A Lesson for Mobsters
With regard to the rioting in France, there has been much talk in our newspapers about how France might learn from Britain, whose progressive policies have partly satisfied the mob, principally by letting it run riot every weekend.
But we on this side of the channel might take from the events in France further support for a lesson that we have already learnt: namely, that if one wishes a democratic government to listen to one’s minority grievances, whether they be justified or not, then one is often best served by hurling petrol-bombs than by writing letters to one’s elected representatives.
Such extra-electoral deeds go against all the stated principles of democracy, of course, about which our government is ever keen to inform us, but it is a fact – regrettable though it be – that democratic governments often do not listen to minority grievances until forced to do so. This does not mean they will necessarily give in to force; indeed, if the force is small, or if fighting the force will bring advantages, or if there is no other choice but to fight, then our democratic governments will most probably fight without concession. If a threat is grave, however, and concessions can be granted to assuage it, concessions moreover that do not lose them power or prestige, then grant them they may.
Certainly the talk will be of never giving in, of granting no concessions to violence, of looking for peaceful and democratic solutions, but all the time they will be listening and weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of treating with it. One cannot reasonably deny after all, that, if the IRA had been a nationalist-republican knitting circle, then Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness would still be irksomely spitting sponge-cake and dropping stitches, instead of sharing power at Stormont.
On the other hand, it has been noticed that democratic governments do not tend to fear little old ladies, that is unless they form a majority or brandish Molotovs. And until such day as they do, their grievances – being of a peaceful minority – will not be treated as seriously as those of a majority or a violent minority.
One will not need the insight of a sage in order to notice over the next few years the concessions that the French Government will make to its population’s violent minority; and one will need only the brains of a mobster to learn well the lesson therefrom.
On the other hand, it has been noticed that democratic governments do not tend to fear little old ladies, that is unless they form a majority or brandish Molotovs. And until such day as they do, their grievances – being of a peaceful minority – will not be treated as seriously as those of a majority or a violent minority.
Indeed so. Politics is inherently about power, whether that’s the power of the ballot box or the power of violence. Is it possible for human societies to be run any other way?
“Politics is inherently about power” – Quite so, and the awful thing about democracy (and other mass movements) is that it politicises the mass and makes everything about power.
“Is it possible for human societies to be run any other way?” – It is certainly possible for human societies to be run less. One could say that running human societies is a large part of the problem, that is if one believes that a lack of freedom is a problem. It wasn’t always the case that people thought of societies as being run, at least as strongly as they are today. One symptom of the democratic ideology, however, is the almost immoveable belief that there are no alternatives to it, a false dilemma that sees only democracy or illigitimate power. Thereby, democracy does not answer the question “How can we live in freedom?” but rather postulates as infallible the statement “Only the rule of the people is legitimate”. I am thankful, therefore, that modern western democracy has been tempered with (undemocratic) liberalism. It is not a given, however, that it will remain so, especially as the call for democracy grows ever louder above that of freedom. Indeed, there are some who say that mass movements inevitably become tyrannical.
In what sense is liberalism undemocratic? I mean if you define democracy narrowly as “what the majority want, the majority get”, then I guess you can get there. But I think you’ve got the chicken and egg the wrong way round: the liberalism comes first; the voting is a way for people to control outcomes within a range acceptable to liberal principles, to answer the question: how much liberalism, and what kind?, if you like.
“the liberalism comes first; the voting is a way for people to control outcomes within a range acceptable to liberal principlesâ€Â
– Indeed, just my point. Liberalism in the MODERN historical sequence comes first, and subsequent democracy is tempered thereby (as you say, “within a range acceptible to liberal principlesâ€Â, ipso facto undemocratic as it was not the product of democracy). I do indeed describe democracy in the narrow sense. What you seem to be describing when you use the word “democracy†is not democracy but our liberal democracy – precisely democracy tempered by (undemocratic) liberal principles!
Furthermore, if you wish for a longer view of the chicken and the egg, democracy in the historical sequence from antiquity to the present predates liberalism, and the democracy of the ancient world – being a pure democracy untempered by the undemocratic principles of liberalism — was tyrannical. The fact remains – as you point out – that ours is a democracy tempered by liberal principles. But it is dangerous to forget that democracy and liberalism are two different matters, dealing with two different questions. Now, you may believe that the former ensures the latter, but that is another argument, and one with which I cannot agree.
That ours is a democracy tempered by liberal principles is a contingent fact, not a necessary one, and it is this contingency that has so far saved us from the worst that democracy entails – but there is no necessity that our democracy will remain so tempered. It is evident moreover that our liberal principles have been eroded by democracy, partly because we have come to look upon democracy as the answer to a question that it does not ask.
Liberal principles may have saved us from an excess of democracy but they are not the only thing doing so. There is a big part played by meritocratic institutions like the public service, the judiciary, the police, central banks, etc, which provide the practical delivery of governance. These institutions have their own systems for distributing power on the basis of merit and provide a buffer against raw democracy. Liberal principles do guide these organisations – to varying degrees – but their chief strength is that they are guided by the realities of their task, rather than by the need to gather the votes of people who know or care little about what they do.
Unfortunately, these institutions are gradually becoming the dominion of executive government. The onset of democracy was accompanied by a fear of “mob rule”; it seems to me that over time this condition is increasingly realized. Personally, I’d like to see more power devolved to instutions with clear resposibilities, subject to law, but outside the direct control of the executive. It’s problematic, but it seems more hopeful to me.
“As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.”
– H.L. Mencken
Well said.
_That ours is a democracy tempered by liberal principles is a contingent fact, not a necessary one_
Heh, I’m not sure we disagree here, but I’d just put it differently: that ours is a liberal system of which democracy in the narrow sense of “voting on stuff” is a necessary part (but not the whole). Which is precisely why we need written constitutions. Some things (say, whether to lock someone up without charge for 90 days) should never be subject to a vote, in parliament or by the people.
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