The Problem With Liberalism
J. Budziszewski
Copyright
(c) 1996 First Things 61 (March 1996): 20-26.
Believers in the congregation of my youth took for
granted that Christianity and liberal politics were opposed.
The Bible seemed to back them up; of Lyndon Johnson's two
great wars, for instance, they viewed the first, the war in
Vietnam, with enthusiasm because America was a "City upon a
Hill," while viewing the other, the war on poverty, with
indifference because "the poor will always be with us." An
antiwar socialist, I rebelled, eventually leaving the faith
completely. When in middle adulthood I returned, I found
myself in a congregation of a different kind. Here, to my
surprise, the believers took for granted that Christianity and
liberal politics were brothers. Again Scripture was gleaned
for support. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me"-obvious
backing for the welfare state. "There is neither male nor
female, for ye are all one in Christ Jesus"-a manifesto for
feminism. "God is love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth
in God, and God in him"-homosexual activists asked for no
more. As a teen-ager I had hurled some of the same verses
against my elders. God had devised a cunning penance.
Of course, both sides were tearing passages out of context
and reading into them things that are not there. The City upon
a Hill is the Body of Christ, not the United States of
America. If the poor will always be with us, then we will
always have to care for them. I am expected to look after the
least of Christ's brethren myself, not to have the government
send them checks. The apostle who said that in Him there is no
male or female also said that in the family their roles are
different. And the apostle who said that God is love also
claimed for God the authority to define that love.
Unfortunately, knowing these things does not answer the
ideological question. Should Christians be political liberals?
Or even, to put the query the other way around, Can they be?
In one way, both forms of the question are wrong- headed.
According to the letter to the Philippians, our commonwealth
is in Heaven, not on earth. In the same vein, the Great
Commission shows that the mission of the Church to the world
is to preach the gospel, not to underwrite any worldly regime
or ideology. Therefore the primary identity of the Christian
is in Christ-it cannot be in liberalism, any more than it can
be in conservatism, communism, or communitarianism.
But to stop at this truth would be evasive. Although the
faith does not mandate any worldly regime or generate any
worldly ideology, it does stand in judgment upon worldly
regimes and ideologies. Moreover, Scripture makes clear that
so long as human institutions do not defy God's commandments,
we are to submit to them. Under a monarchy, submission might
mean nothing more than obedience. In a republic, however,
submission includes participation, so we have no alternative
but to take positions on political questions. Willy-nilly,
this involves us in responding to the worldly philosophies by
which other people settle such questions.
The result? Even though I am not a duck, I will sometimes
seem to quack like a duck. I cannot be a liberal and I cannot
even be in strategic alliance with liberals, but I may from
time to time find myself in tactical alliance with them-just
as with conservatives-defending the cause of particular laws,
precepts, or policies that they too approve, but for reasons
of their own. To keep my head, I had better be clear about
what those reasons are and how they differ from mine. So
although we cannot ask whether Christians can or should be
political liberals, we can and should ask what Christians are
to think of liberalism.
At the threshold of the question we run into another
problem. The term "political liberalism" can mean several
things. In which sense are we using it here? Its principal
meanings are threefold. Broadly, it means constitutional
government with a representative legislature and generous
liberties. In political economy, it means a competitive,
self-regulating market with minimal government interference.
Colloquially, it means the contemporary variety of
government-driven social reformism. The first sense makes both
Senator Kennedy and Speaker Gingrich liberals. The second
makes the Speaker a liberal, but not the Senator. The third
makes the Senator a liberal, but not the Speaker. For present
purposes I use the term in the third.
My thesis is that, even as worldly philosophies go,
political liberalism is deeply flawed. We may best describe it
as a bundle of acute moral errors, with political consequences
that grow more and more alarming as these errors are taken
closer and closer to their logical conclusions. I am not
speaking of such errors as celebrating sodomy and abortion-for
these are merely symptoms-but of their causes. Nor am I
speaking of all their causes-for this would require reading
hearts-but of their intellectual causes. I am not even
speaking of all their intellectual causes-for these are too
numerous-but of the most obvious. No claim is here made that
every political liberal commits all the moral errors all the
time. Nor do I claim that all the moral errors are logically
compatible, so they even could all be committed all the time.
Certain moral errors support certain others, but others are at
odds, so they must be committed selectively. One must not
expect logical coherence in moral confusion.
The political implications of the faith are more negative
than positive, so rejecting liberalism does not mean accepting
conservatism. In the first place, under the influence of a
liberal culture conservatives often fall for liberal moral
errors too. In the second place, like every worldly ideology
conservatism commits heresies of its own. But we can study
conservatism another time.
The first moral error of political liberalism is
propitiationism. According to this notion I should do unto
others as they want; according to Christianity I should do
unto others as they need. Numerous mental habits contribute to
the propitiationist frame of mind. Most of my college
students, for instance, think "need" and "want" are just
synonyms. Many also construe the Jeffersonian right to pursue
happiness as a right to be made happy by the government.
Propitiationism corresponds to a style of politics in which
innumerable factions, both organized and unorganized, compete
to become government clientele, fighting not only for shares
of the public purse (such as grants and loan guarantees) but
also for governmental preferences (such as trade barriers and
racial quotas) and for official marks of esteem (such as
multiculturalist curricula and recognition of homosexual
unions). Of course, in a representative system every
government functionary, whether liberal or not, finds it
difficult to resist group pressures. Propitiationism, however,
reinforces the habit of giving in by making capitulation a
moral duty.
Christians can slip into propitiationism by
misunderstanding the Golden Rule. This happens when we read Do
unto others as you would have them do unto you as though it
implied Do unto others as they would have you do unto
them-"I'd want others to honor my demands, so I should honor
theirs." The mistake lies in overlooking the fact that the
"you" to whom the precept is addressed is a free subject of
the kingdom of heaven, not a stranger. We are therefore
speaking of what in Christ we would have others do unto us-to
minister to our godly needs, not to our foolish or sinful
wants. Unto others we should minister in the same way. It
follows that keeping the Golden Rule may even mean saying "No"
or suggesting a better way. Jesus instructs us to feed the
poor, and so we should; but Paul says to the church at
Thessalonica, "For even when we were with you, this we
commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he
eat."
To be sure, it is easier to see the need to say "No" to a
greedy industrialist who wants the government to protect him
from honest competition than to a teen mother who wants to
marry the government instead of a man. Both want what is bad
for them, yet he is likely to get much more of what he wants
but doesn't need than she is. The sloppy sort of
compassionator is tempted to say, "If he gets what isn't good
for him, then it's only fair that she should get what isn't
good for her." But to give it to her might be to take her sole
beatitude away. Find another way to help her. Blessed are
those who cannot pay the entry fee to Hell.
The second moral error of political liberalism is
expropriationism. According to this notion I may take from
others to help the needy, giving nothing of my own; according
to Christianity I should give of my own to help the needy,
taking from no one. We might call expropriationism the Robin
Hood fallacy. Today, the expropriationist is usually a
propitiationist too, confusing the needy with some subset of
the merely wanty. So we are speaking of a style of politics in
which the groups in power decide for us which of their causes
our wealth is to support, taking that wealth by force.
Many Christians seem to miss the point, thinking that
expropriation is wrong just because the wrong groups are in
power, choosing the wrong causes for subsidy. This is where
the horror stories are offered, and horrible they are: of
subsidies to promote abortion, subsidies to photograph
crucifixes in jars of urine, subsidies for all sorts of
wickedness and blasphemy. But expropriation would be wrong
even if each of its causes were good. Consider the following
progression.
- On a dark street, a man draws a knife and demands my
money for drugs.
- Instead of demanding my money for drugs, he demands it
for the Church.
- Instead of being alone, he is with a bishop of the
Church who acts as bagman.
- Instead of drawing a knife, he produces a policeman who
says I must do as he says.
- Instead of meeting me on the street, he mails me his
demand as an official agent of the government.
If the first is theft, it is difficult to see why the other
four are not also theft. Expropriation is wrong not because
its causes are wrong, but because it is a violation of the
Eighth Commandment: Thou shalt not steal.
But how, one may ask, can government steal? We live in a
republic; aren't we therefore just taking from ourselves? No,
not even in a republic are the rulers identical with the
ruled, nor for that matter are the ruled identical with each
other; if we were just taking from ourselves, there would be
no need for the taking to be enforced. Then is it wrong for
government to tax at all? No, government may certainly collect
taxes for the support of its proper work; that work, however,
is not the support of all good causes, but merely punishing
wrongdoers and commending rightdoers. So Peter teaches in his
first letter (2:13- 14).
If government were to end its subsidy of good causes,
wouldn't these good causes suffer? Not necessarily; they might
even thrive. Marvin Olasky has shown in The Tragedy of
American Compassion that government subsidy itself can make
good causes suffer, for in taking money by force one weakens
both the means and the motive for people to give freely. Not
only that, government usually distorts good causes in the act
of taking them over. But what if the causes did depend on the
proceeds of theft? Should we do evil, that good may come? When
some people accused Paul of teaching this doctrine, he called
the charge a slander. There is no such thing as a tame sin
that will do only what we want it to, going quietly back into
its bottle when we have finished with it. Sin is no more like
that than God is. In politics, no less than in private life,
it ramifies.
The third moral error of political liberalism is solipsism.
According to this notion human beings make themselves, belong
to themselves, and have value in and of themselves; according
to Christianity they are made by God, belong to Him, and have
value because they are loved by Him and made in His image.
"Your eyes shall be opened," said the serpent, "and ye shall
be as gods." Solipsism holds that we already are.
Political liberalism was not always solipsistic, but the
change has hardly been noticed. John Locke in 1688 and
Immanuel Kant in 1797 both held that we are not to use others
merely as means to our ends. And yet though one can read in
many books that they were saying the same thing, Locke gives
as his reason that we are here to serve God's ends, while Kant
gives as his that each of us is an end himself. Locke
therefore roots our dignity in God, while Kant makes us out to
be gods ourselves. The two thinkers turn out to be as far
apart as two thinkers can be.
Some might say the difference makes no difference; after
all, Kant did reach the same conclusion as Locke, did he not?
Say rather that he purported to. As we might have guessed from
social conditions among the pagan deities, that is not the end
of the story. Olympus was a world of irresistible forces and
immovable objects. The gods deserved everything, but owed
nothing. While expecting divine honors, they did whatever they
could get away with. Solipsism produces the same result. Not
everyone can have unconditional value, so beneath the high
public language of equal concern and respect some become more
equal than others. Because mothers are not to be means to
their babies' survival, their babies become means to their
mothers' control over their pregnancies. Because speakers are
not to be means to their listeners' purity, their listeners
become means to the speakers' pleasure in filth. Because
patients are not to be means to the quiet of their doctors'
consciences, their doctors become means to their patients'
desire to die.
As surely as cider makes vinegar, solipsism made this evil.
It would have done so even if it were true that being ends in
ourselves keeps us from viewing others as means to ourselves.
The mere idea of Not Using Others cannot produce a moral code,
for only by the light of a moral code can we tell what counts
as using others.
Christianity does not suffer from this vicious circle. Our
faith takes its code from the one Who alone possesses
unconditional value, yet Who sacrificed Himself that we may
live, commanding that we love one another, not according to
our own ideas, but as He has loved us.
The fourth moral error of political liberalism is
absolutionism. According to this notion we cannot be blamed
when we violate the moral law, either because we cannot help
it, because we have no choice, or because it is our choice;
according to Christianity we must be blamed, because we are
morally responsible beings. Of course absolutionism cannot be
practiced consistently, nor would it be so convenient to its
practitioners if it could.
For example, a father may be absolved of child abuse
because he was abused as a child himself; because of the
abuse, however, the child may be absolved of murdering his
father, and in this case the father is not absolved. A
sodomist and a bully both may be absolved because of
predisposing factors in their family or genes, but if the
bully beats the sodomist, then the sodomist is absolved but
not the bully. A woman may be absolved of leaving her husband
because she feels trapped in the marriage, but a man is not
absolved of leaving his wife for the same reason, because that
would be sexist. A young man may be absolved of smashing a
brick into a person's head in the excitement of a riot, but
not of doing so in the excitement of a gang war: unless the
motive is political, in which case he is absolved if he is a
Freedom Fighter, but not if he is a Terrorist. Finally, in a
reversal of vicarious atonement, the critics of absolutionism
are blamed for the sins of those whom they refuse to absolve.
Nowhere does Scripture say that to know all is to forgive
all. Rather it says that on the Day of Wrath, everything
secret will be known and everything in darkness will come to
light. Nevertheless, Christians get pulled into absolutionism
by all sorts of ropes. Ours is a God of mercy. Yes, but He is
also a God of judgment. These two qualities are united by the
atoning sacrifice of Christ, of which we cannot avail
ourselves unless we repent. Christ has commanded us not to
judge. Yes, but we are not commanded not to judge acts; we are
only commanded not to judge souls. We know which acts are
wrong because He has told us; we don't know which souls will
repent because He hasn't. God loves everyone. Yes, and that is
why He wants to save us from our sins. We are not saved by
good deeds, but we are certainly saved for them. God does not
overlook our wrongdoing; He forgives it when we turn in faith
to Christ.
In the final analysis, absolutionism is cruel, not
compassionate; harsh, not lenient; malicious, not magnanimous.
It speaks of mercy, but shuts out God's grace by teaching that
we have no need for it. It speaks of forbearing from judgment,
but its main use is to demonize class enemies. It speaks of
love, but justifies evil. God forgive us for thinking there is
nothing to forgive.
The fifth moral error of political liberalism is
perfectionism. According to this notion human effort is
adequate to cure human evil; according to Christianity our
sin, like our guilt, can be erased only by the grace of God
through faith in Christ. Perfectionists also think the cure
can be completed in human time. Some even believe it can be
arranged for whole societies at once. By contrast, the faith
teaches that God must start over with each person, and that
although guilt is erased immediately, the cure of sin is not
complete until the next life.
Perfectionism is rich in consequences. The war to end all
wars that ushered in a century of wars, the war on poverty
that spent trillions of dollars but left poverty untouched,
the war on unhappiness that enriched assorted gurus while
rates of suicide soared, these are but its nuts and berries.
According to the faith, its final fruit is unending darkness.
Yet though emptied of Hope, perfectionism is full of hopes.
"Man is at last becoming aware that he alone is responsible
for the realization of the world of his dreams, that he has
within himself the power for its achievement." "Humans are
responsible for what we are or will become. No deity will save
us; we must save ourselves." "Man sets himself only such
problems as he is able to solve." Statements like these were
once considered extreme; the first and second are from the
Humanist Manifestos, the third from Karl Marx. Yet today such
sentiments are the boilerplate of liberal speechmaking. "No
eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what we
can build," the current President has prophesied, misquoting
Paul and Isaiah.
Christians bear some responsibility for the advent of
perfectionism. For instance, today's believer does not often
hear that Love is a disposition of will toward good, Faith a
disposition of reason toward revealed truth, and Hope a
disposition of longing toward Heaven. Once he has followed
nonbelievers in using the first word for an emotion and the
second for something inimical to reason, there is nothing much
to stop him from using the third for complacency about the
course of this present, broken world.
Other slidepaths to perfectionism are just as well
traveled. Some people even think Jesus was a perfectionist;
did He not urge us to be perfect, as our Father in Heaven is
perfect? But the Greek word translated "perfect," teleioi,
means merely "complete," meaning that we are not to stop at
half measures but grow up to full maturity. Thus John, who
ought to have known what the Master meant, wrote in his first
letter that if any man says he has no sin, he deceives
himself, and the truth is not in him. Nor is perfectionism to
be found in biblical prophecy. True, some Christians distort
the prophecy of the millennium-the thousand-year reign of the
martyrs with Christ-into the idea that worldly suffering will
diminish and finally disappear through human social reform.
But the text of the Revelation says nothing of such things.
One sometimes hears that perfectionism is a prerequisite
for pity-as though one offers a cup of cold water to a thirsty
child only because he foresees an ultimate victory in the War
on Thirst. On the contrary, one takes pity for the love of
souls, not for the love of abstractions; moreover, one takes
it because these souls are suffering, not because he expects
suffering to end. Perfectionism is more likely to annihilate
pity than to heighten it. All for the sake of paradise, the
tyrants of our generation stacked bodies higher than Nimrod
stacked bricks; yet they came no nearer heaven than he did.
The sixth moral error of political liberalism is
universalism. According to this notion the human race forms a
harmony whose divisions are ultimately either unreal or
unimportant; according to Christianity human harmony has been
shattered by sin and cannot be fully healed by any means short
of conversion.
The argument that human divisions are unreal is usually
some form of pantheism. According to the Eastern way of
putting it, all is in God-the obvious consequence of which is
that God includes evil. For instance, the psychiatrist Carl
Jung taught that Christians are mistaken in worshiping God as
Trinity. Instead they ought to worship Him as "Quaternity,"
the fourth Person of Godhood being Satan-a dog in the manger
if ever there was one. For this some praise Jung as more
"spiritual" than Freud. Most Westerners, though, prefer a
formula that suppresses such unsettling conclusions: not "all
is in God," but "God is in all." Thus George Fox taught that
the "light of Christ" resides within each person already. By
making such divisive steps as conversion unnecessary, this
would seem to hold out hopes of bringing people together;
actually it makes the origin and persistence of our divisions
wholly mysterious.
The argument that human divisions are unimportant is
usually some form of myopia. In one version, everyone is just
like me-my class, my set, my outlook. We may all seem to want
different things, but deep down we all really want the same
thing and seek the same God. This is the stuff of beauty
pageants and Robert Fulghum books. In another version, we are
all different, but that is all right because it takes all
sorts. Each ingredient adds its flavor to the salad. We are
the world. This is the stuff of rock telethons and
multicultural curricula.
Such delusions are almost cruelly easy to explode. Did the
Nazis want the same as their victims? Did they seek the same
God? Did it take both sorts to make a world? Our wants are
different-wealth, redemption, power, death, revenge. Our Gods
are different-Yahweh, Allah, Krishna, Kali, Volk. Even our
sins are different-lewdness, envy, pride, resentment, sloth.
God has placed in all hearts a longing for Himself, but not
every way in which we try to satisfy this longing is a search
for God. A diversity of gifts has been strewn among the
children of men, but not every vice or twist of the children
of men is a gift. In Christ there is no slave or free, no
Greek or Jew; but there are slave and free, and there are
Greek and Jew.
In our time, the universalist fallacy has even given rise
to a new type of professional, the "facilitator," whose bag of
tricks for uncovering supposed latent unity is more and more
familiar. Some of these, like active listening and decision by
consensus, can be useful at times. Others, like unconditional
inclusiveness, spell disaster if taken literally. What happens
when they are imposed where a basis for unity is presumed that
does not in fact exist? Various things; for instance the
parties may stall, fly apart, or reach conspicuous agreement
about points that are not at issue. At least these outcomes
are straightforward. But just as often the technology of
reconciliation becomes a technology of domination, more subtle
than most, whose adepts simply bamboozle those who cannot talk
the talk.
The seventh moral error of political liberalism is
neutralism. According to this notion the virtue of tolerance
requires suspending judgments about good and evil; according
to Christianity it requires making judgments about good and
evil. We can break neutralism into three components. According
to the Quantitative Fallacy, the meaning of tolerance is
tolerating; therefore, the more you tolerate, the more
tolerant you are. According to the Skeptical Fallacy, the best
foundation for tolerance is to avoid having strong convictions
about good and evil; therefore, the more you doubt, the more
tolerant you are. According to the Apologetic Fallacy, if you
can't help having strong convictions the next best foundation
for tolerance is refusing to express or act upon them;
therefore, the more pusillanimous you are, the more tolerant
you are.
Closely examined, each fallacy explodes itself. If you
really believe that the meaning of tolerance is tolerating,
then you ought to tolerate even intolerance. If you really
believe that the best foundation for tolerance is to avoid
having any strong convictions at all about right and wrong,
then you shouldn't have a strong conviction that intolerance
is wrong. If you really believe that when you do have strong
convictions you should refuse to express or act upon them,
then your tolerance should be a dead letter; it should be one
of the things you are pusillanimous about.
But if consistent neutralism is self-refuting, then why is
it so persistent? How is it possible for it to live on in our
newspapers, on the television, in the schoolroom, and even in
the pulpit? There are two main reasons for its vigor. The
first reason is that it is never practiced consistently.
Rather it is used selectively as a weapon for demoralizing
Christians and other opponents. For the neutralist too has
strong convictions; it's just that his convictions aren't the
ones he says one shouldn't act upon. Consistent neutralism
would hold that if it is intolerant to express the conviction
that unborn babies should not be torn from the womb, then it
is also intolerant to express the conviction that they may be
torn from the womb. By contrast, selective neutralism
remembers itself only long enough to condemn the defenders of
life.
The second reason for the vigor of neutralism is that it
encourages the illusion that we can escape from moral
responsibility for our beliefs and decisions. "I am innocent
of this man's blood; it is your responsibility"-in these words
Pilate implied that one can authorize a wrong without taking
sides. "I am neither for nor against abortion; I'm for
choice"-this statement is based on the same view of
responsibility as Pilate's. Indeed in trying to evade our
choices we set ourselves not only against the laws of
conscience but also against the laws of logic, for between two
meaningful propositions X and not-X there is no middle ground;
if one is true, the other is false. Even the pagans knew that.
What then is the truth about tolerance? The meaning of this
virtue is not tolerating per se, but tolerating what ought to
be tolerated. Practicing it means putting up with just those
bad things that, for the sake of some greater good, we ought
to put up with. We aren't practicing the virtue when we fail
to put up with bad things that we ought to put up with, such
as the expression of false opinions in debate; nor are we
practicing it when we do put up with bad things that we ought
not to put up with, such as rape. But making such distinctions
requires knowing the truth about goods, bads, and greater
goods. There is nothing neutral about that. It requires that
we avoid not strong convictions, but false convictions; it
requires not refusing to act, but acting. As Abraham Kuyper,
J. B. Phillips, and C. S. Lewis have said in nearly identical
words, "There is no neutral ground in the universe. Every
square inch is claimed by God and counterclaimed by Satan."
The eighth moral error of political liberalism is
collectivism. According to this notion the state is more
important to the child than the family; according to
Christianity the family is more important to the child than
the state. To be sure, collectivists do not usually put their
point so bluntly. A good example of hypocrisy and
circumlocution is found in a court case from 1980.
In that year, the Supreme Court of the state of Washington
ruled that lower courts had been right in granting
fifteen-year-old Sheila Sumey's request to be taken from the
Sumey home and placed in another that was more to her liking.
The Sumeys were not unfit, and Sheila had not been mistreated;
these points were not even at issue. Under the 1977 statute,
all Sheila had to do was say that she was in "conflict" with
her parents, and go on saying it after state-imposed
counseling had run its course. Her "conflict" was that she
disagreed with her parents' rules that she stay away from
drugs and dealers, abstain from sex and alcohol, and be home
every night at a reasonable hour. Mr. and Mrs. Sumey called
the statute unconstitutional. The court, however, defended it
as a "means for providing social services to the family and
nurturing the parent-child bond." The intrusion on parental
rights was "minor," it declared, because Sheila would have to
petition every six months if she wanted to stay away from her
parents for the rest of her minority. Although "the family
structure is a fundamental institution" and "parental
prerogatives are entitled to considerable legal deference,"
these prerogatives must yield to "fundamental rights of the
child or important interests of the State."
Before collectivism, our family law was based on a
philosophy that ran something like this. Growing up takes
time, and until the process reaches its end children are not
fully capable of deciding what is best for them. Moreover, the
family is a more fundamental institution than the state, based
on a closer harmony of interests among its members. From these
premises we may conclude that in normal families, during the
period while children are growing up, their parents may be
trusted to act in their best interests. It follows that the
state should not intervene except on evidence that the parents
are acting abusively. In other words it should confine itself
to the restraint of wickedness rather than trying to absorb
the functions of the family.
The regnant political class is increasingly unhappy with
this approach to growing up. Implicit in the position of the
Washington court is the thought that of the two human
institutions, family and state, the state is the more
fundamental, and that normal families are characterized by
conflict rather than harmony of interests between parents and
children. From these premises the court concludes that parents
should not be trusted to act in their children's best
interests, and that therefore the state may intervene even
when there is no evidence that parents are acting abusively.
Collectivism hides in a forest of reassuring bromides. "It
takes a whole village to raise a child," the secular intone;
"Every child is my child," the pious drowsily respond. Of all
these deceptions the language of "children's rights" is the
most brilliant-and also the most daring, for in no imaginable
world would children be competent to exercise their "rights"
themselves. The primary decision maker in the life of a child
must always be, and always is, someone else: if not parents,
then the state. So, although most rights limit the reach of
the government, so- called children's rights increase it. They
do nothing to empower children; they only empower mandarins.
I am reminded of an election-year scuffle between a father,
who was also a candidate, and a social service functionary.
"No government bureaucrat could love my children as I do," the
father said. "That's not true," protested the functionary, "I
love them just as much." "What are their names?" asked the
father.
People do wrong, and I have to do something. People are
unhappy, and I have to do something. People are foolish, and I
have to do something. I will absolve them. I will give them
things. I will take their children. At last we come to the
ninth and most mysterious moral error of political liberalism:
the fallacy of desperate gestures. Though it mixes with all
the others, it is different from each of them, different even
from perfectionism, with which it is often confused. The
perfectionist acts, at least in the beginning, from a desire
to relieve someone else's pain. The desperationist acts to
relieve his own: the pain of pity, the pain of impotence, the
pain of indignation. He is like a man who beats on a foggy
television screen with a pipe wrench, not because the wrench
will fix the picture but because it is handy and feels good to
use.
Not long ago I sat up late listening to two friends debate.
The first maintained that federal antipoverty policies were an
engine of misery, which had bought off the poor with checks
and coupons while undermining their families and fossilizing
them in permanent dependence on the government. For a while
the second denied the charge, but his denials were
half-hearted and at last he conceded it. Whether the state is
really doing more harm than good is not my pres-ent point;
perhaps he should have held his ground. But the interesting
thing is what happened next.
Having admitted that the federal antipoverty policies were
doing harm, he defended them anyway. "What do you propose
doing instead?" he demanded. "Nothing?" My other friend
replied that he meant no such thing, and spoke of what people
could do individually and through the churches. Friend one was
contemptuous. "Government is unique," he said. "You cannot
convince me that mere charity can take its place." "I don't
want it to," said friend two. "We've already agreed that
government hurts instead of helping. Besides, I'm not trying
to end poverty. I don't know how. I'm just trying to help
where I can reach." Friend one was unmoved. "We have to do
something," he said, and so he went on repeating.
The two friends were at cross-purposes. The rule of the
first was "Do no harm, and help where possible"; of the
second, "Better to harm magnificently in the name of help,
than to help but a little." Not that he would have put it that
way. He was medicating his pity with symbols, and the power of
the drug depends on self-deception.
Here lies the power of political liberalism: Its moral
errors are fortified with opiates. We may think that reality
will break through the dream by itself, but reality is not
self-interpreting; the causes by which errors are eventually
dissipated and replaced by other errors are hidden in God's
Providence. All we can do is keep up the critique which is in
the gospel, and in the meantime go on being Christians: our
eyes lifted up not to the spectacular idol of political
salvation, but to the Cross. Let those who will call this
doing nothing; we know better.
J. BUDZISZEWSKI teaches in the Department of Government at the
University of Texas, Austin. His companion essay, "The Problem
With Conservatism," will Appear in the April issue.

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