Americans are a nation in the original sense, but in the tradition of their founders can recognize themselves as such only by conceit. From this, the astute reader will note that by saying that this theory, endorsed in the Declaration of Independence, can be applied "even to the governance of the cosmos itself," Mahoney acknowledges that classical liberalism is a precursor of the nihilizing deconstructionism he rightly ridicules when he discusses Raymond Aron and May 1968. He sees the founders' prudence as an example to be followed, and is hopeful that statesmen of moderation can continue to work in their tradition. Against this, I can only point to a quotation, in which Aron works toward an interpretation of Edmund Burke's writings on the Revolution in France:
They can be read as definitive condemnations of political rationalism--or of ideological fanaticism. (9)
I answer that political rationalism is ideological fanaticism. Political communities are essentially organic, not rational; reason can touch on the goods of the political order, but only imperfectly. Insistence on rational politics encourages fanaticism, or where zeal is lacking, deferential mediocrity, as in the spectacle of Christian politicians enacting secularism to save democracy from the influence of the influence of religion, sometimes in earnest. Therefore, it would seem that advocates of moderation should reject principles that are more likely to discourage prudence than be subject to it. Mahoney and I recognize the same facts and tendencies--Max Weber would be proud--but reach different conclusions as to what must be done. Yet we do agree when he criticizes efforts by the likes of Jacques Maritain and the last Roman Pontiff to "baptize" democracy for Christianity (46-47), preferring "a Christian religion faithful to its own wisdom" (49).
He praises Churchill and de Gaulle as the finest statesmen of the 20th Century; while I am not prepared to offer a definitive alternative duo, I do contest, for example, the greatness of any Prime Minister who "suggests 'we must take the loss with the gain. On the uplands there are no fine peaks," or in Mahoney's language "We must resign ourselves, then, for the most part to a kind of decent mediocrity" (61), and question whether de Gaulle "saved his beloved France... from disgrace" in 1958 (65). On the other hand, he follows the bothersome practice of begrudging violent fanatics these same virtues, especially courage, which they obviously exemplify, whether we like it or not. (Currently Anders Behring Breivik is subject to this same light dismissal.) His understanding of the totalitarian phenomenon is hardly to be surpassed; he emphasizes the similarities of communism and national socialism, and the similar conditions in which they arose, though I think it might have been of interest to discuss how the one was simply an intensification of certain liberal tendencies, while the other offered an illiberal alternative ideology.
Perhaps the best, and maybe the most relevant chapter, is on May 1968, and Raymond Aron's dissention from the foolishness of the '68. This passage caught my interest:
The partisans of 1968 were mesmerized by the vision of direct democracy in an industrial society and appealed to "participation" ("autogestion") as the only legitimate governing principle within every educational, social, economic, and political institution. Authority as such was identified with domination and repression. (97)
Cute how college students thought the ecomony et al could be run by plebiscite. Unfortunately this "antinomian" ideology, whose slogans included "Demand the impossible," "It is forbidden to forbid," and "Take your desires for realities," is the philosophy of the legion "immoderate friends" of the title. "[T]he thought of '68," he paraphrases Roger Scruton, "became the official philosophy of the humanities in universities throughout the world," (99). Given the earlier analysis of democracy's incongruity with Christian piety, the natural order, and political prudence, I would take this development as evidence that democratic zeal is unlikely to suffer moderation, and that informed conservatives ought to reject intellectual accomodation to the liberal order. To cite Alain Besançon by way of Mahoney, "If the American and French revolutions installed democracy in the political realm, ' '68 has extended the field of democracy to the whole of the social order," or alternatively, "the revolution is not finished," (101). No, it is not! I have a hunch that the tweeting mobs letting it all hang out in Syria and Egypt, the rebels in Libya united around nothing except anti-authoritarianism, and the hapless NEETs lately making a scene in Spain's M-15 protests, are
the harbinger of an attempt to actually govern by Blackberry. Revolution: It's the only NEET thing to do! (In other news, NEETs aren't all that bad; a new anime, Kamisama no Memo-chou, features a colorful agency of NEET detectives). As I see it, Professor Mahoney does have a noble vision, and one likely to appeal to conservatives, if not unhardened liberals. However, what he desires amounts to, to negate the usual saying, A Revolution That Does Not Devour Its Own Children. No, I do not believe that is likely, or desirable, or, for those who appreciate the goods of the soul and have a sense of distance, or who simply want the peace and loveliness of Christian order,* intellectually coherent.
There are also excellent sections presenting what I thought the most balanced and fair treatment of neoconservative foreign policy I have seen, as well as a great chapter on Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, on whom Mahoney is an expert. The only thing I take issue with is one passage he takes right from Solzhenitsyn, so I must disagree with the pair of them.
Let us go back to the 1920s and 1930s. The best minds of Europe were full of admiration for communist totalitarianism. (133-134)
Buy the book. In the folkways of my native Northampton's street artists, I appeal, "Help starving conservative professors at occasionally hostile Catholic colleges!" For the self-interested and the money watchers, conservatives will appreciate Mahoney's great expression of the ideals of mainstream but genuine conservatism, liberals will bow in shame before his exposition of the vacuity of their lofty but actually quite base ideals, and traditionalists will learn more about the strengths and weaknesses of the conservative liberalism from which they partially dissent.
*Mahoney, whom everyone agrees bears a remarkable resemblance to Patrick Cox of Tax Masters, is a Catholic gentleman, who may be seen to cross himself in class once or so a semester, and who is wont to lambaste unnamed, residual communist professors in certain departments at the College, for their anti-Christ obsessions and many other errors.

























































































