by John Marini
Professor Frost assumes that the “two tenable philosophic understandings” constitute a common ground that would enable a comparison of the two. However, Kojève’s theoretical view would be right only if an affirmation, or possible refutation of Hegelianism, is of necessity judged historically by contemporary intellectuals or theorists. Strauss, however brilliant he thought Kojève’s analysis was, would not agree that his (Strauss’s) own thought could be judged by any historical standards whatsoever. Moreover, Kojève agreed that Strauss would be right if something like human nature exists. Consequently, it appears that the debate itself was dependent upon a proper understanding of philosophy—that is, natural right (Socratic) or History (Hegel). Kojève denied philosophy, understood in terms of natural right. And Strauss denied History, understood in terms of the end of philosophy and its culmination into wisdom or knowledge. Indeed, Kojève himself admitted subsequently that he would have never understood philosophy (in its Socratic form) if he had not known Leo Strauss. Although he appears to have been charmed, nonetheless, he was not persuaded by Strauss.
On the other hand, Strauss would not agree that the coming into being of the universal homogeneous state could vindicate Kojève’s position, either in theory or practice. Strauss’s theoretical position cannot be understood historically, nor could it be judged by historicist standards. Likewise, his practical or political conclusions could not be dependent upon any actual historical current or force, however popular or powerful. Unlike Edmund Burke, Strauss did not think “that to oppose a thoroughly evil current in human affairs is perverse if that current is sufficiently powerful.” Strauss insisted that Burke
is oblivious of the nobility of last-ditch resistance. He does not consider that, in a way which no man can foresee, resistance in a forlorn position to the enemies of mankind, “going down with guns blazing and flags flying,” may contribute greatly toward keeping awake the recollection of the immense loss sustained by mankind, may inspire and strengthen the desire and the hope for its recovery, and may become a beacon for those who humbly carry on the works of humanity in a seemingly endless valley of darkness and destruction. He does not consider this because he is too certain that man can know whether a cause lost now is lost forever or that man can understand sufficiently the meaning of a providential dispensation as distinguished from the moral law.17
In his failure to oppose an historical force he knew to be evil, it was “only a short step from this thought of Burke to the supersession of the distinction between good and bad by the distinction between the progressive and the retrograde (reactionary), or between what is and what is not in harmony with the historical process” (emphasis and addition mine).18 If philosophy, or natural right, is possible, it cannot be evaluated in terms of the conditions established by any understanding of the rationality of History, or historicist thought.
Strauss noted that Kojève’s position depended upon the truth of the supposition that the universal and homogeneous state is the best social order. The universal homogeneous state presupposed the conquest of nature, as well as the end of work and fighting. But Strauss denied the assertion that the end state could be the best social order. “The simply best social order,” as Kojève conceived of it, Strauss noted, “is the state in which every human being finds his full satisfaction.” A human being is satisfied, “if his human dignity is universally recognized and if he enjoys equality of opportunity,’ i.e., the opportunity, corresponding to his capacities, of deserving well of the state or of the whole.”19 However, Strauss wondered if humans could be satisfied in such circumstances. Strauss noted that Kojève’s position depended upon the assumption that “there is no longer fight nor work. History has come to its end. There is nothing more to do.” In response, Strauss observed that the “end of History would be most exhilarating but for the fact that, according to Kojève, it is the participation in bloody political struggles as well as in real work or, generally expressed, the negating action, which raises man above the brutes. The state, through which man is said to become reasonably satisfied, is, then, the state in which the basis of man’s humanity withers away or, in which man loses his humanity.”20
Strauss was of the opinion that “perhaps it is not war nor work but thinking that constitutes the humanity of man. Perhaps it is not recognition (which for many men may lose in its power to satisfy what it gains in universality) but wisdom that is the end of man.” Strauss insisted that “if the final state is to satisfy the deepest longing of the human soul, every human being must be capable of becoming wise. The most relevant difference among human beings must have practically disappeared.”21 But Strauss asks: “if not all human beings become wise, then it follows that for almost all human beings the end state is identical with the loss of their humanity, … and they can therefore not be rationally satisfied with it.”22 Strauss was certain Kojève’s utopia would require the use of force, and a tyrant, to enforce the satisfaction that all supposedly desired. Strauss maintained that “the actual satisfaction of all human beings, which allegedly is the goal of History, is impossible. It is for this reason, I suppose, that the final social order, as Kojève conceives of it, is a State and not a stateless society: the State, or coercive government, cannot wither away because it is impossible that all human beings should ever become actually satisfied” (emphasis mine).23 The final state is and must be a tyranny.
Moreover, the “Universal and Final Tyrant” would not be wise. Strauss notes that
to retain his power, he will be forced to suppress every activity which might lead people into doubt of the essential soundness of the universal and homogeneous state: he must suppress philosophy as an attempt to corrupt the young. In particular he must in the interest of the homogeneity of his universal state forbid every teaching, every suggestion, that there are politically relevant natural differences among men which cannot be abolished or neutralized by progressing scientifically technology.24 (emphasis mine)
In short, the universal state would be a tyranny, which if successful, would result in the “end of philosophy on earth.” Strauss insisted that “from the Universal Tyrant however there is no escape. Thanks to the conquest of nature and to the completely unabashed substitution of suspicion and terror for law, the Universal and Final Tyrant has at his disposal practically unlimited means for ferreting out, and for extinguishing, the most modest efforts in the direction of thought.”25
Kojève confirmed Strauss’s doubt concerning the goodness, or even the possibility, of satisfying all in a manner compatible with man’s humanity. In a letter written to Strauss, Kojève described the actual character of “satisfaction” in the end state. Kojève noted:
the universal and homogeneous state is “good” only because it is the last (because neither war nor revolution are conceivable in it: mere “dissatisfaction” is not enough, it also takes weapons!) Besides, “not human” can mean “animal” (or better—automaton) as well as “God.” In the final state there naturally are no more “human beings” in our sense of an historical human being. The “healthy” automata are “satisfied” (sports, art, eroticism, etc.), and the “sick” ones get locked up. As for those who are not satisfied with their “purposeless activity” (art, etc.), they are the philosophers (who can attain wisdom if they “contemplate” enough). By doing so they become “gods.” The tyrant becomes an administrator, a cog in the “machine” fashioned by automata for automata.26 (Kojève’s emphasis)
However, Strauss was confident that Kojève had overestimated the tameness of man and from that he remained hopeful. Strauss suggests: “There will always be men (andres) who will revolt against a state which is destructive of humanity or in which there is no longer a possibility of noble action and of great deeds.”27 In his view, nature and politics cannot be easily expunged from the earth. The very real tyrannies of the twentieth century made it possible to understand the practical or political character of tyranny that was made intelligible theoretically by reviving Socratic rationalism, or political
thought in its original meaning. It also made it necessary to reestablish a theoretical perspective capable of relating politics to the reality of human experience. In establishing a nonhistoricist philosophy and a nonhistoricist account of history, a realistic understanding of politics had revealed the danger of tyranny in our time; the universal homogeneous state in the form of a universal tyrant. Strauss does not doubt that it is possible, and necessary, to inspirit man on behalf of noble action in defense of his own humanity. Moreover, even if it is not possible now, it may become possible in the future to revive the understanding of, and the aspiration for justice that would rekindle an awareness of the danger of tyranny by revealing its essential character. In doing so, we may, as Strauss suggested, “contribute greatly toward keeping awake the recollection of the immense loss sustained by mankind, [and] may inspire and strengthen the desire and hope for its recovery.”28
15
Trump and the Future of American Politics
AMERICAN PARTISANSHIP has come to be understood in terms of History, or progress, as establishing the moral ground of politics and society. The desire for change, the widespread expectation that change is itself a good, had animated politics throughout much of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. That understanding of the meaning of progress was realized and justified by the transformation of social life brought about by the benevolent use of science and its method in the service of social and political change. Humans everywhere have benefited from progress in science, technology, and medicine. But political science, as well as economics, has not yet established a universal, or objective, science that has delivered benefits that are universally recognized as a common good in the eyes of its citizens.
Nonetheless, Progressivism has created a partisanship on behalf of change as the ground of establishing the measure of a political good. Understood historically, those who view the future as a better guide than the past have embraced progress as the ground and goal of political and social well-being. Those who are doubtful of change, or who seek to preserve some past good, are thought to be Reactionaries. In terms of political partisanship, liberals are thought to be on the right side of History. Conservatives, wary of an unknown future good, are thought to be impediments to the progressive transformation of social life. They insist on clinging to an outmoded past. But both have become necessary to the political existence of the other. And there seems to be no political alternative to those two choices seemingly imposed by the demands of History itself.
In American politics, the election of 2008 established what appeared to be the high point of twenty-first-century Progressivism. But its very success produced a crisis of liberalism that threatened a Progressive legacy that had been established over much of the last century. Barack Obama won the most decisive presidential election of any Democrat since Lyndon Baines Johnson. His party gained control of both houses of Congress. His campaign slogan said it all: Hope and Change. Hope is established and animated by an awareness of an abstract and future good. And the purpose of government is to bring about social change on behalf of that vision. In his first term, Obama sought to achieve the dream of every Progressive president since Teddy Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson. In FDR’s memorable phrase, “necessitous men cannot be free,” the purpose of government is to establish universal security against natural necessity, relief from those very exigencies established by life itself. In short, an enlightened administration must establish the guarantees of universal security against those necessities that have made it impossible to be free outside of the confines of a rational, or administrative, state.
The election of Donald Trump changed the landscape of American politics. The 2016 election could be seen as a repudiation of those past progressive policies that had dominated both parties in domestic and foreign affairs since the end of the Cold War. Unlike the intellectuals, liberal and conservative, Trump did not appear to understand change or progress historically, in terms of a future good. Nor did he understand the past in terms of those quarrels between the intellectuals who disagreed practically over current policies, but agreed theoretically on the meaning of past and future—on history. Trump’s campaign slogan revealed much: Make America Great Again. In other words, he did not understand politics, or the past, from what had been the perspective of the intellectuals, liberal or conservative. In Trump’s view, America was great in the past, and that greatness could be restored.
In political practice, liberals and conservatives had established a kind of symbiotic relationship that made them appear as opposite sides of the same coin. The contemporary meaning of those terms had been derived from the theories and policies that had become embodied within the administrative state. There were disagreements over how certain domestic or foreign policies should be promulgated, or when they should take effect, or how much they should cost. However, there was little partisan disagreement as to whether those policies should have been pursued, or abandoned, because there was no political standard by which to judge results in terms of success or failure. Those decisions were put in the hands of experts, or bureaucrats, whose knowledge established their authority. But the outcome of the decisions based on that supposed knowledge, whether successful or not, remained unquestioned by those who had political power.
The authority of the intellectuals had established a theoretical, or socially constructed, reality that appeared indifferent to reality as it revealed itself in practical or political life. It seemed as though liberal and conservative intellectuals could disagree when it came to practical means, but they were in apparent agreement concerning technical ends. But it was the ends—the results or failures—that brought about the political turmoil that led to the questioning of their authority. Much of official Washington rested on the authority of the knowledge that had been invested in those technical administrative positions. And nearly all concerned had a stake in maintaining the status quo. It seemed that the whole of Washington, Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative, was opposed to Trump. Their interests as stakeholders within the administrative state required a defense of the Washington establishment.
At the same time, Trump, in his political appeals, had also challenged, and depreciated, the intellectual authority of the leaders of organized conservatism. In short, he succeeded in separating parts of the political constituencies of both parties from their organizational and ideological leadership. This caused a civil war between numerous conservative opinion leaders who opposed Trump and their many followers who embraced him. It is not surprising that the whole of the Washington intellectual establishment, liberal and conservative opinion leaders alike, have objected to the manner in which he has removed the political discourse from their hands and placed it directly in the hands of the electorate itself.
For the last twenty-five years or more, American elections have been framed not by political partisans on behalf of the people, but by professionals on behalf of the Washington establishment. As a result, it is not the varied constituencies of the national electorate but the spokesmen for the centralized organized interests in Washington—the economic, social, political, and intellectual elites—who have determined not only what was acceptable in terms of policy, but in terms of political debate as well.
That centralization of politics, economics, administration, and public opinion had empowered the Washington elites. But it had also impoverished the political and economic lives of those people with little access to Washington. Despite all the talk of diversity, genuine political diversity would require real power and genuine politics at the state and local levels of government. As it stands, only the organized interests, and the issue networks allied to them, were able to exercise real influence in the centralized administrative state that had been erected in Washington over the past half century. Genuine diversity would require reestablishing the ground of politics in the nation as a whole. It would necessitate reanimating the distinction between the social and the political, the public and the private, as essential to a revival of the inst
itutions of civil society. Political communities, established and represented within civil society institutions, would reflect the diverse economic, social, demographic, and geographic interests that are necessary to define the political authority of the people. Moreover, it would require a decentralization of political and rational authority that now resides in Washington, and a restoration of political and administrative authority in state and local governments.
Trump mobilized a political constituency by recognizing a political reality that was still visible to a large segment of the American people. It was a reality they experienced in their own lives in their own communities. But it was in opposition to the socially constructed public world, a self-proclaimed narrative established by, and on behalf of, the elites. That narrative, which they themselves have explicitly distinguished from factual reality, is a product of the intellectuals. It is authorized and legitimized by the political, social, economic, and media elites. It has dictated what constituted the morally defensible in the political and social world. Although Trump has mobilized the constituency that has propelled him to the forefront of American politics, it remains to be seen whether the political authority of the people can be restored.