MICHAEL BRIAND
Beyond Liberalism
Toward a Purpose-Guided Democracy
Michael Briand
Democracy in our country is not is good shape. Politics is tribalized, antagonistic, and unproductive. Why and how did we arrive at this state of affairs?
Ultimately, the explanation lies in our extreme individualism and our obsession with being free to do whatever we want to do, no matter the consequences—even for ourselves. Too few of us put aside our preoccupation with what we assume is good for us personally and ask instead, “What’s good for everyone—ourselves included?”
Put differently, the problem is that we refuse to let our political priorities, choices, and actions be guided by ethical thinking. Instead, we act as if the basic principle for conducting democratic political activity is the same as the basic principle for conducting transactions in an economic market: everyone should act in a manner that prioritizes his or her personal gain. Liberalism thus turns the political arena into a kind of market in which groups and individuals compete with each other to determine “who gets what, when, and how.” In politics, though, because we pursue our self-interest indirectly—by voting for representatives (who essentially sell their votes to organized interests in return for campaign contributions)—we end up doubly removed from responsibility for the adverse consequences that our choices have on our shared, public life.
Worse, we blithely assume that our repeated efforts to prevail in political disputes does nothing to undermine the legitimacy of the political institutions and practices upon which democracy depends. Even Adam Smith understood that the values of the market should never be permitted to invade and corrupt society the way they have ours, literally “de-moralizing” it to the point where “nothing is true and everything is permitted.” Because democracy is fundamentally a public practice of ethics, when we act politically in a manner that is unethical, we end up subverting democracy.
Questions about what is good and bad, right and wrong derive from the fundamental question of ethics: “How should we live?” Liberalism—the political ideology to which almost all of us, from social democrats to libertarians, subscribe—treats this question as one that people must be left to answer for themselves. To its credit, liberalism celebrates a plurality of ways to live. But it does nothing to encourage reflection on the desirability and acceptability of those approaches to living. Its highly individualistic, “laissez-faire” approach to ethics provides scant support for our efforts, as individuals and as a society, to reflect on and pursue a meaningful life.
Moreover, because it treats value (goodness) as a function of personal desire and treats freedom (especially in the guise of rights) as the panacea for all conflicts, but then tries to be neutral in the matter of what’s good and what isn’t, it offers no rational way of securing agreement concerning the ethical dilemmas underlying many of the political issues that divide us. This failure to provide standards for resolving conflicts disables and discourages us from deliberating together. As a result, power becomes the only political currency that matters, and liberalism ends up sending the message that we may use any means necessary to achieve our self-chosen ends.
Human beings require a persuasive and animating vision of human place and purpose in the great scheme of things. Liberalism does nothing to address this need. As Andrew Sullivan has remarked, despite the benefits, such as material prosperity, that liberalism has bestowed, it “has left a hunger for shared public conceptions about the purpose of life.” Constructing meaning and purpose requires an ongoing practice of public dialogue and deliberation that helps us ask and answer the question, “How should we live?”
Establishing and sustaining such a practice requires that we recognize and fix two foundational flaws in liberalism: the way we think about the individual in relation to society, and the way we try to justify our beliefs about what is good and bad, right and wrong. The first of these flaws is “atomism.” This is the idea that we are fundamentally separate and self-contained creatures. On this view, each individual person has his or her own unique personality, outlook, experiences, abilities, needs, desires, values, priorities, etc. Supposedly, therefore, except through ties of family and voluntarily chosen friends and associates, we are not connected to each other in any meaningful way. Communities and societies are mere abstractions. Hence all political arrangements must begin and end with the individual’s interests as their touchstone of justifiability. We must rediscover how badly atomism distorts the reality of human life. We are inherently social creatures. Everything we are and might become depends utterly on the nature and quality of our relationships with not only our families but also with the people in our neighborhoods, organizations, communities, and society.
The second flaw in liberalism is “subjectivism.” This is the idea that our needs, desires, and priorities are individually determined and must be accepted as “given.” In such matters, the individual’s judgment is sovereign, immune to challenge. On this view, because each person is unique, there is no ground for comparing his or her desires, needs, and aspirations to another person and rationally deciding that they should be assigned priority over the other person’s. Because, allegedly, there is no interpersonally-valid (“objective”) standard of good and bad, right and wrong, each person must be free to choose whatever goals and actions he or she wishes to pursue, irrespective of the consequences for the well-being of others. Freedom to do as one pleases thus becomes the ultimate value, and the only one people can agree on. As a result of this elevation of personal choice to a preeminent position among values, over time democracy (like duty and obligation) comes to be seen as an encroachment on individual freedom and a threat to the individual’s (self-defined) well-being.
Fixing these two defects in liberalism will require that we establish and sustain a public practice of ethical dialogue and deliberation. Our public discussions of divisive political issues must be ethical for three reasons: First, most such issues are rooted in one or more ethical dilemmas, i.e., tensions between two or more values or principles that offer conflicting answers to the questions of what is good (to do, to desire, to have, etc.) and what is right (to do, to desire, to have, etc.). Second, ethical dilemmas can be resolved only through an interpersonal communicative process that recognizes their existence and that enables us together to authoritatively reconcile the values or principles in conflict. Third, the ethical requirements of inclusivity and equality must be met if we want the political decision-making process to be democratically fair and to produce outcomes that are equitable or just.
In order to reach a judgment that is objective and/or factually true,[1] participating decision-makers must work through three levels, or stages, of ethical thinking. The first—the “rules” level, or stage—is where most political debate occurs. At this level (stage), we try to resolve political issues by invoking various ethical values and principles that seem relevant. In a pluralistic society like ours, however, that typically doesn’t result in a consensus. Most political debate proves inconclusive because the values and principles we invoke frequently conflict. Resolving the dilemma proves elusive because there is no higher-level value or principle to which we can appeal to decide which to assign priority.[2]
At the second level or stage, we set aside the question of what’s right (because it yields no definitive answer) and ask instead what’s best. Here, we explore options for resolving the conflict by translating all values and principles into the common currency of “goodness.” Specifically, the task is to determine which of the courses we might pursue will produce the best consequences in terms of the well-being of everyone. In other words, which response to the issue would have the greatest positive impact on everyone’s well-being?
The third stage or level is for arriving at a pragmatic resolution of the conflict. Here, we try to negotiate “a way forward we can all live with or go along with.” The idea is to help each other get enough of what we need at least to “move the issue to the back burner” while keeping lines of communication open and maintaining a good relationship with those with whom we disagree.
There is an additional requirement, however, that must be met for democratic dialogue and deliberation to be genuinely ethical. The most pressing problem facing us—as a nation, as a civilization, as a species—is “spiritual” in the sense that we need to live our lives to some substantial degree in the service of a cause greater than ourselves. It is a need we cannot meet adequately as disconnected social “atoms.” We can meet it only together. The question “How should we live?” can’t be answered without an idea of purpose. And without an idea of purpose, democracy can’t help us create and sustain the sense that we are part of some great enterprise or project that stands for something of true and enduring importance.
To build a practice of ethical, democratic dialogue and deliberation—and thereby to reverse the dispiriting effects of contemporary liberalism and its faulty conception of individualism—we need people who will live their lives in a way that amounts to “ethical heroism.” We need people who will commit themselves to helping resolve ethical issues by participating in dialogue and deliberation, and who when not actively engaged in it will think about ethical issues as if they were so engaged. Ethical thinking involves trying to understand and appreciate the impact that different actions will have on others, and then weighing and trying to balance what’s best for us with what’s best for others, so that the result is what’s best for everyone concerned. In its simplest formulation, ethical heroism is taking seriously the Golden Rule and resolutely allowing it to determine what we do, even when our compatriots are rejecting it and instead are pursuing their self-interests without regard for the well-being of others.
Notes:
1. A statement that expresses an ethical judgment can be both objective and factually true. (1) A statement like “Telling the truth is the right thing to do” or “It’s wrong to drive while intoxicated” is objective if (first) it’s justified from the point of view of everyone affected by the way the issue is resolved, and (second) if it’s justifiable from the point of view of “anyone” who hasn’t actually participated in creating the rule, provided that (third) participants have thought about the issue and the options for resolving it in the conditions that are optimal for making a sound choice. There are about half a dozen of these conditions, but the crucial one to understand is the requirement that each participant “adopt the ethical point of view.” Participants in ethical dialogue adopt the ethical point of view by working toward “mutual comprehension”—a thorough understanding and appreciation of each other’s needs, values, priorities, experiences, and so forth.
The requirement that participants in ethical dialogue adopt the ethical point of view entails that ethical thinking is an inherently collective (“polylogical”) process. That is, it’s an activity that requires the inclusion of multiple perspectives. Only an inclusive community of decision-makers can produce objective judgments—that is, judgments that are independent of any given individual or group’s partial, limited perspective. We can’t reach objective judgments as individuals because we’re like the blind men in the fable about the elephant. None of us sees all of reality. No one knows the full truth. We can know what’s (objectively) good and right—but we can know it only by integrating our individual, partial perspectives with those of others through the objective medium of language, which itself is something we can create only collectively.
2. An evaluative statement can be not only objective; it can also be factually true. For example: “It’s not good for children to play with matches.” That’s an evaluative statement. Why isn’t it good for children to play with matches? Because it might start a fire. They might get burned. Burns cause pain—pain’s not good—and burns can create the possibility of infection, which is hazardous to their health. Is it just my opinion, or yours, that it’s not good for children to play with matches? Similarly, somebody might claim, “It’s good for the health of a human being to eat a healthy diet that includes vegetables.” Is that factually true? If we consider all the relevant evidence; if we assess that evidence and rely only on findings that valid and reliable; if we consult experts and authorities on diet and health; if we take everybody’s perspective into account; if we reason carefully among ourselves about what we can justifiably infer from our analysis of the evidence—and so on and so on—it’s perfectly reasonable to say “It’s a fact that eating a healthy diet that includes vegetables is good for the health of a human being.” In other words, it’s good for anyone to follow such a diet. And because it’s factually true that eating a healthy diet that includes vegetables is good for the health of any human being, we can go straight to the conclusion that any human being should follow such a diet. [For proof, see Mortimer Adler.] Of course, we have to add the qualifier, “prima facie, on-balance, and all things considered” because it’s possible in a particular set of circumstances that maybe it isn’t good for someone to follow such a diet. If you have Crohn’s Disease, or Ulcerative Colitis, or Irritable Bowel Syndrome, or you’ve just had intestinal surgery, then for you, in your circumstances, at that time, it’s not good and you shouldn’t eat them. That’s why I it’s good for “anyone.” (“Anyone” means we presume everyone, but that presumption can be set aside in particular cases.)
The point is, it’s a factual question whether something is good because the answer is in principle discoverable. The answer might not be immediately obvious, and it might take a lot of effort to confirm, but the basic form of the question and the procedure for answering it are essentially the same as they are in the sciences.
The reason it’s a factual question whether something’s good is because it’s a factual question what human beings need. If we think a while about why we have the word “good” in our language, it’s because we want to be able to identify, evaluate, approve, and recommend things that help meet our needs. “Good” doesn’t mean “that which meets our needs.” Rather, good is what in fact meets our needs. The work that’s been done on human needs and human flourishing since Abraham Maslow in the 1960s makes it clear that it’s good—it’s valuable--for human beings to be able to meet their needs, and the more basic the need the more good is generated by fulfilling it. It’s an empirical question whether a condition, action, activity, etc. actually contributes to fulfilling a need. It’s not just anyone’s opinion. And this is enough to let us at least begin talking with each other in a more constructive, productive fashion about what’s good for people.
As for whose needs and which needs should be fulfilled in what order of priority, that’s something to be worked out through dialogue and deliberation. A lot of evaluative issues, including ethical ones, are difficult to resolve in practice. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be resolved in principle. We give up too easily on them because we’ve bought into the subjectivist notion that “good” is always a matter of personal opinion, the way the best flavor of ice cream is my personal opinion. The key is for participants in ethical dialogue to adopt the ethical point of view.