The more one considers the matter, the clearer it becomes that redistribution is in effect far less a redistribution of free income from the richer to the poorer, as we imagined, than a redistribution of power from the individual to the State.
In the disaster for humanity that was the 20th
Century, dominated by the murderous dreams of collectivist ideologies
and the unrestrained lust for power and the knife, those who loved
liberty, be they conservative, libertarian, or “classical liberal,”
recognized their common cause: opposition to ever-expanding state power.
T.S. Eliot, Christopher Dawson, and Russell Kirk sought to redeem the
time through recovery of our understanding of the spiritual bases of
culture, and the cultural bases of ordered liberty. They were joined, in
the economic sphere, by the likes of Wilhelm Roepke, but also by more
secularist, market-centric thinkers like F.A. Hayek, who warned of the
false appeal and disastrous consequences of following the Road to
Serfdom. Yet, this sometimes uneasy partnership of defenders of cultural
renewal and economic liberty included figures who sought to bridge the
gap between cultural and economic thought. Such a one was Bertrand de
Jouvenel, a conservative political thinker of great importance, whose
writings from the middle to the second half of the 20th century deserve a wider audience than they receive.
In important works of political thought, including Sovereignty, On Power, and The Pure Theory of Politics,
and also in works and essays dealing with economics and questions of
how best to approach problems of public policy, Jouvenel made clear the
tendency of the modern state to swallow the rest of society, and the
individual with it. Ironically, Jouvenel observed, what made the state
so dangerous in modern times was precisely what to most people gave to
it its legitimacy: democracy. To many, this recognition of the dark
side of democracy rendered Jouvenel’s thought suspect, at best. But his
point was not that rule by consent is intrinsically wrong or unjust.
Rather, it was that we should recognize the proper limits even of the
people to act according to their will, and that such recognition is all
the more important in democratic times. From recognition of the
importance of the consent of the governed, modern democracy moved to the
assumption that governments are legitimate to the extent that they
serve the unmediated will of the majority led. Relatively early on, this
overemphasis on the normative status of The People (too often little
more than an abstraction) led to the common assumption that whatever a
democratically elected government did was, by definition, right and
just. One need only consider the French Revolutionary Reign of Terror
and its claim to act for the people to see the wisdom of Jouvenel’s
warning.
In a collection of lectures published as The Ethics of Redistribution, Jouvenel
showed how false belief in the power of the majority to achieve a just,
fair, and (especially) equal society could succeed only in feeding the
Minotaur—that monstrous combination of man and beast that the modern
state had become. Thinking, wrongly, that the rich had kept for
themselves sufficient wealth to satisfy the needs of all, the people for
generations have voted for governmental policies aimed at
“redistributing” that wealth so as to meet the needs of the poor.
Unfortunately, Jouvenel points out, even if one were able to confiscate
all the rich had in their possession, the sum would not come close to
meeting the needs of even the poorest. Thus, Jouvenel argued, the wealth
“transfer” had not been, and could not be, from the rich to the poor,
but rather from most of society to the state. Various programs aimed, in
theory, at enriching the lives of the poor would be funded from a
general tax, taking money from most people so that the government might
spend it on those it deemed worthy or in need. From attempting to
provide subsistence to the hungry and the cold, the state quickly moved
on to funding various ideological projects, including wasteful forms of
subsidized insurance and educational programs and artistic endeavors of
highly questionable value, as it built an expensive administrative
apparatus to determine how much to give to whom. In this manner the
state became increasingly powerful and independent of any check or
oversight, even as it maintained the guise and the rhetoric of a mere
servant of the people.
Jouvenel’s powerful analysis should, and
in his time did, appeal to conservative, libertarian and classical
liberal defenders of ordered liberty, facing the onslaught of the
leviathan state. But Jouvenel’s analysis was distinctive. Perhaps most
important, he followed the French philosopher and statesman Alexis de
Tocqueville in seeing the main danger of the state in its hostility
toward the more fundamental associations of family, church, and local
community. In the name of individual liberty, the state increasingly
takes unto itself the power to control and destroy all associations
outside itself. In examining this process, Jouvenel asked, in On Power:
Where will it all end? In the destruction of all other command for the benefit of one alone—that of the state. In each man’s absolute freedom from every family and social authority, a freedom the price of which is complete submission to the state. In the complete equality as between themselves of all citizens, paid for by their equal abasement before the power of their absolute master—the state. In the disappearance of every constraint which does not emanate from the state, and in the denial of every pre-eminence which is not approved by the state. In a word, it ends in the atomization of society, and in the rupture of every private tie linking man and man, whose only bond is now their common bondage to the state. The extremes of individualism and socialism meet: that was their predestined course.
The greatest danger in democratic times,
Jouvenel (like Tocqueville) saw, was the emptying out of society of all
the institutions and communities in which people actually live. The
resulting landscape of atomized individuals and the state, the mode of
society propounded by too many who claim to seek the protection of
individual “rights,” would spell the end of liberty, and of any decent
social order. Too often overlooked by many libertarians, the
“makeweights” of social institutions (including, of course, the church)
were necessary for both human flourishing itself and for the cabining of
political power within the bounds necessary for any decent society.
It is this insight, and the emphasis he
placed upon it, which makes Jouvenel an important proponent of
conservative principles and of a conservative form of political
analysis. Jouvenel was no libertarian. He refused to see the state as
only an enemy to liberty, or even as a necessary evil. Indeed, one might
argue that, coming out of a French tradition that, particularly in his
own time, valued state intervention and national uniformity entirely too
highly, he was too likely to emphasize the need to limit the means of state intervention (use of voluntary incentives) without paying sufficient attention to the intrinsic dangers of any
ethic of intervention. Despite this, and despite the labels “classical
liberal” and “conservative liberal” (labels also often attached to
Tocqueville) Jouvenel’s appreciation for, and determination to protect,
the intermediary associations of civil, social life, render his work
important for all who seek to understand the predicaments and
possibilities of contemporary cultural, political, and social life, but
especially for those who would seek to enrich the conservative mind.
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