Reason, Religion, and Democracy

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REASON, RELIGION, AND DEMOCRACY

The rise of religious fundamentalism in different parts of the world in recent years and its association with terrorism has led to a renewed interest in the nature of religion and its compatibility with Western institutions. Much of the focus of this new interest has contrasted religion and science as two different systems of knowledge. This book also emphasizes the difference between religion and science as a means for understanding causal relationships, but it focuses more on the challenge religious extremism poses for liberal democratic institutions. This book contains a discussion of human psychology, describes the salient characteristics of all religions, and contrasts religion and science as systems of thought. Historical sketches are used to link modernity and the use of the human capacity for reasoning to advance human welfare. The book describes the conditions under which democratic institutions can advance human welfare and the nature of constitutional rights as protectors of individual freedoms. Extremist religions are shown to pose a threat to liberal democracy, a threat that has implications for immigration, education policies, and the definition of citizenship. Dennis C. Mueller is professor emeritus of economics at the University of Vienna. His main research interests are public choice, industrial economics, and constitutional political economy. He has held positions at the University of Maryland and Cornell University and is the author of many articles and several books, including Public Choice III (Cambridge University Press, 2003), The Corporation (2003), and Constitutional Democracy (1996). Mueller is a past president of the Public Choice Society, the Southern Economic Association, the Industrial Organization Society, the European Association for Research in Industrial Economics (E.A.R.I.E.), the International Joseph A. Schumpeter Society, and the European Public Choice Society.

Reason, Religion, and Democracy DENNIS C. MUELLER University of Vienna

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo, Delhi, Dubai, Tokyo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521115018 © Dennis C. Mueller 2009 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published in print format 2009 ISBN-13

978-0-511-65168-7

eBook (NetLibrary)

ISBN-13

978-0-521-11501-8

Hardback

ISBN-13

978-0-521-13273-2

Paperback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of urls for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

To Laurence, Jacob, and Adrienne

Contents

Preface 1

page ix

Liberal Democracy

1

PART I. FUNDAMENTALS: EVOLUTION, PSYCHOLOGY, REASONING, AND RELIGION

2

Evolution, Psychology, and Reason

31

3

Religion

51

PART II. A HISTORICAL LOOK AT THE STATE, DEMOCRACY, AND RELIGION

4

The First States

79

5

Athens and Rome

93

6

The Caliphate

116

7

The Renaissance

136

8

The Enlightenment

159

9

Religion and Democracy After the French Revolution

197

Epilogue to Part Two

235

PART III. THE INSTITUTIONS OF LIBERAL DEMOCRACY

10

Democracy and Citizenship

239

11

Rights

271

12

Education, Citizenship, Immigration, and Democracy

316

vii

viii

Contents PART IV. CHALLENGES TO LIBERAL DEMOCRACY

13

Democracy and Religion

355

14

Building and Protecting Liberal Democracy

400

References

419

Author Index

437

Subject Index

442

Preface

Shortly after the completion of the final revisions to this book, a front-page article appeared in the Austrian newspaper Die Presse reporting estimates of some 250 million Christians worldwide threatened by violence or death for their beliefs. Most of the countries where this repression is taking place are not democracies – for example, Iran, Vietnam, China. Some countries such as India and Turkey are certainly democracies, but cannot be called liberal democracies because of the violations of religious freedom rights that occur within them. These instances of religious persecution illustrate a major theme of this book – the incompatibility of strong religious views and liberal democracy. Most of the countries in which religious persecution is taking place can be characterized as nonmodern, traditionalist societies – for example, Pakistan, Burma, Yemen, Kenya. Traditionalism and religion go hand in hand, as does to a large extent traditionalism and dictatorship. The examples of India and Turkey indicate, however, that democracy is no guarantee of liberalism. Wherever extremist religious beliefs exist, liberalism is at peril. It was the growing importance of religious extremism in the United States, South America, the Middle East, and other parts of the world and the potential for religious extremism to arise even in Europe that led me to write this book. No one who values liberalism and democracy should assume that they are invulnerable to attack from religious extremists. In several places, data have been taken from Internet websites with the website addresses given as sources. These website addresses change from time to time, so we cannot guarantee that the address given is still current. Alan Hamlin and an anonymous referee offered some helpful comments on an early draft of the book. Bob Tollison and Roger Congleton read the book thoroughly, and made many suggestions for improvement. Jacob Mueller, my son, also read the manuscript and caught many errors of style ix

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Preface

and substance. Elizabeth Raab gave it a careful reading and made many suggestions for improving word choice and punctuation. To all of these people, I am most grateful. Finally, I would like to thank my secretary for the last fifteen years, Heidi Wurm, for her diligent effort to bring the manuscript into shape for the publisher. She made my side of the project immensely easier. One often adds a perfunctory disclaimer to such acknowledgments of help to the effect that the previously named do not necessarily share all views of the author. In this case, the disclaimer is definitely needed and is not perfunctory. If this book has any positive impact, it may alert some people to the dangers traditionalism and religion pose for liberal democracy and help protect it against these threats, thereby producing a better future. With this hope for the future in mind, I am dedicating this book to my children. Dennis C. Mueller Vienna, Austria May 2009

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Liberal Democracy

As in other matters of this kind, we immediately come up against a stumbling-block of terminology. This is to be expected since the objective investigations that we are making require an objective terminology, whereas the subjective discussions customary in these matters are served well enough by a subjective terminology drawn from everyday language. For example, everyone recognizes that at the present time ‘democracy’ is tending to become the political system of all civilized peoples. But what is the precise meaning of this term ‘democracy’? It is even more vague than the vaguest of terms, ‘religion.’ (Vilfredo Pareto, 1916)1

The richest countries today are, with very few exceptions, liberal democracies. They are liberal in the sense that their citizens possess rights that guarantee them the freedom to go and do as they wish. They are democracies in that their citizens exercise significant control over the state. In the poorest countries, one or both attributes of liberal democracy are often missing. With the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe in 1989 and in the Soviet Union two years later, it appeared that capitalism and liberal democracy had triumphed over planned economies and dictatorial governments. The speed with which the former communist countries adopted market and democratic institutions suggested that their citizens believed that these institutions were best suited for meeting their needs and improving their welfare. As poor countries develop, they too could be expected to become liberal democracies. Today, liberal democracy’s triumph seems less certain. Under President Vladimir Putin, Russian newspapers and television stations that were independent and sometimes critical of the state were closed down; political 1

The quote is from The General Treatise on Sociology, and is taken from Finer (1966, p. 266).

1

2

Liberal Democracy

demonstrations against the government were brutally suppressed; persons deemed a threat to the government have been imprisoned on trumped-up charges; government critics mysteriously disappeared or were assassinated. Yet, Putin continued to obtain 80 percent approval ratings right up until he exchanged his role as president for the post of prime minister. It appears that a large majority of Russians are indifferent as to whether liberal democracy survives in Russia. A similar observation can be made with respect to Hugo Chavez’s destruction of liberal democratic institutions in Venezuela and his continued popularity with vast numbers of Venezuelans. Oil has brought prosperity to several Middle Eastern countries, but this prosperity has been accompanied by neither an expansion of liberal freedoms nor democracy. Moreover, the attacks (September 11, 2001, in the United States; March 11, 2004, in Spain; July 2005 in London; and the many failed terrorist attacks) reveal that there are quite a few people who not only do not want their own countries to be liberal democracies, but would also like to injure and ideally destroy liberal democratic institutions elsewhere. China has become a capitalist country in all but name, and its income per capita has grown at a spectacular 10 percent or more per year. Yet there is little sign that it is about to join the liberal democracies of the West. Prosperity has also not spawned liberal democracy in Singapore. Thus, considerable evidence indicates that people in large parts of the world have either rejected liberal democracy as a form of government, or feel that they can get along fairly well without it. This rejection or indifference to liberal democracy may partly be because of a perception that democratic institutions “fail to deliver the goods.” Many countries in South America, Africa, and other parts of the world have adopted democratic institutions and not experienced the economic growth and improvements in welfare that they had hoped to achieve. Many have reverted back to dictatorship, often, as in Russia and Venezuela, without their populations seeming to care. One question addressed in this book is why democracy is tried and then discarded in many developing countries, or why it is never tried at all.

I. Declining Support for Politics and Politicians in Western Democracies One possible answer to the question as to why democracy fails to get adopted or survive in developing countries is that they are too poor. Seymour Martin Lipset (1959) was among the first to argue that democracy can only emerge after a country obtains a certain level of economic development. The link

I. Declining Support for Politics and Politicians in Western Democracies

3

between economic development and democracy has been documented by Burkhart and Lewis-Beck (1994) and Przeworski and Limongi (1997). One advantage from higher incomes is that citizens may spend less time working and have more time to participate in the democratic process. More importantly, however, economic prosperity provides resources to educate a country’s citizenry, which in turn should improve the quality of the collective decisions they make in a democracy. Carles Boix claims that it is not only the level of income that a country reaches that determines whether it democratizes, but also its distribution. More specifically, he identifies two prerequisites for democracy: Democracy prevails when either economic equality or capital mobility are high in a given country. On the one hand, economic equality promotes democracy. As the distribution of assets and incomes becomes more balanced among individuals, the redistributive impact of democracy diminishes and the probability of a peaceful transition from an authoritarian regime to universal suffrage increases. On the other hand, a decline in the specificity of capital, that is, a reduction in the cost of moving capital away from its country of origin, curbs the redistributive pressures from noncapital holders. As capital becomes more mobile, democratic governments must curb taxes – if the taxes were too high, capital would escape abroad. Accordingly, the extent of political conflict among capital holders and nonholders diminishes, and the likelihood of democracy rises. By contrast, authoritarianism predominates in those countries in which both the level of inequality and the lack of capital mobility are high. (Boix, 2003, p. 3)

Although the association between both income and income equality and democracy is well established, these two variables are only part of the story; otherwise Singapore would already be a democracy, and China would be rapidly approaching becoming one. The United States at the end of the eighteenth century and the budding democracies in Europe in the late nineteenth century were poorer than many South American and Asian countries today, which have had spotty records as democracies. So too, of course, was Ancient Greece. Moreover, Greece and late-eighteenth-century United States were also largely agricultural economies like many developing countries. More than high incomes and equal distribution is needed to make a democracy successful. In addition, liberal democracy does not seem to be fairing that well, even in the richest countries of the world. Performing an Internet search on the words – poll, trust, and politicians – on a hot day in July, 2007 yielded the following headlines: A BBC poll shows 80% of [British] voters do not trust politicians. Canadians have grown increasingly dissatisfied with all politicians.

4

Liberal Democracy A record 88% of Japanese in a fresh public opinion poll are dissatisfied with politics. Americans’ distrust of politicians and business leaders has reached epidemic level. Britons trust politicians less than car salesmen.

America’s politicians could obtain some solace, however; they were trusted more than car salesmen. A poll placed House of Representatives members in next-to-last place, just above car salesmen. A year later, however, Congress’s approval rating had sunk to a lowly 14 percent, beneath even that of President George W. Bush, who had the lowest approval rating of any president since World War II.2 In the summer of 2008, 86 percent of the Chinese citizens polled by the Pew Foundation said they were satisfied with the direction in which their country was going; at the same time, some 80 percent of Americans thought that their country was headed in the wrong direction.3 How can so many people in a country with a heavy-handed dictatorship be satisfied with the direction of their country, and so many in the world’s “oldest democracy” be dissatisfied? It would appear that America’s exalted democratic political system is not living up to its citizens’ expectations. The United States is not alone in this respect. During the last fifty years, “feelings that politicians care what people think” have declined in Austria, France, Germany, Sweden, and the United States, reaching levels between 20 and 30 percent by the late 1990s. Trends in confidence in politicians and government have been uniformly negative in all highly developed democracies with the exception of the Netherlands.4 On the other hand, people continue to exhibit pride in their countries and believe that democracy is the best form of government.5 Citizens appear to love their countries and their democratic institutions, and yet they despise the people whom they elect to govern them. Logically, there can be only three explanations for why a democracy fails to satisfy its citizens: (1) There is some form of institutional failure that prevents the government from providing the policies that the citizens want; (2) citizens mistakenly choose bad leaders or bad policies that lead to public 2 3 4 5

Economist, July 26, 2008b. The 2008 Pew Global Attitudes Survey in China, www.perglobal.org, and Economist, July 26, 2008a. See Dalton (2004, ch. 1), and Putnam, Pharr, and Dalton (2000). See Norris (1999, pp. 16–21).

I. Declining Support for Politics and Politicians in Western Democracies

5

dissatisfaction; or (3) citizens’ preferences are such that it is impossible for the government to provide a set of policies that satisfies all citizens. All three possibilities are discussed in this book.6 The emphasis is, however, on the second and third explanations. Computer scientists have an expression: “garbage in, garbage out.” The same adage is appropriate for democratic institutions. The political outcomes from a democratic process in terms of the people elected to serve in government and the policies it implements depend crucially on the inputs from voters. This statement seems so obvious that one is embarrassed to make it. Yet, many who would admit its validity fail to understand its implications. Many appear to believe that all that is needed to have a wellfunctioning democracy is that all residents within a country have the right to vote, and that most exercise this right. How they vote does not matter. This book challenges this assumption. It argues that democratic institutions will be more successful at satisfying citizens’ preferences: (1) the more homogeneous these preferences are, and (2) the more intelligent and wellinformed voters are. No government can satisfy all voters, if half desire one thing and the other half its antithesis. No government is likely to implement the proper policies for dealing with climate change, globalization, and demographic changes, if its citizens are incapable of understanding these issues or are unwilling to devote the time needed to understand them. These propositions have important implications for determining who should be allowed to vote, and how citizens are educated. Thus, this book questions the popular beliefs that democracies function best if there is universal suffrage, that rich democratic countries should have liberal immigration policies, and that immigrants should be granted voting rights soon after they arrive in a country. Such policies lead to heterogeneous electorates with large numbers of voters who are either uninformed about the issues facing their country or incapable of understanding them even when they are informed. Governments in heterogeneous societies have more difficulty satisfying their citizens, because the citizens disagree over what their governments should be doing. It may help to highlight the importance of these differences by looking more closely at two countries: one a highly successful liberal democracy and the other a failed democracy. Their incomes differ greatly in the expected way, but, as we shall see, this is only part of the story. 6

For additional discussion see, Norris (1999), Dalton (2004), and the collection of essays in Pharr and Putnam (2000).

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Liberal Democracy

II. Profiles of Two Countries A. Switzerland Switzerland is a small, mountainous country in Central Europe. Some facts about it are presented in Table 1.1. Switzerland has one of the highest incomes per capita in the world, virtually a 100 percent literacy rate, and a life expectancy of more than eighty years. It also has some of the strongest democratic institutions in the world. These can be traced back as far as 1291, the traditional date given for its founding, when citizens from the rural communities of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden met in the meadow, R¨utli, and signed a pact to defend one another in case of attack. In doing so, they hoped to free themselves from domination by the Habsburgs. Although the event definitely took place, its importance for the development of Switzerland – let alone the supposed role William Tell played in it – has been questioned.7 This being said, the Oath of R¨utli does appear to be an early instance of cooperation among diverse sets of people, and a form of founding constitutional contract for what later would grow into the republic of Switzerland. Table 1.1. Statistics on Switzerland, 2005 Population Population annual growth rate (1990–2005) Gross national income per capita (US $) Life expectancy at birth Distribution of population by language German French Italian Romanic Other Distribution of population by religion Roman Catholic Protestant Other

7,252,000 0.4% 54,930 81 Total population 65% 18% 12% 1% 4%

Swiss nationals 74% 20% 4% 1% 1%

47.6% 44.3% 8.1%

Sources: http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/switzerland statistics.html; and http://www.about .ch/statistics/index.html.

The mountains of Switzerland divide the country into small, separated valleys. Historically, the chief occupation in these mountainous 7

See discussion and references in Steinberg (1996, pp. 14–18).

II. Profiles of Two Countries

7

communities was herding cows, which led to a population of independent and rather rugged individuals accustomed to being free from outside domination. Each valley came to be organized as a commune, which was compelled to make collective decisions regarding the maintenance of the common pastures, marketing cattle, and the like. Democracy in Switzerland was thus fostered in part because of its physical characteristics.8 Swiss history reads like the history of much of the rest of Europe.9 The sixteenth century brought the Protestant Reformation and religious war. The eighteenth century brought the Enlightenment; the nineteenth brought revolution. The Bolsheviks’ victory in Russia at the start of the twentieth century inspired socialists in Switzerland – as in Austria and other parts of Europe – to launch a general strike in 1918 in the hopes of bringing socialism to their country. The pragmatism of the Swiss, and perhaps a bit of luck, resulted in less violent and destructive consequences to these events, however, than occurred elsewhere in Europe. This pragmatism has been conspicuous throughout Switzerland’s history. Although Swiss Protestants and Catholics went to war in 1529 and again in 1531, their casualties were minuscule compared to Germany and France. The two sides soon ceased hostilities and concentrated on making money by feeding the warring factions in neighboring countries. The Swiss revolution or civil war of 1848 lasted about a month and produced fewer than two hundred casualties – a mere Hasanschiessen (hare shoot), in the words of Otto von Bismarck.10 Out of the revolution came a new constitution, ostensibly patterned in part on the U.S. Constitution, which created the strong federalist structure that survives to this day.

B. Nigeria Nigeria lies on the western coast of Africa. Some facts about it are presented in Table 1.2. Prior to the arrival of the Arabs and Europeans, the area of what is now, Nigeria, was occupied by tribal kingdoms such as the Hausa in the north and the Yoruba in the southeast. The Arabs arrived in the north in the thirteenth century and began to convert the population to Islam. The Portuguese, followed by other Europeans, arrived in the fifteenth century. Nigeria was recognized as a British colony by the rest of Europe in 1885 and obtained its independence in 1960, when parliamentary democracy was 8 9 10

See further discussion in Steinberg (1996, chs. 2 and 3). The discussion in this paragraph draws heavily on Steinberg (1996, ch. 2). Steinberg (1996, p. 46).

8

Liberal Democracy Table 1.2. Statistics on Nigeria, 2005 Population Population annual growth rate (1990–2005) Gross national income per capita (US $) Life expectancy at birth Literacy∗ (male) Literacy (female)

131,500,000 2.4% 560 43.8 75.7% 60.6%

Distribution of population by ethnic group Hausa and Fulani Yoruba Igbo (Ibo) Ijaw Kanuri Ibibio Tiv 250 other ethnic groups

29% 21% 18% 10% 4% 3.5% 2.5% 12%

Distribution of population by religion Muslim Christian Indigenous

50% 40% 10%

∗

Ages 15 and older can read and write. Source: https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-facook/ index.html.

introduced along with a federalist structure. In 1962, Governor Awolowo, of the western province, tried to introduce a radical form of socialism into Nigeria. Rioting ensued and the prime minister resigned. Nigeria’s politics have been turbulent ever since.11 In 1966, the Christian Igbo people of the southeast staged a military coup. Muslim mobs in the north then massacred the Igbo, and Muslim officers staged a counter-coup. The Igbo then massacred northerners in the eastern cities, and the eastern region voted to secede from Nigeria and create the Republic of Biafra. A civil war ensued and lasted until 1970. An estimated one million to three million people died during the fighting or from the famine and diseases that the war caused. Military coups occurred in 1975 and 1985. In 1996, a United Nations report stated that Nigeria’s “problems and human rights are terrible and the political problems are terrifying.” By 1997, Nigeria’s income per capita had sunk to the thirteenth lowest in the world; it had been thirty-third from the 11

Taken from a variety of sources including: http://www.infoplease.com/ipa/A0107847.html, and Economist, April 28, 2007.

II. Profiles of Two Countries

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top a little more than twenty years earlier. In 2007, Umaru Yar’Adua was elected president with an “astonishing” 70 percent of the vote. International observers declared the results fraudulent; Nigeria’s independent observers called them a “sham.”12

C. Discussion Switzerland and Nigeria seem to illustrate the links between income and democracy, and between income distribution and democracy. Switzerland is rich; Nigeria is poor. Democracy first appears in Switzerland in the alpine cantons where herding was the dominant economic activity, because it did not afford large concentrations of wealth. In contrast, in the flat parts of Switzerland, as elsewhere in Europe, feudalism existed and wealth concentrated in the cities of Zurich, Bern, Basel, and Geneva, all of which had oligarchical political structures that did not give way to more democratic institutions until the European revolutions of 1848 and the new constitution that they produced.13 Nigeria’s main source of wealth is its oil – a very immobile source of wealth – and thus its economy is not well-suited for the emergence and survival of democracy.14 Yet why is Switzerland so wealthy and Nigeria so poor? Historically, being landlocked has been an economic disadvantage, because it is more difficult to engage in international trade. Natural resources such as minerals and fertile plains are obviously a great economic advantage. Observing the geography of both countries and their command over natural resources, one might predict that Nigeria would be rich and Switzerland poor. Landlocked Switzerland’s mountains do not contain vast quantities of copper as do Chile’s or iron ore as in China. It has no great reserves of oil as does Nigeria. Yet income per capita is roughly 100 times higher in Switzerland than in Nigeria. Many economists agree with Douglass North that institutional differences are the most important determinants of economic development.15 Countries that establish property rights and market institutions, give individuals 12 13 14 15

Economist, April 28, 2007, p. 45. Boix (2003, pp. 111–18). Boix (2003, p. 85) finds an inverse correlation between democratization and the importance of the oil sector using cross-national data. See North and Thomas (1973) and North (1990). Acemoglu, Johnson, and Robinson (2005) stress the importance of access to the Atlantic Ocean and political institutions that constrained the monarchy and protected commercial interests from arbitrary confiscations of property in explaining the much more rapid growth of Great Britain and the Netherlands between 1500 and 1850 in comparison with Spain, Portugal, and France.

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incentives to acquire human and physical capital, to innovate, and to engage in trade, experience sustained economic growth. Switzerland, historically a nation of cow herders, now hosts companies that are world leaders in banking, chemicals, food products, pharmaceuticals, watch making, and other areas. Nigeria, although home to some of the richest oil deposits on earth, remains mired in poverty for the most part. The focus of this book is not on economic growth, but on democracy. Political institutions can foster economic growth or hinder it. In Nigeria, they have hindered it. When the world price of oil has been high, Nigeria’s politicians have either channeled oil revenues into their own bank accounts or wasted them on luxury government cars, helicopters, and other perks of office. Another important factor explaining Nigeria’s lack of economic development is its high population growth rate −2.4 percent as opposed to 0.4 percent in Switzerland. This rapid growth rate results in more than 42 percent of Nigerians being fourteen years old or younger. Given the waste in government, the country cannot properly educate its rapidly growing population, thus helping to perpetuate poverty. It does not take huge investments and complicated technologies to control population growth, but it does take intelligently designed policies focused on this goal. Not only has Nigeria failed to introduce such policies, the state hinders people from preventing births by using contraception or other means. Abortions are only available to save a pregnant woman’s life and anyone assisting in an abortion can be imprisoned for up to fourteen years. Knowledge of contraception is limited. Economists define a public good as one that all members of the community consume in equal quantity at zero marginal cost. Examples of public goods are national defense, police and fire protection, highways, and clean air and water. Because all members of a community consume the same bundle of public goods and services, it will be easier for the state to satisfy its citizens if they have similar preferences for public goods and services. Democratic institutions are perceived as functioning more poorly in countries with heterogeneous populations. Both Switzerland and Nigeria have heterogeneous populations compared to, for example, Sweden. Heterogeneity within Switzerland, however, is minuscule compared to Nigeria, which has more than 250 different ethnic groups speaking more than 200 languages. Switzerland has four language groups. Switzerland fought its wars over religion in the sixteenth century, and today religious differences in Switzerland are a matter of little concern. Nigeria’s Muslims and Christians have been fighting their religious wars over issues such as the use of Shari’a law over the last half century.

II. Profiles of Two Countries

11

The best way to accommodate heterogeneity is to organize a democracy as a federation. Local communities are typically more homogeneous than the nation as a whole, and the more public goods and services are supplied at the local level, the more closely they match the preferences of their citizens. Switzerland’s federalist institutions are among the strongest in the world. Indeed, since World War II, while most federalist states have become more centralized, Switzerland has gradually become more decentralized.16 Its central government is perhaps the weakest of any rich, democratic country. In place of a powerful prime minister or president, executive power in Switzerland is in the hands of a committee composed of leaders of the major parties, a committee that traditionally has sought to reach collective decisions by consensus. The power of politicians at all government levels is further curtailed by the rights Swiss citizens have to initiate referenda to reverse actions taken by their elected representatives. Nigeria is also organized as a federalist state. However, like its African neighbors, Nigeria has a presidential (“big man”) form of government, in which the president possesses strong powers even when democratically elected. Because the state’s main source of revenue is oil, decisions at the central level as to how these revenues are shared and spent make the identity of the president of great importance. Thus, the distribution of oil revenue rather than the provision of public goods becomes the primary concern of the central government. Because the president is from one ethnic (tribal) group and of one religion, and he owes his office to the support of these groups, it becomes almost obligatory to reward them for their support by diverting oil revenue, thus alienating other tribal and religious elements of the population. Rent seeking – be it by tribal and religious interest groups or corrupt politicians – forms the main activity of the state.17 This preoccupation with rent seeking, as opposed to providing public goods, helps explain Nigeria’s turbulent political history and disappointing governmental performance. Oil revenues either flow into the pockets of corrupt politicians and public officials or are dissipated in wasteful public expenditures. In a federalist democracy, citizens at all levels of government need to take an active part in deciding what goods and services are provided or in choosing representatives who make those decisions. In addition, citizens have to possess the capability to make intelligent choices. Switzerland has 16 17

See Blankart (2000). See again, Economist, April 28, 2007. This article also gives an example of one Nigerian state, Cross Rivers, where its governor – without any oil revenue – has done an effective job of providing goods and services to its citizens. Federalism could work even in Nigeria with the right political leadership.

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a highly educated population with much experience with the democratic process. More than 42 percent of Nigeria’s population is less than age 15, and 30 percent of those ages 15 and older cannot read and write. Thus, in a developing country like Nigeria, many citizens are likely to be incapable of making intelligent collective decisions. Switzerland is a prime example of a modern, progressive society. Its population is not only highly literate, but has also been exposed to and largely accepted the ideas of the Enlightenment. These concepts include a commitment to scientific progress; a respect for the rights of individuals to engage in market exchange; to exercise free speech, freedom of assembly, and the other basic freedoms associated with Enlightenment thinking. Nigeria, in contrast, is a prime example of a traditional society. Tribal loyalties remain strong, and many Nigerians still adhere to tribal customs and traditions and hold superstitious beliefs. Belonging to one of the universal religions (Islam and Christianity) becomes another source of identity for engaging in rent seeking and civil strife. Like almost all traditional societies, Nigeria is caught in a Malthusian trap in which increases in income from oil revenues or other sources are dissipated because of population growth. Instead of income per capita growing, the population grows and much of the population remains in poverty. The contrast and conflict between progressivism and traditionalism is one theme of this book. Becoming one of the rich, democratic countries of the world requires the abandonment of traditional modes of thought and institutions for those of modern societies. Although it is sometimes helpful to classify countries as either modern or traditional, all progressive countries contain traditional elements that seek to undermine the ideas and institutions of the modern, liberal democratic state. The same is true of traditional societies, which contain some people who would like to see their countries discard those traditional elements that prevent them from entering the modern world and escaping poverty. Switzerland and Nigeria were chosen as examples of modern and traditional states, but many other countries could have been chosen. Switzerland is rather extreme in its use of direct democracy, but other rich countries are also committed to the principles of the modern, progressive state. These include investing in scientific and technological progress, educating their populations, and protecting democratic freedoms and political institutions. Kenya is another example of a traditional society with great, unrealized potential for economic growth. It has access to the sea, natural resources, and some of the most spectacular wildlife preserves in Africa. However, it, like Nigeria, has let its population grow at a rate that negates whatever

III. What is Liberal Democracy?

13

economic progress it makes (population in 1900, 1 million; 1963, 8 million; 2007, 35 million). Kenya’s politics, like that of Nigeria, have been plagued by tribal rivalries. When Kenyans vote, they do not choose the candidates who would be best for Kenya, but rather they vote along tribal lines. Whichever tribe wins the presidency prospers through graft and corruption at the expense of the losers. This aspect of Kenyan politics was vividly illustrated following the December 27, 2007, presidential election. Mwai Kibaki, a Kikuyu, had been widely expected to lose to Raila Odinga, whose main support comes from the Luo and Kalenjin. Kibaki claimed to have won the election; Odinga challenged this claim. Anticipating serious consequences for themselves, the supporters of each turned upon one another, which led to hundreds of deaths and thousands of displaced persons. Although Kenya has been more of a dictatorship than a democracy since its independence in 1963, this election result illustrates that the absence of an educated electorate, which understands that democracy only works when it benefits all citizens, makes it unlikely that the country would achieve much better outcomes with less corrupt and authoritarian leaders.18 Similar examples exist in other parts of the world (Sri Lanka, Nicaragua) as well.

III. What is Liberal Democracy? Democracy is a political system in which a nontrivial portion of a community participates in a process that determines what the government does. Their participation may directly determine the collective choices of the community, as in ancient Athens or some modern-day Swiss Gemeinden, or indirectly through the election of representatives. The key criterion is that there is a link between what the citizens want and what they get from the state. In a liberal democracy, citizens not only participate in a democratic process, but they also enjoy great freedom to think and do as they please. This freedom is protected by a set of constitutional rights enforced by the judiciary. Thus, liberal democracy requires two sets of institutions: voting rules and electoral laws that enable the state to provide goods and services that benefit the citizens, and constitutional rights and a judiciary that protect certain individual freedoms from the state. Democracy and liberalism can both be defined over a continuum. It is obvious that eighteenth-century tsarist Russia was not a democracy, and fifth-century BCE Athens was, but between these two extremes there exists a 18

See discussion in Economist, June 9, 2007.

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Liberal Democracy

vast array of institutional structures that are more or less responsive to citizen preferences and good at satisfying their wants. Russia today is less democratic than Switzerland, but more democratic than it was in the eighteenth century. Americans enjoy greater free speech rights than Germans, although both countries fall into the category of liberal democracies. My definition of democracy requires that a portion of the community participate in the political process, but that leaves open how large that portion must be other than excluding rule by a single person or a handful of persons. It is customary today when defining democracy to impose the criterion that a large fraction – ideally all – of the adult population in a community have the right to vote.19 Using this criterion, some scholars reject the idea that Ancient Athens was a democracy, because it contained large numbers of foreign-born adults who were not citizens and therefore not eligible to participate in politics. Women and slaves were also excluded.20 Slavery existed in most parts of the world well into the nineteenth century, however, and in some parts into the twentieth century. Although it seems obvious today that slavery was an objectionable institution, it was not so obvious to people in the past. Even a rather intelligent and not morally depraved person like Aristotle could believe that some people were destined to be slaves by their very nature. St. Augustine thought that it was God’s punishment for sin. If democracy requires the absence of slavery and universal suffrage of both men and women, then democracy did not exist anywhere prior to the twentieth century. Certainly it did not exist in the United States at its founding, because slavery existed in the South and women could not vote anywhere. Using full universal suffrage as a criterion for democracy transforms George Washington from being the first elected president of one of the world’s first democratic republics into just another retired general at the head of an oligarchy. I find this definition far too narrow, and prefer to think of suffrage as one aspect of democracy, but not a defining criterion. Indeed, an important issue facing a democratic community is how to define citizenship so that its democratic institutions produce desirable outcomes. Thus, the focus of this book is not solely on the nature of political institutions in a liberal democracy but also on the characteristics of the participants in the political process. How well a set of democratic institutions does in producing outcomes that match the preferences of the community and advance their welfare depends on the nature of these preferences and how they are expressed. Emphasis on the quality of citizens is not new to discussions of democracy, although it has largely fallen out of vogue recently. 19 20

Dahl (1998, pp. 37–8) and Tilly (2007, pp. 7–11). Tilly (2007, pp. 26–9).

IV. Citizenship and Liberal Democracy

15

It is sufficiently important to the arguments of this book that we briefly discuss the issue in the next section, and devote a chapter to it later.

IV. Citizenship and Liberal Democracy The salient physical characteristic separating humans from other animals is the size of their brains. The salient behavioral characteristic separating humans from other animals is our capacity for reasoning. Human evolution consists of the continual development of this capacity. This development was greatly advanced by the invention of language and later of writing. Throughout much of human history following the invention of writing, the ability to read and write was confined to small minorities – elites who typically governed in a more or less authoritarian manner. Democracy – rule by the citizens – only became possible when the capability to read, write, and reason became widespread in the community. In the fields of political science and public choice, it is often assumed that citizens are rational actors when modeling political institutions. What is less often stressed is that a normative justification for democratic political institutions requires that citizens act rationally and responsibly when carrying out their civic duties. The Ancient Greeks exposed the great potential of the human mind most vividly. The accomplishments of a small band of thinkers to the fields of philosophy, science, mathematics, medicine, drama, and art are nothing short of astonishing. And, of course, they gave the world the first set of effective democratic institutions. The simultaneous appearance of a passion for logical thinking and democracy in a society was no accident. If the Athenians had been incapable of governing themselves in a way that benefited the entire community, Athenian democracy could not have survived as long as it did. Important to the success of Athenian democracy were the existence of a shared identity and a shared set of goals. In the absence of such common interests, democracy (or any other form of government for that matter) cannot advance the interests of the entire community. The success of the Athenian democracy was also because of – to use Aristotle’s language – a virtuous citizenry. The Athenian citizen needed to commit himself to fulfilling the responsibilities of citizenship – participation in the Assembly, holding office when called upon, going to war when necessary. For Aristotle, the virtues of “the good citizen [were to] know how to govern like a freeman, and how to obey like a freeman.”21 21

Aristotle, Politics, Book III, Sec. 4; McKeon (1941, p. 1182).

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Tocqueville also recognized the importance of citizen virtue for the success of the American experiment in democracy. He claimed that: American moralists do not profess that men ought to sacrifice themselves for their fellow creatures because it is noble to make such sacrifices, but they boldly aver that such sacrifices are as necessary to him who imposes them upon himself as to him for whose sake they are made . . . They therefore do not deny that every man may follow his own interest, but they endeavor to prove that it is the interest of every man to be virtuous. (de Tocqueville, [1840]1945, pp. 129–30, emphasis in the original)

Elsewhere, when describing public spirit in the United States, de Tocqueville first describes a “kind of patriotism” that takes the form of an “instinctive passion.” He then goes on to discuss: . . . another species of attachment to country which is more rational than the one I have been describing. It is perhaps less generous and less ardent, but it is more fruitful and more lasting: it springs from knowledge; it is nurtured by the laws; it grows by the exercise of civil rights; and, in the end, it is confounded with the personal interests of the citizen. A man comprehends the influence which the wellbeing of his country has upon his own; he is aware that the laws permit him to contribute to that prosperity, and he labors to promote it, first because it benefits him, and secondly because it is in part his own work.22

Thus, de Tocqueville saw the success of America’s early experiment with democracy resting in part on a sense of public spirit among its citizens that led them to realize that their personal prosperity was tied to that of their community. When they as citizens acted to promote the welfare of the community, they also promoted their own welfare. A similar sense of public spirit was essential to the success of Athenian democracy, and the Venetian Republic as discussed later. It has also been an important contributor to the success of democracy in Switzerland. An educated and intelligent electorate with common interests, a shared identity, and a commitment to the community have all been elements in successful democracies. When these elements are missing, democracy has generally been unsuccessful. Tribal and religious differences in Nigeria and Kenya have precluded the development of a sense of identity to the country, a common set of interests, and a willingness among the citizenry to see these common interests advanced. The consequence has been a history of rent seeking and internal strife. After the fall of Saddam Hussein, it would have seemed that the Iraqi people shared an interest in bringing peace and prosperity to their country and an interest in sharing the country’s enormous oil wealth for the good of 22

Tocqueville ([1835]1945, p. 251). See also de Tocqueville ([1840]1945, pp. 150–1).

V. Threats to Liberal Democracy

17

all. Sensing these common interests, the Iraqis would have voted for the most capable and honest leaders who would introduce the policies necessary for achieving these common goals. However, the Iraqi peoples did not vote this way. Instead, they voted along ethnic and religious lines, and rent seeking and internal strife have been the fate of this country ever since. Although the United States partly is to blame for the violence following Hussein’s deposing, the makeup of the elected government would have led to factional conflicts without the United States’ help. Voting along religious lines has also contributed to the violent history of Lebanon’s democracy, despite its having a reasonably well-educated and religiously tolerant population. Conventional wisdom claims that full-fledged democracy requires universal suffrage. Denying people the privilege of voting because they are uninformed about public issues or illiterate is regarded as undemocratic. However, people who are uninformed about political issues or illiterate are more vulnerable to believing the outlandish promises of populist politicians. The combination of high illiteracy rates and extreme income differences in Latin America helps to explain the periodic elections of demagogues like Juan Peron and Hugo Chavez. It also helps explain why democracy has been less stable in Latin America than in Canada or Australia, for example, over the last fifty years, and why democracy has been less successful in advancing the collective interests of Latin Americans when it has existed. One of the issues that has troubled observers of politics from Plato and Aristotle to William Galston (1991) and Eamonn Callan (1997) is the extent to which democracy must be tempered with aristocracy for it to function properly. In this context, aristocracy can be thought of in two senses: (1) the citizen body elects a political elite (an elite with more expertise and intelligence than the body of citizens) to govern for them, or (2) that only an elite subset of the citizens (those with more education or loyalty to the state, for example) forms the electorate. Most democracies today are of the first type. We shall argue that there are advantages to having the second form of democratic aristocracy in some cases.

V. Threats to Liberal Democracy A. Threats to Liberalism I use the term liberalism in the sense that John Stuart Mill ([1859]1939) used it – the liberty to do, think, and say what one wants so long as the exercise of such a liberty does not cause undue harm to others. The latter qualification is necessary to distinguish actions that cause significant harm – like

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Liberal Democracy

running over someone with an automobile – from those that cause modest harm, such as brushing against someone as one exits a bus. Until recently, most restrictions on liberty have been justified in cases in which the harm to others from an action was physical. Free speech can be curtailed if it incites others to riot, or even to a panicked exit from a crowded theater. More recently, however, basic freedoms have come under attack when their exercise is perceived to cause psychological harm. Someone contemplates the suffering of a cow when it is slaughtered, and demands that the practice be stopped. A comedian tells an ethnic joke and is sued by members of the ethnic group who claim grave psychological pain upon hearing the joke. Although it is fairly easy to determine whether or not someone has been physically harmed, psychological suffering is difficult to measure. The increasing tendency to invoke psychological harms to curb the exercise of traditional freedoms constitutes one of the greatest threats to liberalism today. These threats come from all corners of society, from intellectuals on the left to religious fanatics on the right. A remarkable example of the former was the pressure exerted by the Harvard faculty to remove the president of the university a few years ago, because he had dared to speculate that the under-representation of women in the natural sciences might be caused by genetically determined differences in brain structures between men and women. An equally remarkable example of an attack on liberalism – this time coming from the Religious Right – was the widespread rioting that occurred following the publication of cartoons featuring the Prophet Mohammed in a Danish newspaper. Both the Harvard professors who voted to oust their president and the Muslims who rioted and killed in anger over the cartoons agreed that there are some questions that cannot be posed and things that cannot be said simply because others find them upsetting. The rise of liberalism in the nineteenth century built on Enlightenment thinking of the eighteenth century, which was stimulated by the Scientific Revolution of the seventeenth century. The Scientific Revolution was driven by the willingness of people like Galileo and Newton to question the conventional wisdom of their day. During the Enlightenment every dogma and institution could be questioned, from the divine right of kings to the authority of the Church. Even God’s existence was questioned. Many people were offended by the impertinence of Enlightenment thinkers to question the authority of the state and Church, to challenge the institution of slavery, and to advocate equal rights for women. Yet it was through these questions and challenges that our liberal democratic institutions arose. Once we

V. Threats to Liberal Democracy

19

begin to forbid the asking of certain questions and other acts of free speech because they offend some groups, we risk repudiating the very principles on which a liberal democracy must rest.

B. Threats to Democracy Tocqueville placed great importance on the role that New England town meetings played in America’s democratic system, and how participation in these meetings developed the knowledge and virtue needed for good citizenship. . . . municipal institutions constitute the strength of free nations. Town meetings are to liberty what primary schools are to science; they bring it within the people’s reach, they teach men how to use and how to enjoy it. A nation may establish a free government, but without municipal institutions it cannot have the spirit of liberty. (de Tocqueville, [1835]1945, p. 63)

During the nineteenth century, most of the state’s activity that was important to Americans was decided at the local level. Even as late as 1929, total federal expenditures accounted for only 3 percent of national income, and barely 40 percent of state and local expenditures. Today, the relative sizes of the federal and state and local sectors are reversed.23 This shifting of economic activity from state and local levels to the federal level has reduced the ability of citizens to control their government. Moreover, it has shifted the work of government from the most trusted level – the local level – to the least trusted level.24 With the notable exception of Switzerland, things are worse in Europe. Here local governments typically have little taxation and expenditure authority. Although former House Majority Leader Tip O’Neill’s remark that “all politics is local” was an exaggeration, it certainly applies more to the United States than to most European countries. In Europe, it is more accurate to say that “all politics is national,” and increasingly multinational as the European Union (EU) takes on more responsibilities from its members. The result is a so-called democratic deficit at both the EU and the member states’ levels. The danger of this happening was recognized by the perceptive de Tocqueville. Although he saw the basic equality of the early colonists in America 23 24

See Economic Report of the President, 1985, tables B-1 and B-82, and 2007 table B-82. See Matsusaka (2004, ch. 6).

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as an important contributor to the development of democracy,25 he also believed: . . . that it is easier to establish an absolute and despotic government among a people in which the conditions of society are equal than among any other; and I think that if such a government were once established among such a people, it not only would oppress men, but would eventually strip each of them of several of the highest qualities of humanity. Despotism, therefore, appears to me peculiarly to be dreaded in democratic times. I should have loved freedom, I believe, at all times, but in the time in which we live I am ready to worship it. (de Tocqueville, [1840]1945, p. 340)

It is worth quoting de Tocqueville’s description and analysis of democratic despotism at length. The first thing that strikes the observation is an innumerable multitude of men, all equal and alike, incessantly endeavoring to procure the petty and paltry pleasures with which they glut their lives. Each of them, living apart, is as a stranger to the fate of all the rest; his children and his private friends constitute to him the whole of mankind. As for the rest of his fellow citizens, he is close to them, but does not see them; he touches them, but he does not feel them; he exists only in himself and for himself alone; and if his kindred still remain to him, he may be said at any rate to have lost his country. Above this race of men stands an immense and tutelary power, which takes upon itself alone to secure their gratifications and to watch over their fate. That power is absolute, minute, regular, provident, and mild. It would be like the authority of a parent if, like that authority, its object was to prepare men for manhood; but it seeks, on the contrary, to keep them in perpetual childhood: it is well content that the people should rejoice, provided they think of nothing but rejoicing. For their happiness such a government willingly labors, but it chooses to be the sole agent and the only arbiter of that happiness; it provides for their security, foresees and supplies their necessities, facilitates their pleasures, manages their principal concerns, directs their industry, regulates the descent of property, and subdivides their inheritances: what remains, but to spare them all the care of thinking and all the trouble of living? Thus it every day renders the exercise of the free agency of man less useful and less frequent; it circumscribes the will within a narrower range and gradually robs a man of all the uses of himself. The principle of equality has prepared men for these things; it has predisposed men to endure them and often to look on them as benefits. After having thus successively taken each member of the community in its powerful grasp and fashioned him at will, the supreme power then extends its arm over the whole community. It covers the surface of society with a network of small complicated rules, minute and uniform, through which the most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot penetrate, to rise above the crowd. The will of man is not shattered, but softened, bent, and guided; men are seldom forced by it to act, but they are constantly restrained from acting. Such a power does not destroy, but it 25

Tocqueville ([1835]1945, vol. 1, pp. 48–56).

V. Threats to Liberal Democracy

21

prevents existence; it does not tyrannize, but it compresses, enervates, extinguishes, and stupefies a people, till each nation is reduced to nothing better than a flock of timid and industrious animals, of which the government is the shepherd. Our contemporaries are constantly excited by two conflicting passions: they want to be led, and they wish to remain free. As they cannot destroy either the one or the other of these contrary propensities, they strive to satisfy them both at once. They devise a sole, tutelary, and all-powerful form of government, but elected by the people. They combine the principle of centralization and that of popular sovereignty; this gives them a respite: they console themselves for being in tutelage by the reflection that they have chosen their own guardians. Every man allows himself to be put in leading-strings, because he sees that it is not a person or a class of persons, but the people at large who hold the end of his chain. By this system the people shake off their state of dependence just long enough to select their master and then relapse into it again. A great many persons at the present day are quite contented with this sort of compromise between administrative despotism and the sovereignty of the people; and they think they have done enough for the protection of individual freedom when they have surrendered it to the power of the nation at large. (de Tocqueville, [1840]1945, pp. 336–8)

What European can disagree that his or her government treats him or her like a child when it comes to deciding whether to smoke, what to drink or eat, the content of television commercials, and in countless other ways? The extent to which democratic despotism exists in Europe was dramatically revealed by the chain of events surrounding the writing and adoption of a constitution for the European Union. The delegates to the drafting convention were selected by the political elites in each member state and in Brussels. Few citizens even knew the names of their delegates, and few followed the deliberations of the convention. The document the convention produced ran to an unwieldy 350 pages and obviously was not intended to be something that the average EU citizen would ever read, let alone understand and identify with. Despite the fact that citizens had little if any input into its drafting, most member-state governments also decided not to involve their citizens in the constitution’s ratification. In de Tocqueville’s words, they chose “to spare them all the care of thinking” about the constitution. However, the political leaders of France and the Netherlands made the mistake of asking their citizens to ratify the constitution. When they refused to do so, the EU’s political elite was temporarily put into a self-defined crisis. The EU locomotive was in danger of derailment. EU leaders had essentially three options: (1) scrap the constitution and forge ahead with the existing rules from previous treaties, (2) undertake a major redrafting of the constitution and create a much shorter and easier-to-understand document that would be approved by EU citizens, or (3) make modest alterations to the constitution, rename it a

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treaty, and adopt it without placing it before EU citizens. Naturally, EU leaders chose the third option. Ironically, one of the draft constitution’s major weaknesses – its length and complexity – now became a virtue. As Giuliano Amato, a vice-chairman of the constitutional convention, put it, “Look, you see, it’s absolutely unreadable, it’s a typical Brussels treaty, nothing new, no need for a referendum.”26 One can be sure that the EU’s political elite will never again ask its children citizens to think about something as important as a constitution for the European Union. The European Union is an extreme form of the democratic despotism that de Tocqueville feared. “The network of small complicated rules, minute and uniform” flowing out of Brussels is woven by a body of unelected commissioners. The most powerful voting body in the EU is the Council in which member states are represented. However, the election of its delegates is based on their positions and records on national issues, not on the basis of policy proposals at the EU level. Few EU policy issues ever figure in national elections; no EU policy issue has ever been the subject of simultaneous political debate across the whole EU. The ratification of the constitution was a golden opportunity to hold such a debate, but most member-state governments chose not to take such a risk. Despite the constitutional convention having been convened with the intent of closing “the democratic deficit” in the EU, the procedure by which it was written, its rejection by citizens of two founding member countries, and the subsequent sleight of hand to implement the constitution/treaty without the approval of EU citizens has produced an even wider and more apparent democratic deficit than ever before.27 When citizens do not exercise their civic obligations responsibly, democratic despotism may slide into undemocratic despotism. Here again, de Tocqueville exhibited an almost uncanny ability to predict the future. There is indeed, a most dangerous passage in the history of a democratic people. When the taste for physical gratifications among them has grown more rapidly than their education and their experience of free institutions, the time will come when men are carried away and lose all self-restraint at the sight of the new possessions they are about to obtain. . . . As the citizens who labor do not care to attend to public affairs, and as the class which might devote its leisure to these duties has ceased to exist, the place of the government is, as it were, unfilled. If at that critical moment some able and ambitious man grasps the supreme power, he will find the road to every kind of usurpation open before him. If he attends for some time only to the material prosperity of the country, 26 27

Economist, August 11, 2007. Ireland has rejected the treaty in a referendum, so it still might not take effect, although many politicians from other countries would prefer having the treaty and kicking Ireland out of the European Union to not having it.

VI. A Clash Between What and What?

23

no more will be demanded of him. Above all, he must ensure public tranquillity: men who are possessed by the passion for physical gratification generally find out that the turmoil of freedom disturbs their welfare before they discover how freedom itself serves to promote it. If the slightest rumor of public commotion intrudes into the petty pleasures of private life, they are aroused and alarmed by it. The fear of anarchy perpetually haunts them, and they are always ready to fling away their freedom at the first disturbance. (de Tocqueville, [1840]1945, pp. 336–8)

This passage recollects Germany in the early 1930s, where citizens watched their constitution be violated and democracy destroyed, but accepted these developments in exchange for improving economic conditions. It makes one think of Putin in Russia and Chavez in Venezuela, who both remained immensely popular despite their attacks on democracy, because of the relative economic stability and prosperity that rising energy prices brought to their countries. In addition, it also brings to mind that “ambitious man,” George W. Bush, who seized the “critical moment” following September 11, 2001, to greatly expand the powers of the presidency and limit the freedoms of U.S. citizens, but did not pay a political price, because a majority of Americans thought that they were trading their freedoms for security against terrorism. Democracy means rule by the people, and the quality of a democracy depends on the quality of its citizens – their knowledge of public issues, their willingness to participate actively in the political process and, if need be, to risk their lives and freedom to defend its institutions. Occasionally casting ballots is not enough.

VI. A Clash Between What and What? Several recent books have themes related to this book. Perhaps the most influential, and certainly the most discussed, is Samuel Huntington’s The Clash of Civilizations (1996). Huntington sees conflict between Western countries with their liberal democratic institutions and scientific orientation and several competing and often hostile civilizations – Orthodox Christian, Latin American, traditionalist (Sub-Saharan Africa), Hindu, Sinic (countries with large Chinese populations like Taiwan and Singapore, or those influenced by its culture like Korea and Vietnam), Japan, and Buddhist countries. The greatest threat to Western countries and civilization is perceived to come from the Sinic culture, especially China with its rapid economic growth and growing political influence, and the Muslim countries. Anthony Pagden (2008) reduces the conflict to a struggle between the West and the East, a struggle dating back to Athens’ wars with the Persians. Pagden describes how the West was able to shed its superstitions and

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irrational beliefs and emerge as the highly science-oriented, liberal democracies that exist today, whereas countries in the East have failed to join the Scientific Revolution and continue to be despotisms in the mold of ancient Persia, entrapped by their superstitious beliefs. Although there is much in common between these two theses and the arguments in this book, I emphasize the clash between modernism or progressivism and traditionalism. This conflict is not only a cross-border battle between the United States, Europe, and a few more Western countries on one side, and China or Iran and their fellow Eastern despotisms on the other. The conflict is also taking place within both the West and the East. In virtually every country, modernists can be found who champion scientific progress and liberal, democratic values. Opposed to modernity are traditionalists whose beliefs and values are shaped by religion. In some countries, like the United States, the traditionalists are extremist Christians; in others, extremist Muslims, Hindus, Jews, or Buddhists. In many African countries, the traditionalists are a mixture of followers of local religions and customs, like voodooism, Christianity, and Islam. Thus, the clash between modernity and traditionalism is much more pervasive than some recent studies might lead one to believe, and thus more troubling. Although traditionalism can encompass many beliefs that are not religious, religion is typically a central component of any traditionalist society. Religion is thus an obstacle to progressivism and modernity. The rise of religious extremism in recent years has brought forth several books attacking religious thinking, most notably perhaps, Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion (2006), and Christopher Hitchens’ God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (2007). These books focus on the nonscientific aspects of religion, and thus its opposition to modernity and progress in the form of scientific progress. While I too am critical of this aspect of religion, my focus is much more on how religion, in its extremist form, poses a threat to liberal democracy. Among the recent books dealing with religion, John Gray’s Black Mass (2007) is probably closest to this book in subject matter, but in many ways is its antithesis. Where I emphasize the importance of Enlightenment thinking in paving the way for liberal democracy in Europe, North America, and other former British colonies, Gray blames the Enlightenment for communism and Nazism.28 According to Gray, “the Enlightenment project [was to remake] society on an ideal model.”29 Liberal democracy in Gray’s hands 28 29

See especially Gray (2007, ch. 2). Gray (2007, p. 33).

VII. Plan of the Book

25

becomes a utopian dream propagated by Enlightenment thinkers. This misreads several important aspects of history. First, as discussed in Chapter 8, it is misleading to speak of an Enlightenment project because Enlightenment thinkers differed greatly in their ideas about reforms. Second, if European Enlightenment thinkers had a project at all, it was to enlighten European monarchs, not to introduce democracy. The most notable European advocate of democracy during the eighteenth century was Rousseau, but he opposed the Enlightenment and is better regarded as an early Romantic. It was American Enlightenment thinkers – Jefferson, Madison, Franklin, and so on – who forged the link between Enlightenment ideas and democracy. However, they were far from being utopians. Indeed, they were well aware of the human weaknesses upon which Gray places so much weight. The whole purpose of the famous checks-and-balance elements in the U.S. Constitution is to protect its democratic institutions from these human weaknesses. Switzerland is not utopia, but it is a nice place to live. However, it did not become a nice place by chance. The origins of its democratic institutions stretch back seven centuries to the communes in its mountain valleys. Its constitution dates back to the 1848 Revolution, and reflects Enlightenment thinking in both Europe and the United States. The success and durability of Swiss democracy owes much to its citizens’ commitment to the constitution and to the Enlightenment ideas it embodies. One of the points stressed in this book is that such citizen commitment is essential for liberal democracy to appear and survive. I agree with Gray that the West should not try to force liberal democracy on the rest of the world as the Bush administration attempted to do in the Middle East. Liberal democracy (indeed any form of democracy) may be impossible in Nigeria because of the ethnic, linguistic, and religious diversity of its population. Theocracy may be better suited than liberal democracy to a highly religious country like Iran. China has achieved spectacular growth without democracy. What one can say is that far more people from around the world try to enter – sometimes at great peril – Switzerland, Sweden, the United States, and the other liberal democracies than are fleeing from them to Iran, China, and other countries, which are not liberal democracies. When people vote with their feet, they vote for liberal democracy. This is not a utopian dream, but a statement of fact.

VII. Plan of the Book This book is divided into four parts. Good democratic outcomes require citizens who are intelligent, well informed, and willing to sacrifice some time

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and effort to make democracy work. Given the importance of this condition, Chapter 2 discusses the extent to which humans can be regarded as reasoning beings, and delves into psychology and especially evolutionary psychology to answer this question. Although humans are not the superrational calculating machines that most economists and some other social scientists assume they are, they are capable of behaving rationally, as such behavior is commonly understood. Indeed, the development of the faculty of reasoning is the great, evolutionary achievement of mankind. The power of reasoning is most vividly displayed in the sciences, both natural and social. Human understanding of natural and social phenomena has expanded over time through the formulation and testing of hypotheses about causal relationships and through the application of scientific method to all forms of questions. Science provides one way to understand nature and the universe; religion provides another. Chapter 3 discusses the similarities and differences between science and religion as explanations for natural phenomena. It is these differences that lie at the heart of the distinction between progressivism and traditionalism. Today’s leading scientific theory may be discarded tomorrow, because new evidence contradicts it. New evidence can never contradict “the word of God” as it appears in a religion’s holy book. This distinction constitutes a fundamental difference between modern, progressive societies and traditional ones. Chapters 2 and 3 constitute Part One and form the building blocks for the rest of the book. The book emphasizes the link between human capability to reason and the appearance of both modernism and its political correlate liberal democracy. Part Two provides a selective overview of history from the first appearance of the state in Sumer (Chapter 4) to the first democratic state in Ancient Greece (Chapter 5) to the Caliphate in the Middle East (Chapter 6) and on to the Renaissance and Enlightenment (Chapters 7 and 8). Chapter 9 extends the narrative into the twentieth century. Democracy’s first appearance in Ancient Greece and its reappearance in the Renaissance and Enlightenment were not mere coincidences. Ancient Greece was arguably the world’s first modern state. It shared with the Renaissance a focus on improving and understanding life on this earth rather than focusing on an afterlife, and with the Enlightenment, a great trust and optimism about the human power of reasoning. Throughout history, traditional societies have typically been dictatorships; democracies have had important elements of modernity. Having explored where democracy came from and where it has flourished, we are ready to describe the characteristics of political institutions that are needed to obtain a well-functioning democracy. This is the task of Part Three. Chapter 10 discusses the characteristics of the democratic

VIII. A Caveat

27

institutions that are needed to ensure they serve the goal of advancing the welfare of the citizenry. Given the importance of the majority rule in all modern political systems, it is discussed at length. Chapter 11 defines constitutional rights, describes their characteristics, and discusses their role in a liberal democracy. It then contrasts this notion of constitutional rights with other rights concepts like natural, human, cosmopolitan, and moral rights. Good democracy requires good citizens – good in the sense of being intelligent enough to make wise decisions for the community and conscientious enough to gather sufficient information to make wise choices. No matter how well designed a country’s democratic institutions are, they will not yield desirable outcomes if citizens do not vote intelligently and responsibly. Chapter 12 explores the implication of this observation for the criteria defining citizenship and for the design of their education. Here we confront a tension between the idea that liberalism implies a freedom to educate one’s children as one pleases, and the relationship between the quality and type of education citizens have and the quality of the outcomes of the democratic process. A community that wants its democratic institutions to produce desirable outcomes cannot be indifferent to how its citizens are chosen and educated. The question of choosing a community’s members arises most prominently with regard to immigration policies, and thus these also warrant discussion in Chapter 12. Part Four returns to the issues raised in this chapter and discusses the challenges facing liberal democracy today. Why have so many countries not adopted it? Why has it often failed in developing countries? Why are so many people disenchanted with democracy in the rich, developed countries? Just as traditionalism is the opposite of progressivism, religion is the antithesis of science in a fundamental sense, and theocracy the antithesis of liberal democracy. More generally, a basic tension exists between religion in its more extreme forms and liberal democracy. This tension is described in Chapter 13. The final chapter summarizes the argument for why liberal democracy can fail and reviews the challenges facing it today. To meet these challenges, it argues that developed democracies should complete the Enlightenment’s program of reforms. Developing countries need to adopt it.

VIII. A Caveat I am neither a psychologist nor an historian. Nevertheless, I have placed the questions of progressivism, reasoning, and democracy in a historical

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context, and thus delved into these enormous literatures. In doing so, I hope to have given accurate, if selective, accounts of what is known about each subject. I have quoted directly from my sources to a far greater extent than I usually do, to impress upon the reader that I am reporting the views about the Renaissance or Pope Pius XII of those who have devoted great amounts of time to each subject, and who, based on my limited knowledge of the topic, seem to have the weight of evidence on their side. Some topics – like the pope’s behavior during World War II – are so controversial even today that I am sure that there will be those who violently disagree with me. All I can say in defense is that a reasonable case can be made for the interpretations I present throughout this book.

PART I

FUNDAMENTALS: EVOLUTION, PSYCHOLOGY, REASONING, AND RELIGION

TWO

Evolution, Psychology, and Reason

. . . it is the understanding that sets man above the rest of sensible beings, and gives him all the advantage and dominion which he has over them . . . (John Locke)1 How so many absurd rules of conduct, as well as so many absurd religious beliefs, have originated, we do not know; nor how it is that they have become, in all quarters of the world, so deeply impressed on the minds of men; but it is worthy of remark that a belief constantly inculcated during the early years of life, while the brain is impressionable, appears to acquire almost the nature of an instinct; and the very essence of an instinct is that it is followed independently of reason. Charles Darwin2

This book traces the evolution of a human’s power to reason, and the link between this power and the potential for organizing societies as democracies. It is common today in economics and other branches of the social sciences to assume that individuals are rational actors. Like many assumptions made to simplify scientific modeling, the assumption of individual rationality is only partially accurate. Human psychology is far more complex than rational actor models presume. We begin, therefore, by examining human psychology.

I. Behavioral Psychology Perhaps the simplest of all models of human psychology is that of behavioral psychology or operant behaviorism.3 Operant behaviorism provides a theory of learning that is quite similar to the selfish gene account of natural 1 2 3

Locke (1690a, p. 244); emphasis in original. Darwin (1874, p. 122). Operant behaviorism is the term used to describe the branch of psychology launched by B. F. Skinner. See, Catania and Harnad (1988).

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selection. The theory of natural selection assumes that nature randomly distributes genes across individuals. Those genes that increase fitness and reproductive success are selected over those that do not. Operant behaviorism assumes that individuals randomly undertake actions. Actions followed by rewards increase in frequency; actions followed by punishments decline in frequency. In the one case, the environment selects for genes; in the other, for actions. Operant behaviorism takes the assumption of narrow self-interest, which underlies most of economics, to the extreme. Individuals are pure hedonists seeking rewards and avoiding pains. In this regard, behavioral psychology’s premises are quite compatible with those underlying not only rational actor models but also the philosophies of Hobbes and Bentham. Operant conditioning – rewarding certain actions and punishing others – has been used in laboratories to train rats to push levers, pigeons to peck buttons, and thousands of other animal tricks. The kind of behavior that can be conditioned is partly constrained by our genetic makeup. Pecking comes naturally to pigeons and chickens so they can be conditioned to peck a red button to get seeds or water, but they cannot be trained to push a lever like rats can. Operant conditioning is used in the home to get Rover to sit and fetch the ball, and to get Junior to eat his soup with a spoon and his peas with a fork. We are all creatures of habit committing many actions each day, like smiling and saying hello almost unconsciously to people we meet, because such actions have been rewarded in the past. Operant conditioning relies on a rather primitive cause-and-effect association that animals and people make, often unconsciously. Action A is followed by reward R, and the individual associates the action with the reward and repeats the action. When action A does cause reward R, this behavior is functional and thus accords with what we would expect a rational person to do. Thus, well-conditioned individuals might behave as if they were consciously choosing actions to maximize an objective or utility function, even when they were unconsciously making a conditioned response to stimuli. The well-conditioned consumer buys more of a good at a lower price, because she has been rewarded for such actions in the past. Rats in the laboratory behave as if they were maximizing a utility function that includes water. Rats, like humans, have negative sloped demand curves. The more effort that a rat must expend to obtain a sip of water, the less water it consumes (Staddon, 1983). Correlation does not always imply causation, however, and some actions are followed by rewards that they did not bring about. This possibility explains why some habits are not functional or even harmful. A football

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player unconsciously dons mismatched socks on a day when he scores three goals, and from then on, he consciously chooses to wear mismatched socks. Millions of people consult the horoscope sections of their newspapers everyday to see what the stars have in store for them. On any given day, some will experience the good fortune forecast for them in the morning paper. They will “thank their lucky stars,” and the habit of reading their horoscope will be reinforced and sustained. The pleasure a smoker experiences while smoking a cigarette maintains a habit, which in the long run, is deleterious to the health. The possibility that nonfunctional or even dysfunctional behavior can be conditioned was dramatically revealed in experiments by B. F. Skinner (1948). Pigeons were randomly rewarded with food pellets preceded by a click. Thus, if the pigeon happened to have lifted its left wing when the click occurred, lifting its left wing was reinforced. If it happened to have its right leg raised, then standing on its left leg was reinforced. Skinner was able to induce bizarre behavior in the pigeons by administering random rewards. Thus, operant behaviorism offers a plausible account for much of animal and human behavior. It assumes animals are creatures of habit with habits being formed by past rewards and punishments. Sharon purchases Coca-Cola at the supermarket without weighing carefully its price and the expected satisfaction she will get from it against other cola brands. She has been rewarded for buying Coke in the past by experiencing greater satisfaction from the drink than the money she paid for it. Coke is “her brand,” and she buys it essentially by habit. One of the conundrums for rational-actor models is the prisoners’ dilemma (PD). An example of a PD game is presented in Matrix 2.1. Two farmers live next to one another. If each attends to his own cornfields, the optimal combination of work effort and income from corn sales yields utility payoffs to each of ten (box 1). If farmer R, the row player, devotes some of his time to stealing from farmer C, however, he can obtain more corn than by devoting the same time to his own field. His utility rises to thirteen, assuming farmer C continues to devote the same effort to his field. Farmer C’s utility payoff falls to six, however, because he loses some of his corn to R (box 2). If C steals and R does not steal, the utility payoffs are reversed (box 3). When they both steal, each experiences a utility payoff of only seven (box 4). Thus, both are worse off if they steal; nevertheless, stealing is the dominant strategy for both farmers – each experiences a higher utility payoff if he steals independently of the strategy choice of the other farmer (thirteen instead of ten, seven instead of six). Thus, the prisoners’ dilemma leads to the paradoxical outcome that independently rational behavior produces

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Evolution, Psychology, and Reason Matrix 2.1. A prisoner’s dilemma game Farmer C Does not steal

Farmer R

Does not steal Steals

Steals

1 10

3 10

6

6

7

2 13

13 4 7

a collective outcome that is worse for both parties than another feasible outcome. One example of a PD game is voluntary contributions to provide a public good. All members of the community would benefit from a new bridge, but if one tried to finance it by relying on users voluntarily tossing money into baskets at each end, everyone has an incentive to drive by and toss in nothing. Numerous experiments have been conducted to see in fact whether people do not contribute – free ride – in one-shot PD games.4 Each participant is given, $10 say, to contribute to the provision of a hypothetical public good. At the end of the game, each player receives half of 150 percent of the total contribution plus what she did not contribute. Thus, if both participants contribute the full $10, each receives $15. On the other hand, if one player contributed $10 and the other nothing, the free rider would receive $17.50. Thus, both should contribute nothing if they are rationally maximizing their payoffs, yet experiment after experiment has shown that while some people do contribute nothing, others contribute the full $10, and still others contribute something in between.5 Such everyday actions as voting or buying stocks and insurance often also seem to violate basic predictions of rational actor models. Operant behaviorism can explain why many people cooperate in PD situations. If people have been rewarded for cooperative behavior in the past – by their parents, teachers, or peers – cooperating by not stealing when an opportunity presents itself (by voting or contributing to charities) may occur because people do not carefully weigh the benefits and costs of 4 5

When a PD game is repeated indefinitely, cooperation can become an individually optimal strategy if it induces the other player to cooperate. See, surveys of experimental literature by Davis and Holt (1993), Roth (1995), Ledyard (1995), Ostrom and Walker (1997), and Hoffman (1997).

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such actions. They cooperate out of habit. The most successful way to induce an opposing player to cooperate in a repeated PD appears to be to adopt the “tit-for-tat” strategy – reward cooperation in one period by cooperating in the next; punish noncooperation in one period by not cooperating in the next (Axelrod, 1984). The tit-for-tat strategy might have been developed in one of B. F. Skinner’s laboratories.

II. Cognitive Psychology Operant behaviorism does not explain all actions. When one confronts a grizzly bear in the woods, turning and running is generally not a good strategy for staying alive. Indeed, there is no sure strategy for accomplishing this end, but standing one’s ground and staring down the bear is more likely to get it to walk away than turning and running. Yet how would the first person who confronted a grizzly have known to stand his ground rather than run? Many actions that individuals undertake appear not to be because of past rewards for similar actions, but because of a reasoning process in which the actor foresees the consequences of the action. An individual will learn not to hold her hand in a fire the first time she does so. Yet how does she know to run or move her camp when she sees smoke from a distant brush fire? She deduces that the smoke is caused by a large fire, that the wind is blowing the fire in her direction, and that she had better move if she wishes to escape the flames. Humans appear capable of far more complex cognitive processes than presumed under the operant behavioral model.

III. Evolutionary Psychology The most dramatic difference between humans and other animals – even other primates – is the large size of the human brain. “The brain is a biological organ just like the pancreas, the liver, or any other specialized organ,”6 and like these other organs, it has evolved to serve specific functions. Its main function is to process information that could be used to help humans survive during the Pleistocene.7 It owes its size to the fact that during its evolution, it has added one functional capacity to another – the ability to see and recognize depth of field, the ability to sense danger (approaching a precipice, a snake), the ability to recognize faces, the ability 6 7

Ramachandran (1990, p. 24). Tooby and Cosmides (1992, p. 66).

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to imitate and learn from others, and numerous others.8 Thus, both its size and the way in which it functions are the products of natural selection. The two psychological processes discussed previously take place in different parts of the brain and are related to different stages of the brain’s evolutionary development. The striatem, near the brain’s core, and the brainstem are early developments in the brain’s evolution, and their basic structure is common to other animals. These portions of the brain are responsible for the conditioned responses that characterize operant behaviorism. Deliberative thought and abstract reasoning, on the other hand, appear to take place in the prefrontal cortex, the outer portion of the brain that developed late in the evolution of Homo sapiens.9

A. Understanding Causality An extremely important cognitive development was the ability to understand complex causal relationships and to generalize about them. The advantages for survival from understanding causality are obvious. The first person who stuck a stick into a cactus and obtained water must have been quite surprised. Piercing cacti to obtain water would be positively reinforced, and beneficial for survival. Yet so too would the capacity to generalize and deduce that if cacti contain liquids, so too probably other plants and trees, and that some of these might also be tapped and put to good use. This capacity to generalize is common to all humans and exists even in very young children. Once we see that one cactus contains water, we infer that all cacti contain water. We assume that the insides of all pigeons look the same, even though we do not have a good idea of how they actually look.10 Of particular importance is our ability to generalize about the behavior of animals and other humans. Once we are told that an aardvark is an animal, we know that it is alive and has offspring, even though we may not know whether it has its offspring by laying eggs or through live births. Moreover, the fact that it is an animal tells us that it is an intentional being. It will search for food, avoid danger, and mate as other animals do. When we observe animals, we unconsciously infer what they are thinking and what their motivation is. When we see a lion running toward a gazelle, we infer that it is hungry, and that it intends to kill and eat the gazelle. When we see 8 9 10

See, Tooby and Cosmides (1992, p. 113) and Pinker (1997, pp. 183–4, 193–4). See, Cohen (2005, pp. 8–10), and Camerer, Loewenstein, and Prelec (2005, pp. 15–23), and references therein. This discussion draws on Boyer (2001).

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the gazelle run away from the lion, we infer that it knows the lion is coming after it, and that it is in grave danger. Similar processes of inference occur in our dealings with other people. To get along in a tribal community, early humans had to infer the intentions of their fellow tribesmen, and predict their reactions to different actions. Will X get angry if I borrow his ax without asking him? Will he attack me? Will he attack me if I sleep with his mate? Will she tell him if I sleep with her? To help us answer these questions, our brains have evolved processes for predicting the behavior of other humans. Perhaps most important of all, is our ability to recognize faces. It is easier to predict the behavior of someone if we recognize that we have had past dealings with this person and can recall her past behavior. Humans are also adept at reading faces. Human facial expressions for anger, sorrow, surprise, and other emotions are similar in all human groups. A European can identify these emotions when seeing pictures of facial expressions of Amazon tribe members, just as the tribe members can identify emotions when looking at pictures of Europeans.11 Another great aid in our reasoning process is our ability to have decoupled or separate thoughts. We can imagine being somewhere else at another time, other people being with us, and even imagine being someone else.12 The ability to have decoupled thoughts allows us to make plans. I can imagine what will happen if I go hunting tomorrow on the other side of the river, what will happen if X goes with me, what X will do if we meet a pride of lions, what I should do. Again this reasoning process is greatly aided by my intuitive knowledge of lions as animals and X as a human, and if I know X well, by my person-specific knowledge of him.

B. Inducing Cooperation Cooperation in hunting large animals or fighting other tribes would obviously have increased our ancestors’ chances for success and survival. Activities such as hunting and fishing take on the form of a prisoners’ dilemma; my chances of survival increase if my tribe defeats the neighboring tribe in battle. However, they are even higher if I can somehow avoid having to participate in the battle. Cooperation among tribe members was so important for survival during the Pleistocene that we have inherited genetic dispositions to several modes of behavior that strengthen cooperation. Sometimes, 11 12

Pinker (1997, pp. 365–6, 414–16). Boyer (2001, ch. 3).

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however, they may seem “irrational.”13 Here are two of these so-called irrational characteristics: 1. A propensity to cooperate. One explanation for the seemingly irrational propensity for people to cooperate in one-shot PD games is that the two players perceive that they are in a social situation in which cooperation benefits the group, and that they have a genetically inherited propensity to cooperate in such situations. Repetition of the game can condition a player not to cooperate, but an individual’s first instinctive reaction is to cooperate.14 Voting is another action that is seemingly irrational from an individual point of view. Many people say they vote out of a sense of civic duty or because it is ethically the “right thing to do.”15 Thus, voting may also be partly engendered by our genetic makeup. 2. A disposition to punish cheaters. One way to ensure cooperation in a group is to punish defectors severely. Here again, humans seem to have a genetic disposition to detect and punish defectors and to punish those who do not punish defectors. People in a long line to get tickets or exit a highway feel an instant sense of rage when someone cuts ahead of them. During the gasoline crisis of the 1970s in the United States, there were long lines to get gas, and some line cutters were even shot and killed by irate drivers further back in the line. Unfortunately, not all of the mental processes that aid survival on the African savanna have positive value in a twenty-first-century, postindustrial society. If a pickpocket takes your wallet and you detect it, an instinctive reaction is irate rage. Many people will give chase to the pickpocket and risk their lives from a heart attack or a knife wound, even though the financial loss from the theft is rather modest. “It’s not the money, but the principle of the thing” is often heard. Having one’s pocket picked or apartment burgled sets off a violent reaction in most people. They feel personally violated, and often react violently – they often overreact. 13 14

15

See, Dawkins ([1976]1989), Axelrod (1984), Trivers (1985), Tooby and Cosmides (1992), Pinker (1997, pp. 502–6), and Boyer (2001). See, again references in footnote 3. Paul Rubin (2002, ch. 3) reviews the evidence on the genetic causes for cooperation. Field (2001) reviews the evidence that cooperation and other behaviors that favor group survival are selected for at the group level. See, discussion and references in Mueller (2003, ch. 14).

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For people living on the edge of survival, theft can be very costly. The loss of a bit of food may be the difference between life and death. Violent reactions to theft, to free riding, and to other forms of noncooperative people might well deter such behavior and increase survival chances. Such instinctive and uncontrollable reactions are likely to be genetically triggered.16

C. Group Loyalty A willingness to fight, kill, and if need be die for one’s tribe would have increased the probabilities of the tribe’s success in battle with other tribes and of the survival of its members. Loyalty to one’s own tribe and animosity toward other tribes is also genetically determined in part.17 Of course, before one can defend fellow tribe members one must be able to recognize who they are. This would have been easy fifty thousand years ago, but is less so in our polyglot societies of today. Race is an obvious clue, as are language and religion, and history is replete with social conflicts and wars over race, language, and religion. Yet even more subtle differences can lead to strife. Dividing boys at a summer camp into two groups for the purpose of sports and other activities can lead to animosity and violent confrontations between those who were arbitrarily assigned red jerseys and those assigned blue. Even separating people by a coin flip can lead to strong loyalties among “the heads.”18 During the Pleistocene, our ancestors lived in constant danger of death from predators or attacks from other tribes. Today, most people in developed countries do not face such dangers. In times of war, however, those chosen to fight are in the same kind of life-and-death situation as their Pleistocene ancestors. During a war, it is common for one side to view the other as inferior or subhuman in some way, and to refer to them using pejorative names – “gooks,” “Japs,” “krauts.” Some soldiers commit horrible atrocities during wars. Indeed, the same soldiers who undertake heroic acts to save their buddies may commit horrendous acts against the enemy. On March 16, 1968, for example, American soldiers in My Lai, Vietnam, opened fire on unarmed villagers and killed hundreds of men, women, and children. Similar atrocities, although on a lesser scale, have been reported during the war in Iraq. On such occasions, the offending troops appear “to go berserk.” Such behavior is easier to understand (although not excuse) if one recognizes 16 17 18

See Trivers (1971, 1985) and Pinker (1997, pp. 404–5). Pinker (1997, ch. 7, esp. pp. 513–17). See discussion and references in Pinker (1997, pp. 513–17).

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that these soldiers have probably subconsciously come to believe that the people they are killing are inferior or subhuman to them in some sense. Numerous examples exist of people living peacefully together for many years and then some event divides them into separate groups, and they begin to hate and attack one another. One such event was the partition of the Indian subcontinent in 1947 along religious lines into India and Pakistan. Until then, Hindus and Muslims had lived relatively peacefully together on the Indian subcontinent. The partition was, in part, a response to the wishes of Muslims like the poet and philosopher Mohammad Iqbal. He feared that Islam would not survive on the subcontinent once India became an independent nation if Hindus and Muslims continued to live together. There were just too many Hindus relative to Muslims. The partition succeeded in preserving Islam, but not without considerable cost. The mass migrations needed to separate the two religious communities were accompanied by much violence and murder with estimates of lives lost ranging to two million. The partition produced new senses of identity, which now combined religion and nationalism, and fostered suspicion and animosity between Indians and Pakistanis. The countries have gone to war several times since the partition, and occasional acts of terrorism continue to cost many lives. Both countries are now nuclear powers and view one another with a mixture of fear and hatred.19 Roger Peterson (2002) presents a series of case studies of ethnic violence in Eastern Europe. One involves Jews and Lithuanians. After World War I, Lithuania broke away from Russia, and Jews and Lithuanians at first worked together to establish an independent Lithuania. Gradually, however, the Lithuanians asserted themselves and the Jews became a lower status minority. In 1940, the Russians occupied Lithuania. During the occupation, the Russians placed several Jews in positions in the local government, and the Jews rose in status in both their own eyes and those of the Lithuanians. When the Russians withdrew June 1941, Lithuania was thrown into a state of anarchy for several days until the Germans arrived and established order. During this period, the Lithuanians launched a pogrom (Yiddish for destruction) against the Jews, making them do demeaning tasks like cleanup manure with their bare hands and then beating them to death. Although Jews and Lithuanians had lived together peacefully since the nineteenth century, suddenly a surge of ethnic violence by Lithuanians against the Jews broke out. Peterson (2002, pp. 95–116) attributes this outbreak to the rise in Jews’ status during the Russian occupation, which was greatly resented by Lithuanians. When 19

See the interesting account in Khan (2007).

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the opportunity arose to reverse the situation, the Lithuanians seized it. Resentment aroused by changes in status of different ethnic groups appears to have been a key element in most of the cases Peterson examined. The drive for status also has genetic roots.20 When rapid changes in status are combined with group loyalties, the results can be explosive. Most students of politics are familiar with James Madison’s discussion of the evils of “factions” in Federalist 10. Madison’s analysis was preceded, however, by David Hume. As much as legislators and founders of states ought to be honoured and respected among men, as much ought the founders of sects and factions to be detested and hated; because the influence of faction is directly contrary to that of laws. Factions subvert government, render laws impotent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of the same nation, who ought to give mutual assistance and protection to each other. And what should render the founders of parties more odious is, the difficulty of extirpating these weeds, when once they have taken root in any state. (Hume, 1742, Part I, Essay VIII, “Of Parties in General”)21

Hume goes on to say that Factions may be divided into PERSONAL and REAL; that is, into factions, founded on personal friendship or animosity among such as compose the contending parties, and into those founded on some real difference of sentiment or interest. (Hume, 1742, Part I, Essay VIII, “Of Parties in General”)22

As examples of factions based on personal differences, Hume cited “the remarkable dissension between two [Roman] tribes, the POLLIA and PAPIRIA, which continued for the space of near three hundred years (p. 57),” and “the civil wars which arose some few years ago in MOROCCO, between the blacks and whites, merely on account of their complexion . . . ” (p. 59, emphasis in original). Anticipating experiments conducted more than two hundred years later, Hume noted, When men are once enlisted on opposite sides, they contract an affection to the persons with whom they are united, and an animosity against their antagonists: And these passions they often transmit to their prosperity. (Hume, 1742, Part I, Essay VIII, “Of Parties in General”)23 20 21 22 23

Pinker (1997, pp. 493–502). See, http://oll.libertyfund.org/index.php?option=com staticxt&staticfile=show.php% 3Ftitle=704&chapter=137476&layout=html. See, http://oll.libertyfund.org/index.php?option=com staticxt&staticfile=show.php% 3Ftitle=704&chapter=137476&layout=html. See, http://oll.libertyfund.org/index.php?option=com staticxt&staticfile=show.php% 3Ftitle=704&chapter=137476&layout=html.

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One of the themes emphasized in this book is the potential cost to democratic communities from heterogeneity that triggers feelings of group identity and fosters group animosities. In addition to psychological identification to a group, Hume listed the following passions to which humans are susceptible: “the intolerant adherence to abstract principle, inherited animosity, love of imitation, psychological infatuation with a leader . . . craving for approval, anger, envy, fear, grief, shame, depression, melancholy, and anxiety.”24 Virtually every item on this list is likely to be genetically driven in part.

D. A Sense of Fairness In the ultimatum game, player X is given $10, say, and can offer part of it to player Y. If Y accepts the offer, Y gets the amount that X offered, and X keeps the rest. If Y rejects the offer, both get nothing. Usually, the two players are separated and unknown to one another. Narrow self-interest should lead X to offer Y a token amount – say $1 – and Y to accept it, because $1 is better than nothing. Typically, however, Xs make more generous offers, and Ys routinely reject offers of less than $3 or $4. Why? Note that the explanation cannot be one of altruism, because Y might be richer than X for all that X knows. One possible explanation is that both players have a sense of fairness. X knows that he obtained the right to make the offer merely by chance, and this leads him to be more generous than is selfishly optimal. Y’s sense of fairness leads her to punish unfairness even though it costs her something. A sense of fairness is likely to have developed genetically. Tribal members engage in many forms of exchange. Each comes to expect something of roughly equal value in an exchange. If a tribe member shares his catch with another member on a day when the latter has not had success in hunting, the first tribe member expects to share the catch of the second when their situations are reversed. If the Webers invite the Schmidts to dinner, the Schmidts feel that they “owe” the Webers a dinner. If X buys you a lunch, you feel that you owe X a lunch. Buying X a lunch because he gave you a BMW will not be seen as fair by either you or X. Once again, reactions to being treated unfairly can often be quite violent. Our genetic heritage can thus be regarded as somewhat of a mixed bag. On the positive side, we have our evolved big brains and cognitive abilities. We are capable of reasoning in a manner that would justify the assumptions 24

I have taken this list from Holmes (1995, p. 55), who cites several of Hume’s works from which the list was drawn.

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of rational actor models, and the accumulated miracles of science attest to the scope of these abilities. Furthermore, we could add our innate tendencies to cooperate and behave altruistically. However, our genetic baggage also has its darker, more problematic side. Our group loyalties, cravings for approval, love of imitation, and infatuation with leaders make us prone to racist and bigoted behaviour. It makes us willing to follow a leader who tells us that we are better than others and to march off into war to prove our superiority. As Stephen Holmes (1995) has stressed, much writing by philosophers and social scientists – not to mention novelists, playwrights, and poets – has been concerned with the problem of constraining the irrational, destructive, and even self- destructive emotions of individuals.25 The challenge humans face today is the same one that they have always faced – how to harness the creative powers of the brain to make our lives better, while avoiding the self-destructive impulses that we all share.

IV. The Evolution of Human Psychology This book stresses the importance of the evolution of human cognitive capabilities for the development of democratic institutions. It will be useful for the later discussions to review how these cognitive powers have evolved. Merlin Donald (1991) describes this evolutionary process at some length. He sees the evolution of “the modern mind” as going through four stages: episodic culture, mimetic culture, mythic culture, and theoretic culture.

A. Episodic Culture All primates, including humans, live in groups. To survive, they must learn when a particular action is likely to bring forth hostile responses by other members of the group and when it will bring forth friendly responses; which chimpanzees will reciprocate acts of grooming and which will not; what the male hierarchy is. Migratory groups would have to learn when certain trees would bear fruit and when water holes would be dry. Donald (1991, ch. 5) calls the capability to recognize and respond to these situational clues episodic culture. Both birds and mammals have these capabilities, and they are most highly developed in the great apes. The learning process that characterizes episodic culture is well-characterized by behavioral psychology. Animals respond to stimuli and learn 25

See, also, Hirschman (1977).

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which actions will be rewarded and which will be punished. The advantages of this kind of knowledge for survival are obvious. Some human behavior resembles that of the great apes and can be classified as part of the episodic culture. Characteristics that are useful for survival do not disappear as a species evolves; they are complemented by additional useful characteristics. Humans evolved beyond the stage of apes by acquiring greater cognitive powers.

B. Mimetic Culture Prior to the invention of language, humans appear to have communicated with one another by acting out their thoughts. Donald refers to this as mimetic skill. Mimetic skill or mimesis rests on the ability to produce conscious, self-initiated, representational acts that are intentional but not linguistic. These mimetic acts are defined primarily in terms of their representational function . . . mimesis is fundamentally different from imitation and mimicry in that it involves the invention of intentional representations. When there is an audience to interpret the action, mimesis also serves the purpose of communication. However, mimesis may simply represent the event to oneself, for the purpose of rehearsing and refining a skill . . . (Donald, 1991, pp. 168–9, emphasis in original)

Mimetic culture appears during the period in which Homo erectus lived, starting roughly 1.5 million years ago. Mimesis would have been used to coordinate actions in hunting and fighting with other groups; to teach making fires, huts, weapons, and tools; to teach how to fight and hunt; and in ritual dancing and game playing. Thus, by the end of the period in which Homo erectus lived, his communities would have many of the characteristics that we associate with human society except for an elaborately developed language. Felipe Fern´andez-Armesto (2004) argues forcefully that Homo sapiens cannot be separated from other primates like chimpanzees and the great apes, because they too make limited use of tools, engage in coordinated activities, and even make various sounds to communicate with one another. Although this is true, the cognitive achievements of Homo sapiens and the complexity of their social structures have far surpassed those of the other primates, making it legitimate to claim that the other primates alive today live largely within an episodic culture.

C. Mythic Culture Somewhere between one hundred thousand years and two hundred thousand years ago, modern humans – Homo sapiens – appeared. They

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possessed several important evolutionary advantages over Homo erectus, the most important being a brain that was on average 20 percent larger, and a supralaryngeal vocal apparatus, which contained a soft palate and a highly flexible tongue. This vocal apparatus differentiated Homo sapiens from both Homo erectus and the Neanderthalers, who existed alongside Homo sapiens until their extinction around thirty-five thousand years ago. Both Homo erectus and the Neanderthalers must have possessed some capabilities for oral communication. Indeed, the selection process that resulted in Homo sapiens must have built on these capabilities. The Neanderthal brain was comparable in size or even slightly larger than that of Homo sapiens, but the shape and positioning of their larynx and other features of their vocal apparatus would have made oral communication much more limited than that of Homo sapiens. This may have been a contributing factor to their extinction.26 Once again, Fern´andez-Armesto (2004) underplays the importance of this difference between the Neanderthals and Homo sapiens. Speech gave humans a tremendous evolutionary advantage over their predecessor Homo erectus. Although Homo erectus had succeeded through the use of mimesis to engage in a great deal of coordinated social activities – hunting, gathering, tool making – speech made “humans . . . better and faster at everything: social coordination, tool manufacture, systemic war, finding and building shelter, gathering and hunting food.”27 The invention of speech was accompanied by many other cognitive developments. Simultaneously with the appearance of speech there appeared a whole constellation of thought skills that are associated with language and are, broadly speaking, linear, analytic, rule-governed, and segmented. Semiotic cultures also triggered completely new forms of information processing and storage: semantic memory, propositional memory, discourse comprehension, analytic thought, induction, and verification, among others. (Donald, 1991, p. 212)

The increasing complexity of social life and the difficulty of expressing complex thoughts through mimesis must have spurred the invention of language. Each word is a symbol for some thing, action, or attribute, and thus the invention of language also entailed the invention of many symbols. “The invention of a symbol requires a capacity for thought,” and their existence extends the boundaries for rational thought.28 The invention of language thus brought with it a great expansion in humans’ capacity to reason. 26 27 28

Lieberman (1975, 1984); Donald (1991, pp. 115–19, 204–8). Donald (1991, p. 210). Donald (1991, p. 219).

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As Mokyr (2002, p. 16) observes, “Curiosity [is] an essential human trait without which no historical theory of useful knowledge makes sense.” Of particular importance for the acquisition of knowledge is curiosity about causal relationships. Within the episodic culture, an understanding of causal relationships could have been acquired through the recognition of sequences of events. Act A is followed by reward R. The expansion of humans’ cognitive powers that accompanied the invention of language expanded their ability to recognize more complex causal relationships. It is natural to assume that every event has a cause. The fire cooks the meat; water extinguishes the fire. When obvious causes such as these are not available, more remote causes must be sought. It is in this way that myths and superstitions first arose in the early Homo sapiens who invented languages. Donald describes the role played by myths for the !Kung of Africa. As in most early religions, their god myths are closely tied to their idea of causality: gods cause pain and death, create life and the heavens, cause rain and thunder. The eland, identified with moon through the creation myth, was also important in the ceremonial celebration of a young girl’s first menstruation, since they knew of the correlation between the duration of the menstrual cycle and the lunar cycle. Their mythical thought, in our terms, might be regarded as a unified, collectively held system of explanatory and regulatory metaphors. The mind has expanded its reach beyond the episodic perception of events, beyond the mimetic reconstruction of episodes, to a comprehensive modeling of the entire human universe. Causal explanation, prediction, control – myth constitutes an attempt at all three, and every aspect of life is permeated by myth. (Donald, 1991, p. 214)

All known hunter-and-gatherer communities possess such myths, and all possess language. An important function of language in early Homo sapiens’ societies was to allow them “to construct conceptual models of the human universe.” Donald (1991, p. 215) claims that this use of language was initially more important than its role in creating new social technologies and organizational structures. So important is the role of myth in the cultures of the first talking humans that Donald names this stage in human development the mythic culture.

D. Theoretic Culture Although all human social groups developed language, only a comparatively few succeeded in inventing writing. Credit for writing’s invention is generally given to the Sumerians who appear to have used written symbols about ten thousand years ago.29 The earliest symbols recorded transactions – numbers 29

Donald (1991, p. 285).

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47

of sheep traded, quantities of wheat and barley stored. Eventually, however, humans learned how to express words and ideas through writing and developed mathematical symbols, geometry, and maps. The advent of writing greatly expanded humans’ capacity to store data and information. Although its invention was not accompanied by any further expansion of the brain’s size, the use of visual symbols required changes in human cognition at least comparable to those accompanying the invention of language.30 Writing also allowed humans to extend the length of a chain of reasoning. When ideas can be written down, each can be examined individually. They can be modified or replaced, supplemented, and their order changed. Such manipulations without the aid of visual representations of ideas are severely limited by the mind’s capacity to retain and recall ideas. Thus, the invention of writing and other means of visual representation allowed humans to expand their ability to reason. Writing facilitated the construction of abstract models of natural phenomena and eventually the development of what we now call scientific method, which is why Donald names this phase in human evolution, the theoretic culture.

V. Learning David Hume emphasized the crucial importance of causal relationships in human understanding and devoted large portions of both An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding and A Treatise of Human Nature to the topic. In the Treatise, we find the following discussion: I find in the first place, that whatever objects are consider’d as causes or effects, are contiguous and that nothing can operate in a time and place, which is ever so little remov’d from those of its existence . . . The second relation I shall observe as essential to causes and effects . . . t’is that of PRIORITY of time in the cause before the effect. (Hume, 1739, Book I, Part III, pp. 75–6)

Hume’s discussion of causality captures the commonsense way in which humans come to understand causality through everyday observations. A rabbit stops eating and runs away. What caused it to run away? Was it the sound made by your stepping on a stick lying on the ground? This action could not have caused the rabbit to run if you were two miles away from it. It could not have caused the rabbit to run if you stepped on the stick after it had already run away. Cultural anthropologists speak of abductive and deductive causal inference. With abductive causal inference, people learn by “putting forward 30

Donald (1991, ch. 8).

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conjectural assumptions that, if true, would account for the data observed.” Thus, abduction resembles scientific induction in the service of explanation. “The main purpose of abduction is to make surprising data unsurprising by positing an assumption, of which the data would be a normal consequence.”31 Deductive inference involves the abstract formulation of hypotheses about causal relationships through which a hypothesis becomes the end product of a logical chain of reasoning. As every good empirical researcher knows, correlation does not always imply causation. Determining when it does is often a difficult and sometimes impossible task. What is difficult for the modern social scientist with a doctorate from a leading university must have been extremely challenging for her ancestors fifty thousand years ago. A few members of a tribe happen across a berry bush that they have never seen before. One eats some of the berries, and dies that night. Surviving tribe members assume that the death was caused by the berries. A taboo against eating these berries arises and no member eats them again. If the bush’s berries are poisonous and the tribe member died from them, then the tribe has made a good inference. If the tribe had been incapable of making this causal inference and continued to eat the poisonous berries, presumably all of its members would have died and it would not constitute part of our ancestry. This example explains why human evolution has been accompanied by an expanded capacity for making correct causal inferences. However, the causal inference in this example may have been incorrect. Perhaps, the berries were harmless or even highly nutritious, and the person died of an unobserved bite from a poisonous spider. The tribe would forego the beneficial effects of the berries because of a false inference. Thus, we can expect that our early ancestors made both correct and false causal inferences, sometimes mistaking spatial and temporal proximity for causation. Taboos and customs evolved that were both functional – that is, based on a correct understanding of a causal relationship, which has beneficial effects for the community – and what I shall call afunctional – based on an incorrect inference about a causal relationship. The tribe commits or refrains from certain actions that have no beneficial or adverse effects on its welfare. It is also possible that mistakes regarding causal relationships are dysfunctional, as would be a taboo on eating the berries if they were nutritious. These examples lead us to expect that the mores, habits, and culture of a particular community will rest on a series of causal inferences about the 31

See, Boyer (1994, pp. 146–7).

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effects of certain actions. Some of these causal inferences will be correct. If so, the community will benefit from prohibiting a certain action or from requiring that it be performed. Other causal inferences will be incorrect but will have no harmful effects on the community other than people will be forbidden to do something that is harmless or required to do something that has no beneficial effects. Finally, there may persist certain habits, customs, and taboos that are positively harmful to the community. People are allowed or required to do things that injure their health or that of others or are prevented from doing things that would benefit them or the community. Scientific progress consists of rejecting false hypotheses and developing new, correct ones and of discarding false causal inferences and retaining correct ones. The adoption of deductive causal inference has greatly accelerated scientific progress. Cultural evolution proceeds in much the same way as science does. As a community learns, it discards its false causal inferences and adds to its stock of correct ones. The accumulation of knowledge of correct causal relationships increases the community’s health and welfare. Cultural evolution as defined here consists in precisely this expanding stock of knowledge concerning correct causal inferences about the environment. Scientific and cultural progress requires that the validity of a particular causal relationship be established. A tribe that bans the eating of a particular berry makes contact with another tribe that eats and enjoys the berry. This leads some members of the first tribe to question whether it was in fact the berry that originally caused the person’s death. One member of the tribe decides to eat some of the berries to test whether they are poisonous. She does not die, and more tribe members begin to question the taboo against the berries. With time and enough evidence, the taboo disappears. There are certain causal inferences that cannot be tested, however, and thus can never be verified or refuted. Mores and taboos that are based on these causal inferences are obviously going to be much more resistant to change.

VI. Conclusions The difficulty in developing complicated hypotheses about causal relationships without the aid of writing is so great that all societies without writing have remained at the mythical stage. These fall into the category of traditional societies. The difficulty in falsifying myths and taboos contributes to their longevity, and a society remains entrapped by the chance events of the past that led to its particular set of myths and taboos.

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Writing can thus be regarded as necessary for the development of a modern, progressive society. Without it no society can harness the human potential for reasoning and scientific discovery, and put them to use testing and falsifying erroneous beliefs about causality and developing new theories that are better able to explain natural and social phenomena. However, writing is certainly not a sufficient condition for modernity. Simply writing down myths and taboos, memorizing them, and blindly believing and following them is not going to liberate a society from the erroneous beliefs of its past. Some members of the society must be willing to defy the prevailing myths and taboos, dare to propose and test different hypotheses about nature and human behavior, and the rest of society must be sufficiently open to new ideas to recognize when its long-held beliefs have been falsified and discard them. In Chapter 4, we begin to examine the histories of different societies to see which have been able to take this important step. Before turning to this question, we shall examine the properties of religions, because they serve to institutionalize and legitimatize myths and taboos, and thus constitute the main obstacles to the modernization of societies.

THREE

Religion

I shall venture to add an observation, that the argument [that a Supreme Being exists] a priori has seldom been found very convincing, except to people of a metaphysical head, who have accustomed themselves to abstract reasoning, and who finding from Mathematica, that the understanding frequently leads to truth, through obscurity, and contrary to first appearances, have transferred the same habit of thinking to subjects, where it would not to have place. Other people, even of good sense and best inclined to religion, feel always some deficiency in such arguments, though they are not always perhaps able to explain distinctly where it lies. A certain proof, that men ever did, and ever will derive their religion from other sources than from this species of reasoning. (David Hume [1779]1939, p. 736) And they that make little, or no inquiry into the natural causes of things, yet from the fear that proceeds from the ignorance itself, of what it is that hath the power to do them much good or harm, are inclined to suppose, and feign unto themselves, several kinds of powers invisible; and to stand in awe of their own imaginations; and in time of distress to invoke them; as also in the time of an unexpected good success, to give them thanks; making the creatures of their own fancy, their gods. By which it hath come to pass, that from the innumerable variety of fancy, men have created in the world innumerable sorts of gods. And thus fear of things invisible, is the natural seed of that, which every one in himself calleth religion; and in them that worship, or fear that power otherwise than they do, superstition. (Thomas Hobbes [1651]1946, p. 69)

Every community past and present has had some sort of religion, and today one finds people practicing several different religions in most countries. In many states, religion is given special treatment in the form of freedom from taxation or tax breaks for contributors to religious institutions. In some countries, like Germany and Austria, the state assists in the collection of revenue for religious institutions from individuals who are employed. The opening lines of the Constitution of Greece proclaim Greece to be a 51

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Greek Orthodox state, and state religions of this type exist in numerous other countries. Such widespread popular and state support for religion suggests that it must provide positive benefits to communities that justify collective actions to support religious institutions. I claim the reverse. Although religion may make some individuals better citizens, it can also have the reverse effect. Moreover, it should be possible to create good citizens through a secular education without having to construct the elaborate and often implausible belief systems that characterize most religions. Before taking up this argument, we need to examine the origins and characteristics of religions.

I. Religion and Causality Two tribesmen are chasing an antelope across the plains of Africa. It is hot and they have been running a long time. Suddenly, one falls to the ground clutching his chest and complaining of pain. After a few minutes he is dead. What caused his death? There must be a cause. People do not simply fall over dead for no reason. The dead man had not eaten or drunk anything just before dying, there is no sign of a deadly snake or spider bite. The surviving hunter has seen men die in battle when a spear enters their chests. Because the dead hunter clutched his chest in pain, something must have entered his chest and caused both the pain and the man’s death. Yet what could have entered his chest? There is no cut, hole, or other sign of anything entering. Something invisible must have entered his chest – an evil spirit. Why did it choose to enter his chest and not that of the surviving hunter? Ah, the survivor donned a necklace that morning made of the horns of an antelope that he killed last week. The necklace protected him from the evil spirit. Our surviving hunter is well on his way to inventing a theory about spirits that kill hunters, and a protection against these evil spirits. This example illustrates how myths and superstitions can arise. Our minds are always seeking causal explanations for events. Had the hunter been bitten by a poisonous snake or attacked by a lion, the cause of his death would have been obvious. Lacking such a visible cause, the surviving hunter needed to invent an invisible cause. His first thought was of an evil spirit, but he could have hypothesized many other causes. For example, if his tribe hunted with poison arrows, the hunter might have hypothesized that a spirit shot an invisible poison arrow that penetrated his companion’s chest. If the surviving hunter had seen a blackbird watching them from a nearby tree, he might have hypothesized that the bird killed his companion with an evil look or perhaps by launching an invisible, internal organ that penetrated

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the chest.1 The number of possible causes of death that the surviving hunter could imagine is large, and thus we might not expect any two hunters to hit on exactly the same cause. This superabundance of possible causes helps explain the many varieties of religious beliefs that exist. In some cases, the invisible spirits and gods take on a human form; in others, they are animals or birds. One thing we can say with considerable certainty, however, is that it is unlikely that the hunter would hypothesize that a nearby stone killed his companion. Stones are inanimate objects. They do not move, are not alive, and presumably do not think. Events like the death of a companion must be caused by some intentional being, like a human or some other type of animal, an intentional being that wanted to kill the hunter. Humans and animals are alive and act with intent. Someone – some invisible one – intended that the hunter die, and the surviving hunter must guess who or what this invisible someone was. This example also illustrates the importance of language in the propagation of religions. The two men would have been able to coordinate their actions in hunting during the mimetic period, and the same event could have taken place then. The surviving hunter might have suspected that something entered the other hunter’s chest and could have acted out what happened, but it would have been difficult to convey his hypothesis about the cause of death in the absence of language. With language, he could describe the suspicious looking blackbird that watched him and his hypothesis that the blackbird killed his companion. A myth about blackbirds being evil would be started. If some other misfortune were to occur in the presence of a blackbird, the myth would be reinforced. With enough such coincidences, a belief in the evil powers of blackbirds becomes part of this tribe’s religion. B. F. Skinner’s experiments with a pigeon, described in Chapter Two, were interpreted by him as accounting for how superstitions arise. Random rewards following meaningless actions reinforce these actions and lead to the belief that the actions cause the rewards. The idea that religion came about as a means for explaining causal relationships dates back at least to Thomas Hobbes. At the beginning of his chapter Of Religion, we find: And first, it is peculiar to the nature of man, to be inquisitive into the causes of events they see, some more, some less; but all men so much as to be curious in the search of the causes of their own good and evil fortune. 1

An African tribe called the Fang believes that some people possess an internal organ called an evur, which allows them to launch invisible attacks on other people (Boyer, 2001, pp. 66–7).

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Secondly, upon the sight of any thing that hath a beginning, to think also it had a cause, which determined the same begin, then when it did, rather sooner than later . . . man observeth how one event hath been produced by another; and remembereth in them antecedence and consequence; and when he cannot assure himself of the true causes of things (for the causes of good and evil fortune for the most part are invisible), he supposes causes of them, either such as his own fancy suggesteth; or trusteth the authority of other men, such as he thinks to be his friends, and wiser than himself. (Thomas Hobbes, [1651]1946, pp. 69–70)

Hobbes goes on to discuss how man invents gods and spirits to explain what he cannot explain, and then concludes: And in these four things, opinion of ghosts, ignorance of second causes, devotion towards what men fear, and taking things casual for prognostics, consisteth the natural seed of religion; which by reason of the different fancies, judgments, and passions of several men, hath grown up into ceremonies so different, that those which are used by one man, are for the most part ridiculous to another. (Thomas Hobbes, [1651]1946, p. 72, emphasis in the original; see opening quote as well)

II. Religion and Death The ritualization of death is an ancient human activity that predates the development of language.2 Losing someone dear is a traumatic emotional experience, and has been so for all people for as long as humans have existed. Our minds recognize other people as both living animals and beings, unique persons with specific personalities. When someone dies, we recognize that this person has stopped breathing, stopped living, and soon will decay like all other animals. Our instinctive aversion to pollution tells us that the body of the deceased must be disposed of before it begins to rot. At the same time, our mind finds it difficult to accept that the person whom we knew – with whom we talked, laughed, and cried – is no more. Our mind tells us that the spirit of the person must still exist. Thus, arises the notion of dualism – we possess both a body and a soul, and they are separate things. The body dies, but the soul lives on. Spirits of the dead are the most common form of supernatural agents across all cultures.3 In many communities, spirits of the dead are assumed to watch over the community and intervene in its daily activity. Religion then takes the form of ancestor worship. Prayers and sacrifices are offered to induce the ancestors to intervene on behalf of the community or for specific individuals. These 2 3

Boyer (2001, p. 203). Boyer (2001, p. 227).

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prayers and sacrifices must always be performed in particular ways to be effective. Thus arises the need for intermediaries – shamans and priests – who are experts in performing the necessary rituals. Ghosts of the dead, angels, devils, and gods all share common characteristics. They are conscious, intentional agents; it is possible to make inferences about what they are thinking, their intentions, and what it takes to please or offend them. Unlike the intentional agents that we meet everyday, however, spirits and gods inevitably possess some supernatural properties – they are immortal, omniscient, invisible, can pass through brick walls, and so on. The combination of being both familiar agents and wondrous, otherworldly beings makes a vivid impression on the mind – a lasting impression.

III. Religion and Morality No one has recorded how our earliest ancestors developed the notions of gods and spirits. Did someone first hypothesize the existence of an invisible spirit to explain a perplexing event, and later the tribe hit upon the idea that these spirits were the ghosts of deceased tribe members? Or did the tribe first conceive of the notion that the souls of people lived on after their bodies died, and these living souls were the invisible causes of puzzling events? For our purposes, the answers to these questions are unimportant. Conceivably, spirits were invented for one reason in some tribes, and for another in other tribes. Once invented, however, spirits take on active roles in all tribal societies. They intervene in the daily lives of tribal members. Individuals believe that they see spirits occasionally, communicate with them, and do things that please or anger them. The challenge of surviving in the Pleistocene placed a premium on cooperative behavior. As in all communities, children learned from their parents and elders which actions were right and wrong. Guilt and pride appear to be part of our inherited emotional response kit.4 All people thus grow up believing that their elders know right from wrong, and that they punish or reward our actions accordingly. It is quite natural, therefore, to assume that our elders remain concerned about whether we are doing right or wrong after they die. Thus, we find in tribes that engage in ancestor worship that their spirits are preoccupied with the behavior of the tribe. Moreover, unlike living parents and elders, ancestor spirits see everything, and thus it is impossible to get away with an immoral act without being caught. In 4

Boyer (2001, ch. 5).

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this way, a link between religion and morality arises. Although spirits and ghosts were perhaps invented for other reasons – to account for inexplicable events, to help people cope with the trauma of the death of dear ones – once invented they take on the task of monitoring the living to ensure that they behave morally and in ways that benefit the community and not just themselves. People untrained in mathematics can nevertheless understand general principles of probability. They learn that lightning is more likely during summer than in winter and that rain is more likely in early winter than in summer. At the same time, however, the concept of pure chance is difficult to comprehend.5 Why did my daughter get struck by lightning during a summer storm and not a tree, or my neighbor’s son, or me? She must have done something wrong. But she is too young and innocent to have done something wrong. I must have done something wrong. The need for a causal explanation for every event, a lack of understanding of pure chance, and the belief that our ancestors watch our every move and punish us when we do wrong combine to produce a belief in direct links between actions on earth, the spirits’ and gods’ responses to these actions, and subsequent earthly events. Fear of punishment (hope for reward) leads people to behave morally, and to interpret good fortune as a reward for good deeds and misfortune as punishment for wrongdoing

IV. Religion as an Exchange Relationship Humans are endowed with intuitive notions of fairness. If you share your kill with me, then I know that I should share my kill with you next time. When we exchange a weapon for a tool, we know that the two objects should be of roughly equal value in terms of the time spent making them. Our tribal ancestors would have understood these notions of fairness well, and would also have known that you usually do not get something for nothing – there are no free lunches. It would be natural for them, therefore, to think that their spirit-ancestors would want something in exchange for doing them a favor – the performance of a prayer, a dance, or the sacrifice of a lamb. 5

Boyer (2001, pp. 195–6) challenges the idea that tribal societies do not understand the concept of chance: “Anthropologists know that people the world over are rather good at detecting statistical regularities in their environment.” He then goes on, however, to give examples indicating that individuals do not in fact understand pure chance. The African tribe Fang, for example, understands that people die of biological causes like tuberculosis, but still want to know why a particular person “was chosen” to die of this disease (Boyer, 2001, p. 196). Dennett (2006) observes that people have difficulty with the concept of pure chance.

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All religions have this exchange-relationship characteristic. The community facing a drought prays for rain, the expectant father prays for a healthy baby and that his wife survives childbirth. The tribe sacrifices a goat for success in battle. The terminal cancer patient prays to be taken into Heaven. If the spirits and gods could not “deliver the goods,” there would not be much point in praying to them. In early human history, a pressing need in most societies was having enough to eat and drink. Humans craved food, and it was plausible to assume that their ancestors or gods did also. Sacrifices of food were common religious rituals. One supposes that the first sacrificial lambs were left to rot on the sacrificial alters. The people making the sacrifices would be sure to have observed, however, that the gods did not seem to eat the lambs. Because food was scarce, a pragmatic community would modify the ritual to avoid such waste. Thus, it was typical that only the head or the heart of an animal would be sacrificed, and the sacrificial lambs and grains would be eaten by the community as part of the religious ceremony.6 Meat was the primary source of protein in most societies, and meat was a favored object of sacrifice. Human sacrifices to win favors from the gods were also common. Children and prisoners of war were particularly popular. Neither is productive, and it is costly to feed them.7 Humans, like sheep and cattle, are a good source of protein and thus cannibalism was common, particularly where there was a shortage of large domesticated animals. The Aztecs provide an extreme example. They had no domesticated cows, sheep, or pigs. Their main sources of proteins were insects, small rodents, and a few breeds of fowl. The Aztecs craved protein and thus presumed that their gods did also. They sacrificed prisoners of war to the gods. The heart would be cut out of a live prisoner; his still-beating heart would then be presented to a god. The rest of the body would then be eaten by the participants in the ceremony. The remains of hundreds of thousands of human sacrifices have been found in Aztec ruins. The Aztecs were a people continually at war. Both their warlike nature and their religious practice of cannibalism can be explained by their need for protein. The Aztecs provide a vivid example of how religious beliefs have been shaped to meet the needs of the community.8 Religious rituals always have a particular goal behind them – success in battle, in love, in the hunt, to get well, to have a happy afterlife. To be 6 7 8

Harris (1989, p. 415); Boyer (2001, p. 230). Harris (1989, pp. 418–19, 422–5). Harris (1989, pp. 428–36).

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effective, rituals must typically be performed in certain ways. The ancestors would not be pleased if just any old goat was sacrificed. It must be a white goat, washed three times by a virgin or perhaps a woman past menopause because the monthly periods make a woman unclean, and the neck of the goat must be slit from left to right.9 The rituals’ complexity often required certain persons to perform them – a shaman, witch doctor, or priest. Each shaman had to have a certain bag of “tricks” to impress his clients. They were, therefore, a bit like magicians. Here again, we see how the juxtaposition of events can give rise to an erroneous inference of causality. Following a particular ritual, some people will get well or have luck in the hunt, and this reinforces the belief that the ritual caused the event. Moreover, belief in the powers of the shaman may increase the confidence of the hunter and thereby the likelihood of his success, or increase the belief of the sick person that she will get well. Modern medical experience shows that ill people who intensely believe that they will get well have higher probabilities of recovery.10 Because religious rituals require a belief in the supernatural, shamans, witch doctors, and priests must themselves be unnatural in some way. When an epileptic has a seizure, he behaves in a most unnatural way, as if perhaps seized by a spirit. Epileptics frequently became shamans. Others became shamans because they could put themselves into a trance or feign one. As religions evolved, shamans were replaced by priests who obtained their “powers of magic” through training or by adopting unusual lifestyles like celibacy.

V. Summary of Local Religions Religion first appeared among the hunters and gatherers from whom we are descended. To understand what religion is and why it is important to so many people, we must understand why it was invented. Rather than use a possibly pejorative term like tribal or primitive religions, I choose to call them local religions in contrast to the universal religions discussed later. These early religions were truly local in that the nature of the spirits and gods and a tribe’s beliefs about them would typically differ from one tribe to 9

10

See discussion in Boyer (2001, ch. 7). Boyer (2001, pp. 238–9) notes the similarities between the behavior prescribed in religious rituals and the behavior of people with obsessive-compulsive behavior (think of Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets). In both cases, there is often a great fear of pollution and thus ritualistic washing of the hands; a mindless repetition of certain actions; and a fear of great danger should the acts not be performed properly – the goat has not been washed three times, the obsessive-compulsive steps on a crack in the sidewalk. Harris (1989, pp. 411–12).

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the next. Some features are common to almost all religions, however, from the earliest known tribes to modern postindustrial states.11 1. The belief that “a nonphysical component of persons can survive after death and remain an intentional being.” 2. The belief that “certain people are especially likely to receive direct inspiration or messages from extranatural agencies, such as gods and spirits.” 3. The belief that “performing certain ritual ‘recipes’ in the exact way and order prescribed can bring about changes in physical states of affairs.” These beliefs arise as attempts to explain events that cannot be explained with the information and knowledge at hand.12 Because the known causes of events are familiar objects – the lion kills the antelope, rain causes grass and flowers to sprout, the sun parches the grass – causes invented to explain events for which no obvious explanation exists take on the shapes of familiar objects. To my knowledge, no tribe or society has ever invented a god who was a heptagon or cylinder. Once again, the chance juxtaposition of events may lead to an inference of causality. A hunter finds a stone in the stomach of an antelope and soon thereafter has particularly good luck in his hunting. He attributes his good luck to a spirit lodged in the stone.13 A tribe has particularly good luck hunting by a full moon and begins to pray to the moon. Hunting tribes frequently have had moon gods. Because hunting was carried out by the men, moon gods were male. Tribes that were more dependent on farming or gathering had sun gods, because the sun is more important than the moon for growing plants. Because tending crops and gathering grains and berries was the work of the women of the tribe, sun gods have been female.14 Humans love and hate, laugh and cry, and so too, therefore, do ghosts, spirits, and gods. Some even make love and get drunk. Thus, although humans have invented supernatural beings to explain that which they could 11 12

13

14

Boyer (1994, p. 5). Stark (2004, ch. 1) reviews the different definitions of religion that have been given, and opts for a narrower concept than offered here, instead focusing on the explanatory role of the supernatural in religion. The Aguaruna in the Amazon region believe that certain stones have magical properties – some make one successful at hunting, some in love, some in war, etc. If one has a stone that one thinks would make one successful in war, but then has great success in hunting, one might reclassify it as a yuka, the kind of stone that brings success in hunting (Boyer, 1994, pp. 142–6). See Quigley (1979, pp. 176–77).

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not explain by natural causes, because humans have no firsthand knowledge of these beings, they have endowed them with emotions and characteristics familiar to all humans. Supernatural beings are intentional beings with many of the same wants and desires as humans. They differ from humans in a few important ways – they are immortal, and they observe everything humans do. Religious rituals can be thought of as both causal and abductive.15 Belief in the efficacy of religious rituals rests on three assumptions.16 1. An assumption about a particular episode (e.g., “This is a properly performed instance of ritual x”). 2. An explanatory conjecture about a particular person (e.g., “This person is a member of category y”). 3. A causal conjecture (e.g., “It is because this person is a member of category y that the person performed x successfully”). Because the purpose of every religious ritual – indeed, of all religions – is to get something (success at the hunt, a place in Heaven), a shaman’s ability “to keep his customers” depends in part on his ability “to deliver the goods.” A long stretch of poor hunting or drought may rob a shaman of his followers. To summarize, the challenge faced by every society is to understand the causal relationships present in their environment, and make use of this understanding. When the juxtaposition of events gives rise to a commonsense inference of causality, this inference is adopted. When no commonsense explanation for an event exists, other explanations must be sought. Human societies have often invoked the supernatural to explain that which could not be accounted for by natural causes. Superstition and religion can be viewed as theoretical constructs for explaining phenomena for which no natural causes have been found.

VI. Universal Religions Local religions are oriented toward the present life. They explain certain events, help people cope with the trauma of death, and reinforce the mores of the community; this in turn helps produce cooperation and a better communal life, and allows individuals to engage in exchange with their ancestors or gods to bring about good health here on earth, success in 15 16

Boyer (1994, ch. 8; 2001, ch. 7). Boyer (1994, p. 240).

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hunting, or success in battle. Although a particular tribe’s members may expect to join their ancestors when they die, they typically have vague ideas about what this afterlife will be like. The ancestors are assumed to observe the living members of the tribe, and punish and reward them for certain actions. Ancestors are not presumed to have a particularly happy afterlife, however, and thus the actions of tribe members are not motivated toward rewards in the afterlife. In contrast, the universal religions are heavily focused on the afterlife and the rewards and punishments that await one there. The first of Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths emphasizes human suffering (dukha). All humans are caught in a cycle of life and rebirth that entails much suffering. The second Noble Truth deals with the cause of human suffering. Here we see a direct correspondence with local religions. The spirits and gods of local religions offer explanations for certain, often tragic events. Buddhism offers an explanation for why we suffer. The third and fourth Noble Truths, however, offer hope. The cycle of suffering can be broken by following the Eightfold Path of (1) right views, (2) right intentions, (3) right speech, (4) right conduct, (5) right livelihood, (6) right effort, (7) right mindfulness, and (8) right concentration. Following this path is no easy thing, however. Besides faith (saddha or panna), one needs training in concentration and meditation (samadhi), and various ethical and disciplinary practices (sali). Those who follow the Eightfold Path successfully are able to break the cycle of suffering and enter into nirvana (the state of freedom, rest, and salvation). Christianity’s Ten Commandments are also a set of proscriptions forbidding certain actions on earth with the promise of Heaven awaiting those who live in accordance with the Commandments. Much speculation and theorizing in Christianity has been concerned with characterizing life in Heaven – or Hell. At first glance, Islam might be thought to be an exception in this regard because the Koran is not otherworldly oriented, but rather very much focused on life on earth and what we should do here. The word Islam means submission, however, and the Koran describes in great detail what each individual should and should not do in her daily life. Many of its proscriptions – from praying five times a day to fasting during Ramadan – require the sacrifice of certain earthly pleasures with the promise of later rewards in Heaven, as with Christianity and Buddhism. In this respect, Islam is very similar to the other major universal religions. As knowledge advanced and societies became more complex and sophisticated, understanding of causality increased and the need to invent supernatural causes for events declined. As trade and communications expanded, individuals came into contact with other religions, and began to notice the

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strange if not bizarre beliefs of some other groups. These developments favored the invention of universal religions. A universal religion must by definition be essentially the same in every community where it is practiced – in farming as well as hunting communities. A universal religion, therefore, cannot easily accommodate local peculiarities and conditions. It cannot offer a female sun god to a farming community and a male moon god to a hunting community. Replacing the multitude of gods and spirits with a single god (or at most, a handful of gods) is thus a necessary step in the creation of a universal religion. Heterogeneity across communities also makes it difficult to orient a universal religion toward providing rewards and penalties in this life, because the needs of communities differ greatly. It is also likely that individuals in more complex societies became skeptical about the powers of shamans and priests to cure diseases, chase away evil spirits, and bring success in battle as knowledge and understanding of causality and chance grew. Thus, another logical step in the development of a universal religion is to reorient exchange relationships between gods and humans away from providing rewards on earth to providing them in Heaven. This shift in orientation also has the advantage of making verification of the provision of the rewards impossible.17 Although universal religions are less concerned with explaining daily events than are local religions, they too can be used to explain the otherwise inexplicable even today. Thus, we have the explanation by Sheikh Yousef Al-Qaradawi, head of the European Council for Fatwa and Research, as to why the 2004 earthquake in the Indian Ocean that caused a tsunami that killed thousands of people occurred where it did. People must ask themselves why this earthquake occurred in this area and not in others. Why did it occur at this time and not another? Why? Whoever examines these areas discovers that they are tourism areas. Tourism areas are areas where the forbidden acts are widespread, as well as alcohol consumption, drug use, and acts of abomination. Whoever knows about tourism in our age knows this. These areas were notorious because of this modern tourism, which has become known as “sex tourism” . . . Don’t they deserve punishment from Allah?18

After September 11, 2001, evangelist preacher Jerry Falwell also concluded that the attacks on the World trade Center were God’s punishment for America’s sins. 17 18

This property of being unverifiable makes religion a form of “credence” good. See Ekelund and Tollison (2008), and Ekelund, Tollison, and Vasilescu (2008). As quoted in Klausen (2005, p. 210).

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I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle . . . all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point a finger in their face and say “you helped it happen.”19

The big advantage of universal religions over local religions as far as causal explanations is concerned, however, is that they offer answers to the big questions such as how was the universe created? Who created man? The answers offered to these questions again have the advantage of being unverifiable.20 Thus, universal religions have all of the salient characteristics of local religions. They provide answers to puzzling questions; they proscribe certain immoral actions and prescribe certain moral ones; they contain rituals, which allow individuals to obtain particular rewards and avoid certain punishments; and they are greatly concerned with death and the passage into the afterlife. Equally important, however, is the way in which universal and local religions differ. Universal religions provide answers to different sorts of questions, such as who created the earth? They replace all-knowing ancestors and spirits with an all-knowing single god. Where the rewards and punishments meted out by a tribe’s ancestors alter individuals’ lives on earth, the rewards and punishments of a universal religion’s omniscient god are experienced in the afterlife. The difference between universal and local religions is nicely illustrated by the African tribe, the Fang.21 The Fang are in daily contact with their ancestors, and pray and make sacrifices to them to obtain favors here on earth and to avoid misfortunes. They also believe in a god known as Mebeghe who is far more powerful than any living person or deceased spirit, and who created the earth and heavens, animals and humans. This god was followed by another, Nzame, who invented tools, clothing, and other artifacts, and taught humans to hunt and farm. Although Mebeghe and Nzame are in one sense more powerful than the Fang’s ancestral spirits, they do not pray or make sacrifices to them. The Fang do not believe that Mebeghe and Nzame observe each individual’s every action and reward good and punish bad behavior. They are thus irrelevant for the Fang’s everyday life. One assumes that the Fang first invented the notion of spirit-ancestors and developed the practices of praying and sacrificing to them to help them to control their everyday lives. Mebeghe and Nzame were invented later to answer more 19 20 21

See http://archives.cnn.com/2001/US/09/14/Falwell.apology/. Falwell later bowed to heavy criticism and apologized for his remarks. Dennett (2006, p. 164) stresses the importance of propositions in religion that cannot be refuted. See discussion in Boyer (2001, p. 141).

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abstract questions about the origins of life and manmade artefacts. Because the Fang already knew how to ensure good health, adequate rainfall, and so on, by performing certain rituals to please their ancestors, there was no reason to hypothesize that these creator-gods could supply the same benefits, and thus no reason to pray and make sacrifices to them. The death of a universal religion’s founder (Buddha, Christ, Mohammed) creates a crisis for his followers – how to continue to spread his teachings. Compilations of his teachings are put together, and his followers set out to convert others to the religion. Out of this group of initial missionaries emerges a set of experts on the religion, which Boyer refers to as a guild.22 Guild members become the official interpreters of the religion’s doctrines and performers of its rituals. Like all guilds, religious guilds abhor competition and thus attempt to eliminate it. It is no accident that the first of the Ten Commandments prohibits belief in “false” gods. Each universal religion claims that it alone can promise salvation, nirvana, or other forms of eternal happiness, and thus encourages people to join the one true faith and discourages defection.23 The shamans and priests of local religions are assumed to possess mystical powers, with which they were either born or received from the spirits. On the other hand, the priests of universal religions acquire their powers through study. The Catholic Church has also tried to set its clergy apart from the Church’s membership by requiring priests and nuns to take vows of celibacy. In principle anyone could study and become a priest24 or practice celibacy, so guild members are very vulnerable to entry and competition. Thus, religious guilds inevitably seek protection from competition by teaming up with the state.25 One effective way to protect a monopoly is to create a brand image. Religious brands take the form of doctrines that are specific to a particular religion. Thus, religious doctrines play a great role in the development of universal religions while being largely absent from local religions. Religious doctrines are easier to standardize and promulgate if they can be written down. Thus, the emergence of both universal religions and writing and literacy in more complex societies is not by pure chance. Without a written 22 23

24 25

See discussion in Boyer (2001, ch. 8). Ekelund, H´ebert, and Tollison (2006) discuss at great the length the methods that the once-monopolistic Catholic Church used to ward off competition. See also, Ekelund and Tollison (2008), and Ekelund, Tollison, and Vasilescu (2008). In several religions, this anyone must be a male. In Book V of The Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith (1776) discusses the practices used by religions to maintain market power and the costs to society from religious monopolies. See discussion in Ekelund, H´ebert, and Tollison (2006, p. 14ff.).

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version of a religious doctrine, it would not be possible to guarantee that it was the same in every community. Passing a religious doctrine on by word of mouth would inevitably lead to alterations in content. With writing, one can ensure that the same doctrines are taught and the same rituals performed in every community. Thus, universal religions can be regarded as the first form of brand creation and franchising. Just as a McDonald’s customer can expect the same size and quality of a Big Mac in China, France, and California, a Catholic can expect the ritual of the mass to be much the same in China, France, and California. All universal religions seek to be monopolies and some, like the Catholic Church in Europe from the Middle Ages until the beginning of the sixteenth century, have come close. Yet none seems capable of sustaining a monopoly on dogma indefinitely. One reason for this is that no founder of any universal religion has had the time or inclination to write down his teachings in detail and codify them. Thus, codifications took place after the founders’ deaths and were undertaken by their followers. Because different followers had different recollections and interpretations of the founder’s teachings, disagreement over the exact wording of the religion’s authentic doctrine was inevitable. All universal religions, therefore, have been plagued by schisms. In addition to competition from within, universal religions face competition from without – from other universal and local religions. Many religious doctrines are rather abstract – think of the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, that there is one God, but he consists of three parts, two of which have a father-son relationship. Although accounts of events in the lives of Buddha, Christ, and Mohammed are inspiring when first heard, these too may lose their power to excite over time. Behavioral psychology teaches us that habits are more easily established and maintained when rewards follow actions immediately than when they are delayed. A problem all universal religions face is that their greatest rewards are delayed until after death. On the other hand, the rewards individuals perceive that they get from local religions occur here on earth. Thus, universal religions often have to bend to accommodate local religious customs. . . . many Hindu scholars contrast what they call shastrik elements of the religion, the belief and practices supposed to be the definition of Hinduism, with the lautik or local, popular and contextual versions. The shastrik elements should apply everywhere . . . People always add to or distort doctrine. The same phenomenon is found in Buddhism, where scholars are scandalized by the many pagan practices they must witness, tolerate and in which they are sometimes forced to participate. The history of early Christianity also includes many difficult conflicts between the competing claims of a still fragile Church with considerable political backing and a host of local

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cults that somehow deviate from doctrine . . . In some ways, Hinduism achieved a more balanced equilibrium between the general, literate version and the inevitable local variants and additions. This was realized mostly through the convenient division between great gods of cosmic significance and local deities, more generally goddesses, that were mainly relevant at the local level. More or less every settlement has its own goddess who is specially concerned with the inhabitants of that special place. (Boyer, 2001, pp. 281–2)

Today, many Italian towns and cities still have their patron saint whose birthday is celebrated each year with a parade and festival. These local saints play a similar role as local gods in Hinduism. The celebrations serve to strengthen ties among community members and thus, hopefully, produce more cooperative and socially oriented behavior as do the celebrations and dances of local religions. Good examples of the blending of universal and local religious practices can be found in Africa. According to Na Honoun, a voodoo priestess, Christians in Benin go to church on Sunday, but visit the voodoo priests and priestesses the rest of the week.26 In Benin, day-to-day exchange relationships with the spirits appear to remain just as or even more important than the relationship with the more remote Christian God. A similar pattern exists in Asia. Many Asians go to a Brahman priest to seek rewards in the afterlife, and to local magicians to obtain immediate, worldly benefits.27 Evangelical movements may also arise to fulfill the desires of people to have local religions that cater to their specific and immediate needs. As with all local religions, evangelical movements come in many forms. Religious services are typically not the solemn rituals of the mainstream universal churches, but emotional affairs with much singing and chanting just as in the rituals of local religions. As with other local religions, Christian evangelical movements often stress the exchange relationship between believers and God, with God expected to deliver immediate rewards – physical health, peace of mind – in exchange for prayers and the not insignificant contributions to the wealth of the evangelist preacher.28

VII. The Origin of Universal Religions Of the five great universal religions – Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism – Hinduism’s ties to local religions are the most apparent. Hinduism’s many gods can be explained by its having absorbed 26 27 28

Economist, January 28, 2006. Stark (2004, p. 19). See discussion in Dennett (2006, pp. 190–1, 225–6) and references to other works.

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local gods as it expanded. The same explanation accounts for the polytheism of the Ancient Greeks. The rituals that take place in Hindu temples also resemble in many respects rituals of local religions. A statue of a god is thought to be that god. He or she must be awakened, washed, and fed like any other being. Similar rituals are also performed in the home where an image of a “family” god is kept. As economic life on the Indian subcontinent became more complex and society became more urbanized, a division of labor arose as in all complex economic systems. The Indian caste system formalizes this division by making each occupational group effectively a guild protected from competition and entry by the marriage restrictions that characterize the caste system.29 The instinctive aversion to pollution that exists in all human societies is reflected in the caste system by the requirement that members of the lowest class – the untouchables – be restricted to occupations dealing with unclean objects. The highest caste – the Brahmins – is of course reserved for priests. Buddhism builds on Hinduism and adopts its central idea of a cycle of life. Its founder Siddhartha (circa 560–480 bce), like Jesus, is reputed to be the product of divine conception. A white elephant entered Siddhartha’s mother’s womb while she slept. In his early thirties, Siddhartha traveled about northern India seeking enlightenment. One evening he sat down under a pipal tree and meditated. When dawn came he had become the Supreme Buddha. Buddhism shares its belief in the cycle of life and rebirth with Hinduism. In this respect, both universal religions share with local religions a concern about the passage from this life into the next. Both also contain lists of things people should do during their lives. Unlike with local religions, however, performance of these duties is not intended to make one’s life on earth better, but to break the cycle of life. The ultimate goal of Buddhism and Hinduism is not so much to enjoy the present life but to permanently leave it for a better afterlife. Judaism’s great invention was monotheism. As with Hinduism, one cannot identify a single person, like Siddhartha or Mohammed, who founded the religion or propounded the idea of there being but one god. According to the Torah, God revealed himself to the Jewish patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and informed them that He was the one true God. Judaism’s account of the Jews’ early history is filled with meetings between God and

29

Mancur Olson (1982) characterizes the castes as forms of guilds.

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prophets like Moses, and miracles such as the Red Sea’s parting to allow the Jews to escape from Egypt. Christianity and Islam both build on Judaism. Christianity claims that Jesus was the Messiah long awaited by the Jews. Islam claims that Mohammed was a prophet, indeed the Prophet, who was visited by the archangel Gabriel and instructed to lead the Arab people back to the one true religion. Both are monotheistic, although Christianity adds the complication of the Holy Trinity, or God being of three parts. Although these five universal religions differ in important ways from local religions, they retain their essential elements and indeed those of all religions. Hinduism and Buddhism are greatly concerned with death and afterlife. Siddhartha and Jesus appeared to be born of woman like any other man, but were products of immaculate conceptions. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses were visited by God; Mohammed by an angel. These gods and angels are all intentional beings who speak to the persons with whom they meet for the purpose of getting them to do their will. Some people possess charisma, but most do not. Religious sects and cults are started by those possessing sufficient charisma to convince a group of people to follow them down a new religious path. Siddhartha, Jesus, and Mohammed appear to have been men with great charisma judging from the effect that they had on those who came into contact with them. However, no one has a monopoly on charisma, and so we find religious history filled with charismatic figures from Martin Luther to Martin Luther King. In some cases, these founders of new religions or religious sects have borrowed elements from the great universal religions. Today the Mormon Church is one of the fastest growing and most prosperous religious movements. Its founder Joseph Smith Jr. was visited by the prophet Moroni in 1830, just as Mohammad was visited by the archangel Gabriel. Moroni showed Smith where the Book of Mormon was buried – a book that purportedly contained the teachings of one of the lost tribes of Israel and was buried in New England in the fourth century ce. With God’s help, Smith translated it into English and it became the holy book for the Mormon religion.

VIII. Contrasting the Theoretical Systems of Modern and Traditional Societies In an extremely interesting essay, Robin Horton (1982) draws a contrast between the theoretical systems of modern and traditional societies, which

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is similar to the one made here.30 By modern, he means Western; by traditional, African, although the latter designation could apply to all tribal societies. Modern societies make considerable use of formal scientific methods to achieve an understanding of causal relationships, whereas traditional societies rely largely on abductive methods, as described in Chapter 2. Both societies, however, possess “theoretical systems whose basic raison d’ˆetre [is] the extension of the magnificent but none the less limited causal vision of everyday commonsense thinking” (p. 201). Both theoretical systems can be divided into two parts. Primary theory refers to the commonsense causal relationships people infer from the close juxtaposition of natural events, what I, following Boyer (1994), have referred to as abductive theory. This everyday commonsense thinking constitutes the kind of causal inferences that come from experience as stressed by Hume. Knowledge is accumulated through primary theory in much the same way in all societies and cultures. Secondary theory consists of the mental constructs that people employ to explain those phenomena that cannot be explained by primary theory. Although primary theories are similar across cultures, secondary theories “possess startling differences . . . between community and community, culture and culture” (p. 228). In one important respect, however, they are similar – secondary theories in both systems rely on entities and processes that are in some sense “hidden” to the human observer, whereas these entities and processes are directly observable in the primary theories (p. 229). Hidden entities in the secondary theories of traditional societies are ghosts, spirits, and gods, and thus are personal in the sense that they take on the shapes of humans or animals and are intentional beings like humans and animals. In contrast, the hidden entities in the secondary theories of modern Western society are inanimate objects and thus impersonal or mechanistic, for example, atoms, electrons, sound waves, and gravitational forces (p. 229). Horton also discusses the following important differences between cultures: traditionalist versus progressive; consensual versus competitive (pp. 238–48). In a traditionalist society, people believe that wisdom was discovered by the ancients and has been passed down to the present. This wisdom provides a true picture of the world, mainly because it has the authority of the ancients behind it, but also because it has withstood the test of time. Its account of events is not so out of line with experience as to 30

All page references in this section are to Horton (1982) unless otherwise noted.

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call the wisdom of the ancients into question. Edmund Burke, whose work is discussed in Chapter 8, will be seen to have been the perfect embodiment of a traditionalist. Progressives place little stock in the teachings of the past. We know more today than we did yesterday, we will know more tomorrow than we do today. Thus, progressives are inherently optimistic about man’s ability to acquire knowledge and about the future. Tomorrow will be a better day, because we will know more then than we do now. Immanuel Kant’s ([1795]1949) World Peace captures this optimism perfectly, but many other works from the Enlightenment might also be cited. A consensual society reinforces the conservatism of a traditional society. With all members of society sharing a common set of beliefs, a common Weltanschauung, there is no one to point out the inconsistencies in these beliefs and their failures to account for certain phenomena. In a society in which belief systems and theoretical models compete, proponents of one system continually point out the inadequacies of their competitors, and competitors strive to improve their performance in explaining and predicting events. A more rapid accumulation of knowledge can thus be expected in a progressive and competitive system than in a traditionalist, consensual system. Horton also claims that the cultural homogeneity that existed in precolonial Africa and Medieval Europe is more conducive to traditionalism than the kind of melting pot, frontier societies that existed in sixth century bce, Greece, or the Netherlands at the beginning of the Scientific Revolution, where the inconsistencies and of traditional beliefs would be continually exposed (pp. 254–6). Because much of this book emphasizes the importance of reasoning and the distinction between progressive and traditional societies, it is perhaps worthwhile to conclude this discussion by commenting on whether traditional societies with their superstitious and religious beliefs are less rational or might even be called irrational alongside their modern counterparts. This is essentially a semantic issue, but in this case I think that the semantics are important. Today, we would say that a belief that the sun goes around the earth is irrational. We know that the earth circles the sun, and that it only appears that the sun is circling the earth. However, five thousand years ago, one’s only basis for judging whether the earth circles the sun or the sun the earth was personal observations. If the earth were flat and stationary and the sun were circling it, then we would predict that the sun would be visible only part of the time, which is what we observe. Moreover, because no object would ever have been observed to remain in motion indefinitely, it would have

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been reasonable to further assume that some invisible spirit or god must be pulling the sun. If our religion postulated that we were god’s chosen people, it would add further plausibility to the hypothesis that the sun – and by implication all of the stars – circled the earth, and that the earth was the center of the universe. If the earth were circling the sun, we would expect to see the sun all of the time. The hypothesis that the earth was a ball and both rotating and circling the sun would have been difficult to formulate with the knowledge stock of five thousand years ago. Thus, it would not have been irrational then to maintain the hypothesis that the sun circles the earth, only erroneous. Today, we would probably call someone from an advanced industrial country who believes that the sun circles the earth irrational. Why the difference? The difference is, of course, that our knowledge of the laws of gravity, physics, and astronomy is much greater today than five thousand years ago, as is our capacity to observe stars and planets in motion. To maintain the hypothesis today that the sun circles the earth is to discard overwhelming evidence to the contrary, and discarding factual scientific evidence is irrational. Analogously, it would not be inherently irrational five thousand years ago to believe that someone who suddenly died of no apparent reason had been killed by an evil spirit – or for that matter today in a traditional society. Man’s understanding of the causes of death was and is much weaker in these environments than in modern society. Today, an autopsy can be performed and a probable cause of death determined. What would be irrational today is to assume that a middle-aged man who died while running a long distance in the sun and was diagnosed as having had a heart attack died because of an evil spirit. Superstitions and religions arise to offer explanations for the inexplicable and predictions for the unpredictable. They arise in much the same way as other statements of causal relationships. As such, their maintenance is not inherently irrational, any more than the belief that the sun circles the earth was five thousand years ago. These beliefs only become irrational to hold as evidence against them accumulates.31 Horton’s traditional societies belong to Donald’s mythic culture. They possess language and the capability to reason, but lack writing and thus are unable to store and accumulate knowledge to the same degree as modern societies. So-called theories of traditional societies about the origins of humans, whether there is life after death, and whether dead people reappear as ghosts are stories made up to fill gaps in their knowledge of the world 31

For further discussion of the rationality of these beliefs, see Sperber (1982).

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about them. The invention of writing allowed humans to replace these traditional myths and stories with hypotheses that involved abstract concepts like gravitational forces, atoms, electrical charges, and sound waves. Models of nature could be constructed and predictions verified. Scientific theories of the modern age could replace the mythic stories of traditional societies. Thus, the invention of writing made it possible for societies to enter the modern age, but only a few chose to take advantage of this opportunity.

IX. Science and Religion Understanding causal relationships is essential to human understanding of the world and of our ability to survive in it. It is no surprise that in his An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, David Hume focused upon causal relationships. . . . if there be any relation among objects which it imports to us to know perfectly, it is that of cause and effect. On this are founded all our reasonings concerning matter of fact or existence. By means alone of it we attain any assurance concerning objects which are removed from the present testimony of our memory and senses. The only immediate utility of all sciences, is to teach us, how to control and regulate future events by their causes. (Hume [1748]1939, p. 631)

Religion and science offer two alternative strategies for understanding causal relationships. As we saw in the previous section, both build on assumptions about unseen agents or forces. They differ fundamentally, however, in that scientific explanations for natural phenomena can be tested and rejected by data while religious accounts can never be tested. Scientific progress consists of rejecting false hypotheses and developing new, correct ones; of discarding false causal inferences and retaining correct ones. Cultural evolution proceeds in much the same way. As a community learns, it discards its false causal inferences and adds to its stock of correct ones, and the community’s health and welfare should increase. Such learning can be of both natural and social phenomena. Our understanding today of how market exchange benefits all members of a community has helped to produce the prosperity that most countries with market economies enjoy. Cultural evolution, as defined here, consists in precisely this expanding stock of knowledge concerning correct causal inferences about natural and social phenomena. To benefit from science, a community must both foster its development and be open to the new ideas that it produces. Resources must be devoted to education in the sciences and scientific research. Here there are real

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differences between the modern countries generally referred to as part of the West, and countries more or less tied to tradition. In some cases, countries simply lack the resources to educate most of their population in the sciences or any other subject. In others, however, science is deemphasized as a matter of choice. Saudi Arabia and Iran are not poor countries by any measure of comparison. Yet students in these countries from grammar school through university spend countless hours studying religion and thus have less time for science and other modern subjects. Moreover, the study of religion consists largely of rote learning – memorization of long passages of religious text. This is true, of course, of nearly all religious instruction. Students are not, indeed cannot be taught to question the validity of religious texts and claims or to challenge their teachers, because these texts are purportedly the word of God, and thus must be valid. Education systems in countries like Saudi Arabia and Iran confine their young people to traditional modes of thought and behavior through both their methods of teaching and what is taught. A culture that places a heavy emphasis on science must be progressive to a certain degree. New and more effective medicines replace ineffective remedies; new means of communication replace old methods. It is difficult to be open to new ideas in one area and closed to them in others. Thus, the spread of new ideas in open societies affects other spheres of knowledge like history, art, and even moral philosophy. Here again the contrast between Western, secular societies and those where religion plays a dominant role is stark. The devout believer must inherently be conservative. She must be continually looking back to the time when the religion’s founder lived and brought truth to the earth. His teachings, as written down and interpreted by his followers centuries ago, determine even today how a person should behave, dress, and think. In this respect, the differences between a Western country such as Sweden and a Saudi Arabia are apparent in how people dress, what they study, and perhaps most conspicuously, in the liberties people have to do and think what they want, be it a woman’s desire to drive a car, or a man’s desire to convert to Catholicism. Yet these differences should not be overemphasized. Where the Saudis ban alcohol because the Koran forbids it, the Swedes tax it heavily and place strict restrictions on its sale. The purported justification for such policies in Sweden today is that they promote health and safety, but their origin dates back to the nineteenth century’s prohibition movement, which was heavily influenced by religion. It was not too long ago when the Religious Right succeeded in prohibiting the sale of alcohol in the United States. Under George W. Bush’s administration, the Religious Right

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succeeded in restricting scientific research in certain areas because of beliefs about what the Bible allows. Thus, there are many in the West who would take us back in time and restrict what people can do and think, just as there are those in the Middle East and other parts of the world not generally regarded as part of the West, who wish to see their societies become more liberal and progressive. The struggle between liberalism and conservatism, progressivism and traditionalism has gone on for centuries, as the next few chapters briefly recount, and is far from over.

X. Religion, Identity, and Values Religion’s role has been stressed in providing explanations of causal relationships because this function best explains religion’s origin. The important contrast between religion and science turns on their differences in accounting for causal relationships. However, religions have other important attributes. Chief among these are that religion can be a determinant of an individual’s sense of self-identity, and form the basis of a person’s value system. Although religions certainly can and often do serve these functions, it must be stressed that neither can account for a religion’s coming into being. Members of a particular tribe did not sit down one day and say that they were lacking a sense of identity, and thus needed to create a set of beliefs about the world that was peculiar to their tribe. Its beliefs about the world emerged over time through chance events and inferences about causality that were in part unique to the tribe. Thus, eventually a sense of identity based on the tribe’s history and customs came into being. As myths regarding the causes of certain events, the roles of ancestors and spirits in the tribe’s life, and the rituals needed to engage in exchange with the spirits developed, they became part of the tribe’s culture and a determinant of its sense of identity. A local religion’s role in defining self-identity arises after or at best while its religion comes into existence for other reasons. Similarly, Mohammed did not recount his meetings with the archangel Gabriel and the messages that the angel brought, because he thought that the Arabs lacked a sense of identity. He thought that he was hearing the word of God and wished to bring the Arabs back to the one true religion. The Muslims’ sense of identity arose after the Arabs (and later other ethnic groups) accepted Mohammed’s teachings about God. As previously discussed, both local and universal religions contain strictures against antisocial actions like stealing and ways of rewarding pro-social

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actions. These obviously form a part of a religious community’s value system. Beyond these moral strictures, the value system of a community is shaped by its particular history and social and physical environment. A community with an extreme shortage of sources of protein that adopts human sacrifice and cannibalism as part of its religion acquires a different value system than one rich in protein, which can afford to sacrifice other types of animals. A religion that allows polygamy implies a different value system regarding the roles of men and women in society and family structure than one that demands monogamy. Such differences, like all religious differences, are determined by a combination of chance, past events, and the physical environment in which the society evolved. These historical differences lead to different sets of values and personal identities across societies that are partly reflected in and determined by their religious beliefs. Because our focus is on the relationship between religion and democracy, the obvious question arises as to whether a particular religious identity or value system is more or less conducive to the creation and maintenance of liberal democracy. Do religious values strengthen liberal democracy or undermine it? Do religious people make better citizens in a liberal democracy or worse? The answers to these questions are important in and of themselves, but they also have implications regarding the optimal relationship between church and state – a question that has been debated for centuries in Western Europe, and that we shall consider later in the book.

XI. Religion and Traditionalism All societies have their customs and traditions. American families gather to eat turkey at Thanksgiving because that is supposedly what the first pilgrims ate. Germans gather on New Year’s Eve to eat carp, because it is supposed to bring wealth. It is also customary in Germany to toss molten lead into cold water on New Year’s to predict the future from the shape that the lead takes on hitting the water. Such happenings with their associated traditions are harmless or even beneficial. Fond memories of earlier Thanksgivings and New Year’s Eve gatherings are kindled, and family ties are renewed. Other customs and traditions are less benign. Beliefs in the magical powers of gorillas’ paws and rhinoceroses’ horns have produced an industry of illegal poachers and traders and have sped along the extinction of these animals. The custom of female circumcision causes great pain to young girls and risks their lives.

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By there very nature religions are tradition-bound and conservative. The beliefs of a member of a local religion reflect the tribal myths handed down from one generation to the next. The beliefs of a member of a universal religion reflect hours of instruction and memorization of holy texts written centuries ago. Such reverence for the past makes it difficult for many people to have an open mind about present-day discoveries – particularly when they challenge aspects of religious teachings. Although there is a tension between scientific progress and nearly all forms of tradition, this conflict is particularly strong with respect to religion because of the intensity of many people’s religious beliefs. Few Germans today believe that they can predict the future from cooled lead in a pan of water, and those who still do could probably be made aware of the implausibility of this belief in a relatively short time. No amount of logical argument, on the other hand, can weaken some people’s beliefs in the virgin births of Jesus and Siddhartha. It is because of this steadfast resistance to logical argument and scientific evidence that we regard the conflict between modern, progressive societies and traditional societies as largely a conflict between science and reasoning on one side and religion on the other. As the following chapters show, this conflict is as old as recorded human history.

PART II

A HISTORICAL LOOK AT THE STATE, DEMOCRACY, AND RELIGION

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The First States

For the Lord will not forsake his people for his great name’s sake; because it hath pleased the Lord to make you his people. Moreover as for me [King Samuel], God forbid that I should sin against the Lord in ceasing to pray for you; but I will teach you the good and the right way; Only fear the Lord, and serve him in truth with all your heart; for consider how great things he hath done for you. But if ye shall still do wickedly; ye shall be consumed, both ye and your king. (1 Samuel, Chapter 12)

True democracies have been rare in history. Even today, when there are more countries under democratic rule than at any other time, at best half of the world’s population can be said to live in democracies. Thus, it is important to understand how and why democratic states come into being, and why they are so rare. This book does not purport to be a history of the state, and so our examination of state origins will be highly selective. The goal is to highlight the conditions that give rise to democratic states and contrast them with those associated with nondemocratic ones. Those wishing a fuller historical treatment of the state are encouraged to consult the resource on which I have heavily relied – S. E. Finer’s (1997) magisterial History of Government.

I. Tribal Societies As discussed in Chapter Two, the most important aspect of human evolution was the development of the brain. As it grew, humans became better able to cope with the environment in which they lived, and in particular to interact and cooperate with other humans so to better their survival rates. The narrowly selfish, nasty brute living in isolation that one might 79

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expect to find from Hobbes’s description of anarchy does not seem to have ever existed. Within the band or tribe in which early humans lived, theft and homicide appear to have been relatively rare. This is perhaps not very surprising, because a group in which stealing and murder were rife would not survive for very long. What is perhaps more surprising – at least to those weaned on models of humans as rational, selfish utility maximizers – is that sharing and cooperation within these early societies was quite common. Indeed, although sharing is rare among other primates, Wilson (1975, p. 551) regards it as one of man’s “strongest social traits.” Cosmides and Tooby (1992) describe the cooperative behavior that evolved in tribal societies as a kind of “social contract.” Hunter/gatherer societies have been egalitarian. In part, this is probably because they were nomadic and thus it was almost physically impossible to accumulate great amounts of property perhaps because of the effects of the sharing norms just discussed. Given their egalitarian character, one expects that their political structure – if this term is appropriate for a tribe or band – was democratic. Although it is impossible to know for sure, it seems most likely that some band of European hunters fifty thousand or so years ago, when confronted with the question of whether to hunt on the east side of a hill or on the west side, would have resolved the question with a show of hands. Taking a vote is such an obvious way to make a collective decision that its first application must have long predated Athenian democracy. Indeed, one wonders whether the widespread belief in the fairness of the simple majority rule might to some extent be hardwired as are other notions of fairness. With the increase in brain size came an increase in the capacity to reason and eventually the utilization of this capacity – the development of tools, language, and culture. It is possible that a dog looks at the sun and asks itself who made it, or asks, “Where did I come from?” Yet one suspects that it does not. As humans began to utilize their capacity to reason, they began to pose such questions. Once they invented language, they could ask these questions out loud and discuss them with their fellow tribe members. As we have seen, their first answers to these questions took the form of stories (myths) filled with spirits, ghosts, and gods. Each tribe had its own myths and gods. A tribe’s first myth, one assumes, was invented by a particularly bright and imaginative tribe member. If he was very good at inventing myths, he probably rose to a position of some status. If he was particularly entrepreneurial, he might begin to offer not only explanations for the past and present, but also predictions of the future. If one or more gods were part of his set of explanations, then he might begin to intervene between the tribe

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and the god(s), and to call forth spirits to try not only to predict the future but even to change it. In this way, we suspect, the medicine man, shaman, and eventually priest first came into existence, and religion was born.1

II. The Sumerian City-State As tribal societies evolved, some took on characteristics that are closer to what we associate with states. Chiefs became more like kings, and shamans and medicine men became more like priests. Because we have no written record of this period, however, it is difficult to single out the institutional innovations of particular tribes for special attention. Thus, most historians identify the birth of the state with the advent of writing at end of the fourth, beginning of the third millennium bce in Mesopotamia and Egypt. In this section we briefly overview the case of Mesopotamia.

A. Background As human society evolved, gathering nuts, fruits, berries, and the seeds of wild grains was supplemented and eventually replaced by domesticating grains; hunting wild animals gave way to herding domesticated ones. Evidence of grains being ground to make flour dates back to at least 23,000 bce, and was fairly common in the Fertile Crescent by the twelfth century.2 In the sixth millennium, a stocky, round-headed people with clipped hair and no beards lived in the highlands above the Fertile Crescent. These “Sumerians” survived by growing grains and herding domesticated animals. When their crops depleted the soil in one area, they moved on to a different one. At some time during the fifth or fourth millennia, they migrated into Mesopotamia, “the land between the two rivers,” the two rivers being the Tigris and Euphrates. The plains between these rivers flooded from time to time, depositing silt to replenish the soil. Thus, it was no longer necessary to migrate in search of fertile soil and the Sumerians settled in Mesopotamia.

B. Origin of the Sumerian City-State Mesopotamia was characterized by too much water when the floods came, and too little during the dry season – perfect conditions for irrigation 1

2

Ekelund and Tollison (2008), and Ekelund, Tollison, and Vasilescu (2008) emphasize the importance of entrepreneurship on the part of the apostles and priests in the spread of Christianity. Economist, August 7, 2004. All dates in this and the next three sections are bce.

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farming, and the Sumerians developed an elaborate irrigation system, the first of its kind in the world. An irrigation system is a form of public good from which all of the community benefits, but it could only be provided if the community coordinated its efforts and resources. It is a primary candidate for being the public good, which led to the creation of the Sumerian city-state. In early Sumerian society, men tended domesticated animals, and women took care of the crops. Herders have much time to contemplate the heavens, and thus it is not surprising that Sumerians developed both astrology and astronomy. They divided the constellations of stars into twelve parts, and it is to them that we owe the signs of the Zodiac, which many people still believe have predictive power. It is reasonable to assume, therefore, that at some point in time one or more of these heaven gazers noticed a relationship between the sun’s position in the sky and the onset of the floods and dry seasons. This knowledge would then become the foundation for regulating the availability of water for crops throughout the year. Political anthropologists and historians differ over how this innovation came into being. One group envisages an egalitarian, partially democratic tribal system of the type described earlier with an assembly of tribal members or elders collectively agreeing to introduce irrigation techniques. This interpretation nicely fits the kind of democratic leap from anarchy that has characterized the contractarian literature from Hobbes to the present. The second interpretation assumes a more hierarchically structured society. A priest class first took control of the process of cereal production. Among its priestly functions was the study of the stars. The priests used their knowledge of the stars to interpret and predict events on earth. The ideas underlying the introduction of irrigation would most likely have arisen among this professional class of heaven gazers, and they commanded that the innovation be introduced, supervised its introduction, and claimed all of the agricultural surplus that it generated. Any champion of democracy, contractarian or otherwise, would hope that the first interpretation is the correct one. Unfortunately, Finer claims, “It is not supported by the slightest shred of evidence,” and makes a very convincing case for the second interpretation.3 In any event, the characteristics of the Sumerian city-state in its developed form seem much more consistent with the second interpretation. 3

See Finer (1997, pp. 111–12) and references therein. Haas (1982) also contains an interesting discussion of the debate, describing it as one between liberals (conservative anthropologists) and Marxists.

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C. Characteristics of the Sumerian City-State4 One might expect that the bureaucracy governing the first-known state in history would be loosely organized and inefficient, and that the development of efficient, hierarchical bureaucratic structures would take centuries. Such was not the case. In the Sumerian city-states, bureaucracy was developed to a high degree and controlled nearly every aspect of economic and social life. The entire society shared a set of morals, beliefs, and expectations that were determined by their religion as interpreted by the class of priests. The state was an absolute monarchy with religion for an ideology. The king was god’s representative on earth, and immediately beneath him were the priests. Together they ran the state with the help of a fairly large bureaucracy and a small number of scribes. The role of the masses was to serve god, which in effect meant to serve the king. The power of the king was absolute. The economy was based on agriculture. The class of priests, with the help of the bureaucracy, directed the planting and harvesting of crops. Harvested crops were taken to the temples to be stored and redistributed. Outside of the class of priests there was no private ownership of land, nor much in the way of other private property.5 The Code of Hammurabi punishes theft so people must have had some private possessions, although this provision of the Code probably was also intended to punish stealing of grain from the state warehouses. The Sumerian economy was what we today call a command economy. The Sumerians invented writing. A large fraction of the early writing tablets that have been found contain counts of items traded or deposited in the state granaries.6 Without the aid of writing, it is unlikely that the Sumerian state could have grown to the size that it did, and to have survived as long as it did. The capability to read and write was confined to the ruling class of priests, and they used writing to direct and control the state.

D. Appraisal Carroll Quigley (1979, p. 193) described the Sumerians as “the most important group of humans who ever lived.” There is much evidence that can be garnered to back up this claim. In addition to an elaborate writing system, the Sumerians appear to have either invented or made important advances 4 5 6

The discussion in this and the next subsections draws heavily on Finer (1977, pp. 104–31) and McNeill (1963, pp. 18–166). Barzel (2002) argues that market exchange emerges very early in the evolution of states, but this was not the case in Sumer. Donald (1991, p. 285).

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in agriculture (irrigation, the plow, wheeled carts, draft animals), metallurgy (brass and copper smelting), pottery manufacturing (the potter’s wheel), transportation (the sail boat), astronomy, and of course, the state. The quality of the last invention is attested to by the length of time that the Sumerian city-state survived – anywhere from eight hundred to fifteen hundred years depending on one’s choice of starting and ending points.7 Finer (1997, p. 29) attributes longevity in a state to a congruence between a society’s belief system and its social and political structure. In the Sumerian city-state, this congruence was as close as it could possibly come. “In no other antique society did religion occupy such a prominent position . . . the religious ideas promoted by the Sumerians played an extraordinary part in the public and private life of the Mesopotamians, modeling their institutions, colouring their works of art and literature, pervading every form of activity.”8 Moreover, the Sumerian city-state’s disappearance came about not because of some internal breakdown, but because of the development of superior military power by its neighboring states. With the invention of writing came the first use of theoretical reasoning. Donald (1991, p. 340) speculates that “astronomy was probably the earliest example of widespread, socially important theoretic development in human history.” It involves data storage and the formation of mental models of time and space. The development of calendars and maps are also examples of early theoretical advances. However, by and large, the thought processes and inventions of the Sumerians, however remarkable they seem, do not reflect the kind of theoretical reasoning processes that we associate with modern science. One reason why the development of the theoretical mode of thinking was slow in Sumer may have been that the ability to read and write was confined to the relatively small ruling class of priests. They had a vested interest in keeping the Sumerian city-state at the mythical stage of development, where everyday life was dominated by religion. Keeping the mass of illiterate citizens at the mythical stage would have served the priests’ interests well. This structure – a small educated elite governing uneducated masses – repeats itself through most of history. The salient characteristics of the Sumerian city-state can be found in Egypt, Persia, and the other major states of the ancient world – monarchy, absolutism, a primary role for religion – and they will not, therefore, be 7 8

Finer (1997, 99, 127–8). Roux (1980, p. 91) as quoted in Finer (1997, p. 115).

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discussed here. One partial exception to this generalization is the Jewish state, and thus we pause briefly to consider its contribution to the development of political institutions.

III. The Jewish State A. Origin Like the Sumerian city-states, the Jewish state evolved from nomadic tribes that settled in particular areas and took up agriculture. With agriculture came an accumulation of wealth, and the need to defend this wealth from attacks from other tribes and states. Defense can be identified as the or at least a primary justification for the creation of the Jewish state and, indeed, all other ancient states in the Middle East. The defining moment in the creation of the Jewish people, if not the Jewish state, came following the exodus from Egypt. After enduring years of slavery, Moses led a band of Jews out of Egypt. Having been slaves for many years, they lacked a social structure and needed a moral code to establish social order and cohesion. This they obtained at Mount Sinai where Moses allegedly met with their god, Yahweh, who gave Moses a set of laws. The meeting at Mount Sinai established a covenant between Yahweh and the Jewish people, a covenant that would, in the minds of the Jews, come to set them apart from other peoples, a covenant that made them “God’s chosen people.” This covenant was not a social contract among equals, however, as conceived by Hobbes, Locke, and the other contractarians, but rather more of a feudal contract between the lord of the manor and his serfs, between the shepherd and his sheep. It defined the required conduct of the Jews, but placed no constraints or obligations on “the lawgiver.”9 As a god, Yahweh was typical of other gods of nomadic, hunting, maledominated societies – a masculine god of war. At first he competed with various feminine fertility goddesses found in the areas settled by the Jews and typical of agriculture societies. However, one of the commandments that Yahweh gave to Moses was that the Jewish people “should have no false idols before them.” Thus, as the Jews accumulated wealth and were continually forced to protect it in war, Yahweh, a god of war, grew in importance and his commandment forbidding false idols produced a monotheist religion.10 9 10

Finer (1997, p. 247). See discussion in McNeill (1963, pp. 158–62).

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B. Characteristics The Jewish state in full blossom was a monarchy, and in this respect resembled its neighbors. It was, however, the first limited monarchy, in that its citizens were obligated to obey the laws given to them by God. The king was not the lawgiver as in other states at that time – God was. In other states, laws were promulgated by the king or pharaoh, who was above the law. Jewish kings were not above God’s laws. Their authority was restricted to heading the state’s bureaucracy and leading their people in war. The king, aristocracy, priests, peasants, and slaves were all equally obligated to obey God’s laws. Thus, the Jewish state can rightfully be identified as the first state in which the rule of law as we think of it today existed. Everyone from king on down was subject to God’s laws. Equality under God and under the law led to a more egalitarian society than found in other contemporary states with a free peasantry.

C. Appraisal The history of the Jewish state is extremely short compared to that of Mesopotamia or Egypt, and it made no substantive innovations in the way of establishing democratic institutions. It remained more or less at the level of societies with mythic cultures. It was important, however, in establishing a form of separation of church and state for the first time. With respect to the laws governing human behaviour, it was a theocracy with God being the lawgiver, but in other matters it was a secular state with kings being free to do what they wished as long as they did not violate God’s laws. Finer (1997, p. 239) calls Judaism the first “historic religion” in contrast to the “archaic religions” of all previous states and of the Jewish state’s contemporaries. Under the archaic religions, the masses were not active participants in the religious rituals, but rather mere spectators observing the priests perform. Under Judaism, however, the masses became part of a congregation and were expected to participate actively. Moreover, each individual was directly accountable to God. In this respect, Judaism introduced an important element of individualism into the structure of society. The Jewish state vanished fairly quickly, and does not seem to have had a direct impact on the development of the Greek city-state or any of its other immediate followers. During the Middle Ages, however, the Bible and Old Testament were the most frequently read books in Europe. Jewish ideas of secular government, limited monarchy, and individualism then came

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to have an important influence on the development of Western political institutions.11

IV. The Chinese State The link between conservatism and autocracy is no better illustrated than in the Chinese state. Because our interest is in democratic institutions instead of autocratic ones, we devote little space to the Chinese state. Yet it is worth a brief look, because the absence of the characteristics that we deem essential for democracy is clearly there, and thus the importance of them is indirectly illustrated.

A. Origin of the State The Chinese state was formed in much the same way as the Sumerian state – by tribes migrating into a river valley, in this case the Yellow River. Although legends tell of great kings living in China before the Shang kingdom (1766– 1122, all dates in this section are bce), it was this one that invented writing and, thus, the history of the Chinese state begins with it. Cities also appeared during the Shang kingdom as did other inventions seen in the Sumerian city-state like bronze casting and the chariot.

B. Confucianism The “Spring and Autumn” period between 722 and 481 was one of considerable turmoil in China with continuous warfare among its various kingdoms. Apparently troubled by this instability, the scholar Confucius (551–479) wrote several texts that proffered advice as to how to end these conflicts. He then set out to visit the courts of different monarchies in an effort to sell his ideas. He does not appear to have had much success in his lifetime, but his teachings, along with those of his followers, did have great influence on later political leaders in China and the eventual structure of the Chinese state. Confucius’ main message was that the warring states had to reclaim or rediscover the wisdom of an earlier, idolized era. In a tradition-bound land characterized by ancestor worship, his message found a certain resonance. Finer (1997, pp. 458–9) identifies four main elements in Confucian thought: 11

Finer (1997, pp. 272–3).

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1. Mankind is divided into “superior” and “mean” men. Superior men follow what essentially amounts to the “golden rule” and cooperate with other men. Only by becoming a superior man does one become fully human. Everyone possesses the potential to become a superior man, but few realize this potential. 2. Men achieve their humanity through education. 3. The family is the supreme institution of society. Sons owe respect to their fathers; the wife to her husband; the younger brother to the older brother; the younger friend to the older friend; all family members owe respect to the ruler. 4. Good government is based on its having good rulers, not good laws. Good rulers are themselves virtuous and choose virtuous ministers. An implication of elements 1, 2, and 4 is that ministers should be chosen on the basis of their educational accomplishments, that is, that the ideal state should be a meritocracy.

C. Legalism A second reaction to the anarchy of the “Spring and Autumn” period was the development of legalism. Legalism was entirely antithetical to Confucianism. It derived no wisdom from the past and ridiculed filial duties. Legalists were: . . . forward-looking, practical and ruthless . . . [they] viewed the mass of humanity as irrevocably stupid and base and susceptible only to the carrot and the stick. Theirs is a philosophy of power vested in an absolute monarch who rules by severe punishments, through iron codes of law which apply to high and low alike, without any exceptions save the ruler himself, since he alone makes the law and therefore only he is dispensed from it. (Finer, 1997, pp. 466–7)

A more cynical view of human potential is difficult to imagine, and it led naturally enough to a philosophical underpinning for absolute despotism. The ruler was bound by neither law (because he made them) nor ethics (because ethics has nothing to do with politics). And what was to be the substance of the laws that the ruler promulgated? These were to be “directed solely at the benefit of the state as a whole.”12 Advice similar to that offered by the legalists would be offered to the prince some two thousand years later by Machiavelli. 12

Finer (1997, p. 468).

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D. The Han Empire The legalists’ advice was put into practice during the Ch’in state (361–206) from which China derives its name. Of more interest for us, however, is the Han Empire, which followed it and lasted more than four centuries because “the Han Empire . . . set the pattern for all future Chinese government up to and including the present day.”13 It established a large bureaucracy to administer a highly centralized state. In this its chief innovation was that the bureaucracy was filled with educated scholars. Here we see the influence of Confucianism. However, the empire also had a rigid and harsh legal code that reflected the influence of legalism and functioned as a two-stratum state. At the top were the educated bureaucrats, a kind of aristocracy of the intelligentsia. At the bottom were the illiterate masses deferring to those of rank and obeying the legal code. Each person knew her position in society, to whom she owed obedience, and who owed obedience to her. Thus, in its social and political structure the Chinese state, of which the Han Empire was the embodiment, can be classified as an “organic state” in which individuals qua individuals do not appear. In the Chinese state, “the prevalent belief systems, and the social structure all came to support one another as never since the high days of Mesopotamian and Egyptian government and emphatically as never in the West.”14 This mutual reinforcement of ideology and social and political structures explains the great longevity of the Chinese state, but also the total lack of democracy during its long history.

E. Appraisal The Chinese state in its various forms is in many ways as remarkable as that of Sumer. It also invented writing and made many other technological advances. Its art and literature reached high levels of artistic quality and sophistication. Its state apparatus was built on “the largest bureaucracy in human history,” and in terms of longevity, the Shang kingdom and Han Empire compare favorably with those in the West and in other parts of the world.15 At the same time, China never fulfilled the promise of its early history. In an influential essay, Mancur Olson (1993) described the rise of the state in China as occurring when “stationary bandits” replaced the kind 13 14 15

Finer (1997, p. 524). Finer (1997, p. 442). Donald (1991, p. 295).

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of “roving bandits” depicted in the film The Seven Samurai. Peasants have little incentive to accumulate stores of grain and other forms of wealth if a roving bandit can always come by and take it away from them. Stationary bandits allowed peasants to keep some of the wealth that they generated and thus provided them a greater incentive to invest in their land. The increased productivity of the land made both peasant and bandit/ruler better off. Peasantry and ruler settle into a form of partnership. Over time, roving bandits disappeared and so too wars between local rulers. Ironically, the ensuing stability may explain why China never achieved the potential of its early technological and administrative successes. While revolutions and civil wars can destroy property and lives, they also shake up class structures and present opportunities to innovators. As peace and prosperity settled into China, its innovative leadership disappeared, and its political institutions atrophied into bureaucratically run despotism.16 China is an archetypical traditionalist society.17 Homage is paid to the wisdom of the ancients; the wisdom of the elderly dominates the ideas of the young. The eldest member of a family receives the most respect. The emperor’s authority derives from both his ability to mete out rewards and punishments and the veneration traditionally due him because of his office. When one recognizes the important role played by iconoclasts and the young in advancing science, it is unsurprising that scientific progress lagged in a society such as China’s with its traditionalist bent. In the West, innovation is a bottom-up process driven by the curiosity of the scientist or inventor and the daring of the entrepreneur. In China, on the other hand, innovation has often been a top-down process with the state introducing the innovations. The inherent conservatism of a bureaucratic state would have been a further hindrance to innovation in China. Thus, the weight of traditionalism on China prevented it from following up on its many, early technological advances and developing into a modern, progressive state with a thriving scientific community. An important handicap to the development of democracy in China, if not to science, was the form of writing it invented. Chinese writing consists of thousands of ideograms and unlike Western and most other languages, is not truly phonetic. Learning how to write in Chinese is thus a long process, and has historically been restricted to a small elite. A large illiterate population is not a fertile ground for the development of democratic institutions. 16 17

Pagden (2008, pp. 298–302). As, for example, defined by Horton (1982).

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V. Conclusions Sumer, Egypt, Persia, China, and some of the other empires of the ancient world made many important and sometimes amazing technological and social innovations. Some of their surviving works of art and architecture – like the pyramids of Egypt – inspire awe even today. The most important innovation of this time for the future of human society, however, was without question the invention of writing. Although first invented as a tool for keeping records of transactions as an aid to accounting, it eventually became an aid to reasoning and allowed humans to construct abstract theoretical models. First, signs of this potential use of theoretical reasoning can be seen in the astronomical charts, clocks, and maps that were developed in these ancient societies to improve agriculture, navigation, and of course, warfare. However, a realization of the full potential of man’s powers of reason would have to await the appearance of the Greek city-states – so too would the appearance of democracy. Most of the ancient empires might well be characterized as theocracies. An emperor or pharaoh is either a god himself or the emissary of the gods. He and his band of priests both govern the state and serve as intermediaries between the gods and the citizen masses. The latter can scarcely be called citizens under the modern interpretation of this concept, because they possessed little in the way of rights and no institutions through which they could express their preferences about what the state should be doing. Thus, everyday life and beliefs in the first states were, except for a privileged few, not much different after the invention of writing than before. Myths and religious beliefs played dominant roles in everyday life, and the class of priests could be relied on to predict the future, produce good harvests, and make sure that one enjoyed a good time in the afterlife. An important exception to this pattern was China. Although the basic social structure in China was similar to that in Sumer, Egypt, and Persia – a despot at the top, a ruling, educated elite immediately beneath him, and a mass of illiterate subjects at the bottom – it differed from these other states in that religion did not play the kind of legitimating role that it did in the other empires. Confucianism and legalism do not posit the existence of supernatural agents and an afterlife, and thus do not qualify as religions as we have defined them. They do represent systems of values, however, and certainly helped to shape the Chinese sense of identity. Confucianism and legalism preached honor and obedience to the ancients, one’s elders, and most of all to the emperor, and thereby made China a traditionalist society, like

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Sumer, Egypt, and the other states where religion underpinned the power of the rulers. Instead of priests, the Chinese emperor ruled with the help of an educated intelligentsia, who manned the great bureaucracy that defined the Chinese state. How different this state was from the ones that grew up in Greece.

FIVE

Athens and Rome

The only good is knowledge and the only evil is ignorance. (Socrates) We are lovers of beauty without extravagance, and lovers of wisdom without unmanliness. Wealth to us is not mere material for vainglory but an opportunity for achievement; and poverty we think is no disgrace to acknowledge but a real degradation to make no effort to overcome. Our citizens attend both to public and private duties, and do not allow absorption in their own various affairs to interfere with their knowledge of the city’s. We differ from other states in regarding the man who holds aloof from public life not as “quiet” but as useless; we decide or debate, carefully and in person, all matters of policy, holding, not that words and deeds go ill together, but that acts are foredoomed to failure when undertaken undiscussed. For we are noted for being at once most adventurous in action and most reflective beforehand. (Pericles as presented in Thucydides, 1943, p. 113)

Starting about 800 bce, a society emerged around the Aegean Sea unlike any before it, a society that “had a totally new conception of what human life was for, and showed for the first time what the human mind was for.”1 It organized itself into city-states, but except for their territoriality, they bore no resemblance to the city-states of Mesopotamia. They were democratic to a degree unknown until that time and almost unknown since. As such, they contain important lessons for every student of democracy. In a meaningful sense, the city-state can be said to be the most important innovation of the Ancient Greeks. It was not simply a set of institutions by which the Greeks organized their political life; it shaped and defined all aspects of their everyday life – political, economic, social, and cultural. “The city-state was the means by which the Greek consciously strove to make the 1

Kitto (1957, p. 7).

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life both of the community and of the individual more excellent than it was before.”2 This goal for the city-state resembles that set forth for the state in Chapter One – advancing the interests of all of its members. As noted there, the word interests need not – and by me certainly is not – interpreted to mean narrow, material interests. If individuals have lofty goals, then the state should help them achieve these goals. By today’s standards, the Greeks had very lofty goals. “Excellence to the Greek, aretˆe, meant excelling in intellectual, physical, practical, and moral activities, it meant achieving the utmost of man’s potential as man.”3 In this chapter, we review the history and accomplishments of the Greeks and describe the democratic institutions that they created. We then very briefly turn to a discussion of the Roman Empire and its institutions.

I. The Greek City-State – Background As with other ancient civilizations, Greek society was formed by migrating bands that probably arrived in the Balkan Peninsula around 2000 bce.4 Over the next few centuries, the Mycenaean Empire arose, whose archaeological remains suggest strongly fortified cities with a warlike people. The Mycenae was invaded by Doric Greeks probably as early as 1200 and fully concurred by them by around 1100, after which a “Dark Ages” ensued for roughly three centuries. The area occupied by the Greeks consisted of many islands, and even the mainland was broken up into pockets of inhabitable, arable land by its mountains, water, and rocky terrain. Thus, the physical characteristics of the area occupied by the Greeks favored the development of small, isolated, fairly autonomous communities, much as the mountains and valleys of Switzerland were to do centuries later. It is not surprising, therefore, that the Greek states were small in both geographic expanse and population. Geographic differences help explain why some city-states like Athens became democracies and others like Sparta remained autocracies. The dry, hilly, rocky terrain around Athens favored growing olives. Yields from olive trees vary greatly depending on labor inputs. Thus, there were high payoffs in Athens to providing farmers with strong incentives for putting effort into tending olive trees. Such efforts could be forthcoming if individual farmers had rights to specific pieces of property and the products of their efforts. To secure these rights, it was necessary to share political power with the 2 3 4

Kitto (1957, p. 11). Kitto (1957, pp. 171–2). All future dates referring to Greece in this chapter are bce.

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citizens. Thus, property rights and the suffrage of citizen-farmers emerged in Athens in part because of the physical characteristics of the land and the type of economic activity that they fostered.5 In contrast, the fertile plains surrounding Sparta lent themselves to large grain farms worked by disenfranchised serfs whose efforts could be easily monitored. Sparta thus remained an oligarchy run by rich owners of large estates, whereas Athens resembled more closely a community of yeomen farmers. The more egalitarian distribution of income that emerged in Athens because of its terrain and mode of agricultural production is also consistent with Boix’s (2003) thesis that democracy only emerges in communities with fairly egalitarian distributions of wealth. In Athens, citizenship carried with it the obligation to equip oneself as a soldier and fight in battle. The possession of property by the citizens added to their incentive to fight to defend Athens or add to its wealth and territory. Indeed, the emergence of individual property rights probably increased the sense of territoriality among the Athenians, which became very important in the development of their concept of citizenship.6 Because our focus is on democratic institutions, we concentrate on the Athenian city-state’s salient features when describing the political institutions of Ancient Greece. However, first let us review its intellectual accomplishments and the role of religion in Greek society.

II. The Birth of Science and Reasoning Between 1100 and 700, the Greeks acquired their alphabet through trade with the Phoenicians. It consisted of twenty-two consonants. The Greeks supplemented these with symbols for vowels, added three new consonants, and created the first truly phonetic script. This first Greek alphabet would become the basis for all later Indo-European alphabets. The invention of the phonetic alphabet reduced the memory load imposed by reading skill and allowed a much wider diffusion of literacy. Instead of remembering six or seven hundred hieroglyphs or cuneiforms, or several thousand ideograms, the reader of the early Greek alphabet could achieve literacy with about two dozen phonograms, or letters. The main advantage of the alphabet was the economy and precision with which it allowed the reader to map visual displays of symbols onto spoken language . . . Judging from the measurable success of writing systems – ease 5 6

See Fleck and Hanssen (2006). Lyttkens (2006) emphasizes the importance of the emergence of territorial boundaries and territorial identifications in the development of legal and political institutions in the Greek city-states.

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of use, speed, and popularity – the alphabet is by far the most successful method of writing ever invented. (Donald, 1991, pp. 297–8)

Thus, although the Greeks did not invent writing and external storage systems, their alphabet allowed them to enter and retrieve items from external storage much more quickly and easily. This in turn allowed them to greatly expand the content of these external storage systems and to develop the theoretic attitude. Until writing could be combined with other visual symbolic media, the theoretic attitude, that is, the deliberate analytic use of symbolic thought, had little chance to develop. Ancient Greece, from around 700 b.c., was undoubtedly the birthplace of theoretic civilization. In Greece, human thought suddenly came into its own simultaneously in a number of fields: philosophy, mathematics, geometry, biology, and geography to name a few . . . In effect, the Greeks were the first to fully exploit the new cognitive architecture that had been made possible by visual symbolism . . . The critical innovation was the simple habit of recording speculative ideas – that is, of externalizing the process of oral commentary of events. Undoubtedly, the Greeks had brilliant forebears in Mesopotamia, China, and Egypt, but none of these civilizations developed the habit of recording the verbalizations and speculations, the oral discourses revealing the process itself in action. The great discovery here was that, by entering ideas, even incomplete ideas, into the public record, they could later be improved and refined. Written literature for the first time contained long tracks of speculation – often very loose speculation – on a variety of fundamental questions. The very existence of these books meant that ideas were being stored and transmitted in a more robust, permanent form than was possible in an oral tradition. Ideas on every subject, from law and morality to the structure of the universe, were written down, studied by generations of students, and debated, refined, and modified. A collective process of examination, creation, and verification was founded. The process was taken out of biological memory and placed in the public arena, out there in the media and structure of the ESS [external storage system]. What the Greeks created was much more than a symbolic invention, like the alphabet, or a specific external memory medium, such as improved paper or printing. They founded the process of externally encoded cognitive exchange and discovery. (Donald, 1991, pp. 340–3, emphasis in original)

The collective process of accumulating knowledge invented by the Greeks is perhaps most transparent and best known to us from the dialectics employed by Aristotle, Plato, and the other great Greek philosophers. Rhetoric, a particular form of search for knowledge, can also be included in the list of Greek inventions, and their philosophers used it to great effect. The “collective process of examination, creation, and verification” also constitutes the basis of scientific method, which was first employed on a wide and systematic scale by the Greeks. This development was greatly facilitated because “the process of demythologization was well advanced

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in Greece, perhaps more so than in any society until two millennia later, during the European Enlightenment.”7 At last, scientific thought reached a climax with the brilliant intellectual freedom of Greece. The Greek mind was remarkably free of transcendental restrictions, which would reserve hazy areas to mysterious action of the gods. The Greeks lived in the here and now, in a lucid world open to human action and human perception; their gods on Olympus were part of the Greek landscape and Greek life, an intimate part of their cultural scenery. The feeling of powerless before the elementary forces of nature was lifted. The observation of nature became imbued with a pantheistic sense of poetry; science became a facet of philosophical thought. The leap from the mythological cultures of the ancient East to the world-minded Greek culture raised science from a level of scattered empirical observations to the order of a consistent natural philosophy, with cosmology its main object. The Greek mind was the first to replace a mythical, or religious, view of the cosmos with rational interpretations; the first therewith to expand the scope of science to the dimensions of the universe. In this sense, the popular idea that science began with the Greeks is justified. Even if respectable though scattered beginnings [what Mokyr (2002, pp. 18–19) refers to as “singletons”] had preceded the Greeks by some three thousand years, we may think of Greek science as the first systematic and inclusive attempt to explain the entire natural cosmos. (Goldstein, 1995, pp. 45–6)

Goldstein’s observation is nicely illustrated in the work of Thales. The “Greeks, practical men that they were, had a passion for asking useless questions.”8 Where did we come from? What is the world made of? What is virtue? Truth? Although other peoples had posed such questions before, none had posed so many or pursued the answers as far as the Greeks. Thales was one of those who posed in typical Greek style the question, “What is the world made of?” The answer he gave to this question “was based on nothing but abstract reasoning . . . [completely free] from any form of religious mysticism, such as one might reasonably expect from a thinker whose predecessors had all expressed themselves in mythological terms.”9 “As he saw it, cosmos and earth had been formed by a natural process, no longer through an act of the gods.”10 Even if we do not today accept Thales’ answer – that the whole world was made of water – his method for finding the answer is still in use today. Thus, the distinguishing feature of the Greeks might well have been their “firm belief in Reason.”11 In Ancient Greece, rational thought moved to 7 8 9 10 11

Donald (1991, p. 342). Kitto (1957, p. 178). Kitto (1957, pp. 179–80). Goldstein (1995, p. 49). Kitto (1957, p. 176).

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center stage. We can identify the development of two quite different variants of rational thought processes in Greece, variants that continue to exist and to divide scholars to the present day. The first was a faith in the power of pure a priori reasoning. They believed that truth can be found by reasoning alone; knowledge gained from the senses or from observing the real world would only lead one away from the truth. Underlying the apparent complexity and variety observed in the real world lay a few, simple universal laws that, when understood, explained the workings of the universe. This line of reasoning led to the development of both metaphysics and mathematics and to major contributions in each. One need only mention the names of a few proponents of this approach – Euclid, Zeno, Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato – to realize the extent of its development and the importance of its contributions. Abstract reasoning was carried to its extreme limits by Pythagoras and his followers. Pythagoras saw an intrinsic natural order in the world, an order that took a mathematical form. His vision of the world was one of “a mathematically structured cosmos, evolving according to basically simple laws of inner and outer harmony; a cosmic projection of the Greek sense of the underlying dynamic harmony of all being.”12 Goldstein goes on to observe that “Pythagoras’ vision of the world . . . has influenced our thinking to this day.” Although pure a priori reasoning can take one to heights that an empiricist could never reach, a wrong turn along a logical path can also lead one far astray. To give but one example, having discovered a relationship between sound and numbers, namely that a note one octave above another was created by a string half as long as that creating the first note, the Pythagoreans jumped to the conclusion that there must be a mathematical basis for everything – the universe, art, sculpture, even religion and morality. Thus, the Good became the number one, Justice four, and other moral concepts appeared as higher squares of whole numbers. The other variant of a rational thought process that can be attributed to the Greeks is what we call today scientific method – a succession of hypothesis formulation, testing, reformulation, and further testing – logical inference informed by observing and gathering data from the real world. The word hypothesis is appropriately of Greek origin. This form of reasoning comes closest to that previously described by Merlin Donald. The first name here would, of course, be Aristotle, but we might also mention the great 12

Goldstein (1995, p. 54).

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mathematician Archimedes. Even if we do not accept the story of his testing his famous principle of buoyancy by hopping into a bathtub, the usefulness of the inventions that followed from his ideas, like the Archimedes’ screw, suggests a concern on his part with more than just the elegance of a mathematical proof. Thus, at the head of the list of the innovations owed to the Ancient Greeks must go the process of logical reasoning. The Greeks posed the most profound questions that mankind faces, and then went about answering them unencumbered by the superstitions and myths that previous societies had relied on for answers. Although not all of the answers that they came up with have stood the test of time, their methods of finding them certainly have.

III. The Role of Religion in Greece In politics, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, art, and literature, the Greeks produced giants whose stature remains undiminished even today. Yet its religion was a pygmy by modern standards. How could a people who produced an Aristotle and Plato adhere to an animistic polytheism filled with preposterous myths? Why was some form of monotheism not invented by the Greeks? It would take us too far afield to try to offer full answers to these questions, but because the tension between religion and democracy is one of the issues raised in this book, the questions cannot simply be ignored. The Greeks’ polytheism is easy to explain. They were an amalgam of different peoples and had simply appropriated the various gods of the peoples absorbed into their culture. Because they had no overarching religion, the Greeks found it easy to abandon or neglect religion. We have already emphasized the Greeks’ inquisitive nature. The myths and their associated gods offered answers to questions concerning the origin of the Greeks, the sun and the sea. At the beginning of their history these answers might have satisfied most Greeks, but as their powers of reasoning developed, they would prove less and less satisfactory. Here we might cite again the example of Thales. A Greek god was not a Supreme Being who could do no wrong and had to be obeyed unquestioningly. Greek gods were bigger-than-life humans with the same passions and foibles as humans. Because they were human-like, their actions could be measured by the same powers of reasoning as applied to man. “This form of religion induced the thinking Greek into something that Egyptians, Sumerians, Babylonians, Assyrians, and Jews were

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incapable of: applying rational and indeed secular calculation to nature and to man himself.”13 Greek religion reflected human weaknesses. It provided the Greeks with a theology of sorts, but unlike Judaism, not with a morality. Therefore, the Greeks did not turn to the gods for moral guidance because they were incapable of providing it. Nor could they turn to an organized priesthood, for there was none. They had to provide answers to the great moral questions themselves with the help of great thinkers like Homer, Aeschylus, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. In this respect, it is legitimate to call Athens a secular state because religion played no role in its public decisions. The Greeks would turn to the gods for help in battle after they had decided to go to war, but the decision to go to battle they made themselves in the assembly in which all citizens could and which a majority did participate. Nevertheless, myths and superstitions die hard in all societies, and this was true even of Ancient Greece. For example, Hippocrates, the founder of professional medicine, had to struggle to separate the teaching of medicine from religion at his school in Cos as late as the fourth century bce.14 The unimportance of religion in Greek life is perhaps best symbolized by Pericles’ funeral oration to celebrate the memory of those fallen in battle. On such an occasion today, no American politician and most likely no European politician could refrain from making references to God and beliefs that the souls of the departed find peace in Heaven. In the more than seven pages that Thucydides devotes to Pericles’ oration, there is not one reference to any gods or to an afterlife. Instead, Pericles chooses the occasion to describe Athenian society and contrast it with Sparta and its other neighbors. He explains to those gathered to mourn the dead what it was they died for: Therefore I do not mourn with the parents of the dead who are here with us. I will rather comfort them. For they know that they have been born into a world of manifold chances and that he is to be accounted happy to whom the best lot falls – the best sorrow, such as yours to-day, or the best death, such as fell to these, for whom life and happiness were cut to the same measure. (Thucydides, 1943, p. 116)

IV. Politics in Greece A. Structural Characteristics Throughout its history, the Greek state consisted of three strata:15 13 14 15

Finer (1997, p. 328). Donald (1991, p. 342). See Finer (1997, pp. 330–1).

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Table 5.1. Structural characteristics of the Greek state Structure of the Greek state Homeric times King (basileus) Council of elders (gerontes) Assembly of warriors (agora)

Fifth century Magistrate Elected council (boule) Assembly of citizens

At first kingship was hereditary, and the council of elders were members of the aristocracy. Over time, the hereditary king was replaced by elected “tyrants” and eventually by magistrates who served for one year and were usually selected by lot except where expertise was important, as with generals and admirals, who were elected. The first major step toward democracy in Greece was Solon’s freeing the serfs in 594. This action turned Attica into a land of small landholders, and produced a relatively even distribution of wealth across the area, thereby producing Boix’s (2003) key prerequisite for democracy. Although slavery existed in Greece, it did not take the form of the large latifunda worked by slaves in the Roman Empire, or the plantations of the Old South in the United States. Keeping slaves to work the small plots of land that each citizen owned was uneconomical, because the slaves would eat as much food as they could grow. Each citizen owned only a few slaves and typically used them as house servants.16 Once they became landowners, the citizens of Athens had something to protect against – foreign invasion. Each citizen knew that the defense of Athens and his property depended on his willingness to defend it, and thus the link between citizenship and serving in the military developed with the Solon reforms. An additional reform of Solon was to create a council of four hundred to prepare business for the popular assembly, a reform that Hornblower (1992, pp. 4–5) designates as the first political innovation in European history.

B. The Cleisthenes’ Reforms The Athenian city-state of the fifth century is not only the first example of a true democracy, it is the first and to this day one of the few examples of a set of political institutions consciously designed and created to achieve a democratic objective. During the seventh and sixth centuries, Athens was 16

Kitto (1957, pp. 131–2).

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ruled in turn by various tyrants and aristocratic oligarchies. As wealth accumulated, different factions formed among the aristocracy based on tribal lineage, geographic location, or occupation. These factions engaged in the kinds of distributional struggles that James Madison described so well in Federalist 10. Today we would call these factions rent-seeking coalitions. Toward the end of the sixth century, Cleisthenes – himself an aristocrat – put an end to the divisive rent seeking “by inventing a preposterous paperconstitution which in fact worked perfectly.”17 The genius in Cleisthenes’ design was to break up the existing coalitions into ten divisions (phylae) that cut across the previous ethnic, economic, and geographic lines. In turn, each phyle was broken into several smaller units called deme. Citizenship was largely based on heredity but was not automatic. Citizenship was granted first of all in the deme and then extended to the polity as a whole, and thus, because of their small number, members of a deme could easily determine whether a son of one of its members deserved citizenship on reaching age eighteen. Each phyle was named after an Athenian hero, had its own corporate identity, its own source of revenue from rents, and its own assembly.18 Thus, Cleisthenes’ constitution introduced a decentralized structure, which gave each citizen a strong incentive to participate in the democratic process. Moreover, because membership in a phyle cut across ethnic, class, economic, and geographic lines, each citizen’s welfare was tied to that of the greater community rather than to a narrowly defined faction or interest group. “A new Kleisthenic tribe was not a bunch of docile voters in the pocket of a great family; instead, it was a chimera, made up of bits from the three regional parts of Attica, and so much harder to bribe or coerce. Its members trained as soldiers together, they might act together as a pressure group in the law courts, and they served together as ‘tribe in prytany’ for an annual month of presidency over the assembly.”19 Thus, Cleisthenes’ constitution changed individual incentives away from zero-sum redistributions of wealth to positive sum improvements in the general welfare.20 Under Cleisthenes’ constitution, the assembly of citizens was the main decision-making body, with the council still playing an agenda-setting role. The council then had five hundred members selected by lot, fifty from each

17 18 19 20

Kitto (1957, p. 106). Finer (1997, p. 344). See Hornblower (1992, p. 9). The literature seems to be equally divided about whether the great Greek reformer’s name should be written with a C or a K. Pagden (2008, pp. 17–18).

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of the ten phylae into which the polity was divided. Every citizen had the obligation to attend assembly meetings, although not all did. In principle, every citizen could be selected to serve in the council for a year or to be a magistrate for a year. The assembly met only from time to time, but the council was in continual session. Each day it elected one of its members to be its foreman, which was equivalent to being the president of the republic. He would preside over the council’s meeting or, if the assembly was in session, the assembly. Thus, every citizen of Athens had the possibility of being the president of the republic, and many over the course of their lifetimes assumed this role. The Athenians were also the first to introduce term limits, and of a most stringent form. An elected foreman served for only one day and could never be reelected – such was the fear of the Athenians at the peak of their democratic era of leaders usurping power. The structure of the Council of Five Hundred was the key to Cleisthenes’ reforms. “The Council of Five Hundred was a way of involving all of Attica in decision-making, not just the city population which found it easiest to attend political meetings. The words for the regional equality thus produced was [sic] isegoria or ‘equality of speaking’ (in the council, that is). That word, and perhaps demokratia (quite literally, ‘people-power’), are the only slogans we can associate with Kleithenes himself . . . ”21

C. Citizenship Like the Hebrews, the Greeks thought of themselves as different from all other peoples, different not in the sense that they had a privileged relationship to God, but in the sense that they had a privileged relationship to one another – they were Greeks and not barbarians (non-Greeks). And what was distinctive about being a Greek? He was a free man, free not necessarily in living in a democracy, but in the sense of being a citizen who had certain rights who was ruled by laws. “Greek Tragedy is built on the faith that in human affairs it is Law that reigns, not chance.”22 Moreover, the laws that reigned were not dictated from above by a god or sacred king, but arose from the collective decisions of the citizens themselves. The Greek citizen was free to seek redress from the courts if he felt that he had been injured, and defend himself in front of the courts if he was accused of injuring someone. And there he would be tried by juries of his citizen peers.23 21 22 23

Hornblower (1992, p. 8). Kitto (1957, p. 176). See Kitto (1957, pp. 7–9) and Finer (1997, pp. 354–7).

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The purpose of the polis was to express and secure the good of its citizens.24 The polis was a boundary. The word itself derives from a root meaning “wall.” This boundary was not merely a mark of security from external coercion . . . at Athens the creation of the boundary was directed inward, spurred by the need to institutionalize an intention not to practise or be subject to coercion. The ancient polis created a space between slavery and tyranny. This was not, as Plato’s Glaucon suggests, a cynical compromise, but a glorious achievement. The boundary that distinguished citizen (polites) from noncitizen marked out a realm of personal efficacy, order, and relative equality. Slavery and tyranny were genuine threats. Citizenship in the polis offered tangible benefits: freedom, the security of one’s own good, the opportunity to win honour by guiding and defending the community. The polis was an instrument of justice; the rule of law was meant to ensure that each man received his due. Politics was the expression of the freedom to participate in ordering one’s own life, a freedom denied to women or slaves and unavailable to indentured peasants. The polis was quite literally the guarantor and the boundary of this freedom. By its very nature, then, citizenship in the polis was both intimately connected to personal well-being and discontinuous with personal characteristics. Political status abstracted from personal attributes, including one’s place in a social or economic hierarchy. The citizen occupied a place formally set off from the household world of production and reproduction inhabited by slaves and women. (Farrar, 1992, pp. 18–19)

No people have ever taken citizenship more seriously than the Greeks.25 The same word, politeia, stood for citizenship, the body of all citizens, and the constitution. State and citizens were synonymous; the quality of the state (polis) depended on the quality of the citizens. To the Greek rhetorician Isoscrates, this symbiosis between citizenship and constitution was the soul of the polis.26 Greeks cherished their citizenship and did not bestow it lightly, at least when Greek democracy was most vibrant. Citizenship could be withdrawn in toto or in part by taking away some of a citizen’s rights. Thus, several levels of citizenship existed, with the highest level carrying with it the right to participate in the public assembly and hold public office. Sons of Greek citizens would generally become citizens in time, but this was not automatic. Foreigners could acquire citizenship by service to the state. Even slaves were sometimes granted citizenship in exchange for fighting in a war. Citizenship carried with it the obligation to serve in the 24 25 26

Farrar (1992, p. 17). The discussion in the next few paragraphs draws heavily from Ehrenberg (1969, pp. 38–48), and MacDowell (1978, pp. 67–83). See also Kitto (1957). Isocrates (1929, VII at 13, 14).

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military, and to equip oneself for battle. Thus, in Ancient Greece, soldier and citizen were one. This link helps explain why women were not citizens – they did not serve as soldiers. Therefore, in Athens obligations to the state and benefits from it were closely entwined. Being a Greek meant being a citizen with all of the rights and obligations that this implied. This aspect of Greek citizenship is nicely illustrated in the following passage from the same funeral oration quoted earlier, as attributed to Pericles by Thucydides (1943, II, §37). For our government is not copied from those of our neighbors: we are an example to them rather than they to us. Our constitution is named a democracy, because it is in the hands not of the few but of the many. But our laws secure equal justice for all in their private disputes, and our public opinion welcomes and honours talent in every branch of achievement, not for any sectional reason but on grounds of excellence alone. And as we give free play to all in our public life, so we carry the same spirit into to our daily relations with one another. We have no black looks or angry words for our neighbor if he enjoys himself in his own way, and we abstain from the little acts of churlishness, though they leave no mark, yet cause annoyance to whoso notes them. Open and friendly in our private intercourse, in our public acts we keep strictly within the control of law. We acknowledge the restraint of reverence; we are obedient to whomsoever is set in authority, and to the laws, more especially to those which offer protection to the oppressed and those unwritten ordinances whose transgression brings admitted shame.

What is particularly striking in this paragraph is the way Pericles intertwines Athens’ democratic institutions and its cultural traits that, by implication, both foster and are fostered by them. No distinction was made between a citizen’s private and public life, as the quotation that opens this chapter makes clear. The “man who holds aloof from public life” was regarded as “useless.”27 Contained in this notion of citizenship was the assumption that a citizen was capable of exercising his public duties. This assumption was explicit in the obligation to serve in the military and to be able to equip oneself for battle, but was also implicit in the obligation to serve in the assembly or the Council of Five Hundred – and to do so intelligently and conscientiously. Thus, implicit in the notion of Greek citizenship, and the creation of Greek democracy was an assumption that citizens had the capacity to not only make decisions for themselves in their private lives but also for the community. Moreover, collective decisions would seek to promote the good of the community. Thus, it is no coincidence that democracy first appears in the first society capable of engaging in the kind of rational thinking associated 27

Thucydides (1943, p. 113).

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with modern science and, more generally, modernity. It was also no coincidence that this society invented an alphabet, which extended to a far greater fraction of the population the power to acquire knowledge. At its zenith, Athenian democracy came as close to embodying the fundamental attributes of democracy as any political system has. What we should learn from this first flowering of democracy is that good government does not come cheaply. It requires the active participation of a body of citizens who possess the knowledge and mental capacity to carry out their responsibilities as citizens, and who are willing to bear the costs in time, money, and energy of discharging these responsibilities.

V. Appraisal of the Contributions of Ancient Greece “This [the Greek] polity is extraordinary. It was a miracle of ingenuity and design, one of the most successful, perhaps the most successful, of political artefacts in the history of government.”28 It is difficult not to share Finer’s judgment. When one contemplates the Greeks’ contributions to architecture, astronomy, mathematics, philosophy, science, sculpture, the arts in general, and theater, one stands in awe. All of these came about because for the first time in human history man’s mind was freed from superstition to follow whatever path it chose. Of all the Greek gifts to mankind, perhaps the most important was the demonstration of the human potential for rational thought, the power of reason. Nowhere is this power more evident than in Cleisthenes’ constitution: an “artefact” of the mind that transformed a society of rent seekers into the first and, until today, one of the most successful democracies of all time. Here it is worth correcting an error that many, including James Madison, seem to have made about Athenian democracy. “Hence it is that such [pure] democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths.”29 In Athens, however, taxation was by modern standards quite light and such major redistribution measures as canceling debts or redistributing land were never “even contemplated there.”30 Madison was grossly in error, therefore, if he had Athens in mind when he castigated pure democracies. 28 29 30

Finer (1997, pp. 367–8). Madison (1937, p. 58). Finer (1997, pp. 364–5).

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Nor can one claim that the Athenian democracy was short-lived. It survived with two brief interruptions from 510 to 322 – longer than any of today’s Western democracies save for the United States. Moreover, it perished not because of internal strife and turbulence caused by the excesses of a raving, democratic mob, but because the Athenian city-state, despite its many virtues as a place to live, was too small to defend itself against its neighbors.31 The last point to stress is the Greeks’ great optimism – optimism about man’s capacity to reason and optimism about the potential for selfgovernment. Where today suggestions to adopt novel political institutions tend to be treated with much scepticism – particularly among political scientists – for the Greeks the novelty of Cleisthenes’ constitution was, if anything, a point in its favor, such was the confidence of the Greeks in the creative powers of the human mind and enthusiasm for what was new.32 Such optimism tends to be associated with liberalism, as this term is used today in the United States or to some extent as it was used in Europe in the nineteenth century. Liberals are optimistic about man’s capacity to reason, and thus tend to be optimistic about the future outcomes that will come from democratic action. They are the progressives in Horton’s (1982) dichotomy. Conservatives, on the other hand, are traditionalists, pessimistic about man’s capacity to reason and thus fear the outcomes that will come from democratic action.33 Thus, one can associate optimism about human nature with liberalism, which in turn is associated with support for (belief in) democratic institutions. Conservatism, on the other hand, is associated with a pessimistic outlook regarding man’s capacities and support for more authoritarian political structures. Cleisthenes and Pericles symbolize the liberal democrat in Ancient Athens: Plato, the conservative, autocratic mind-set.34

VI. Rome In many ways, Rome surpassed the Greek city-states in both its achievements during its existence and in its influence on Europe’s future development. At its peak, the Roman Empire stretched from the Iberian Peninsula in the west 31 32 33 34

Finer (1997, pp. 347–8, 367–8). Kitto (1957, pp. 106–7). For further discussion of the links between optimism and liberalism, and pessimism and conservatism, see Mueller (1990, pp. 423–7). Karl Popper (1945) most famously exposes the authoritarianism of Plato, although one can argue that Popper’s objectivity was distorted by the world events at the time that he wrote.

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to the British Isles in the North, as far east as the Caspian Sea and around the eastern part of the Mediterranean across northern Africa. It gave birth to Christianity, which became the religion of the West. In part because of the spread of Christianity, the Roman language – Latin – also became the common language of scholars for more than a millennium and the foundation for the Romance languages. Our interest is in the development of rational thinking, however, and its relationship to democracy. In these areas, Rome’s accomplishments are much more modest. The leap from a mythical to a theoretical culture had already been made by the Greeks. Rome had some great minds in the fields of history and rhetoric – Cato, Cicero, Polybius, and Plutarch to mention a few. However, the Greeks invented the fields of history and rhetoric, and the great Roman thinkers did not eclipse Thucydides, Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato. Rome never became nor ever attempted to be a democracy. For these reasons, the discussion of Rome is briefer than for the Greeks.

A. Politics in Rome Where Greece’s rugged countryside favored small farms worked by their owners, the broad and rich plains surrounding Rome combined with the institution of slavery favored the large latifunda. These led to considerably more income inequality in Rome than in Athens and the other Greek citystates and to the rise of an aristocracy. The Roman aristocracy had much to protect, and it used the political process to do so. During the period of the Republic, 509 to 82 bce, Rome was essentially an oligarchy controlled by the aristocracy.35 The structure of Rome’s political institutions resembled those of the Greek city-state. There were magistrates, a council (Senate), and popular assemblies. The role of the Senate was supposed to be purely advisory, with the authority to pass legislation and elect the magistrates lying entirely with the assemblies. However, a member of an assembly could neither propose legislation nor offer amendments. Proposals were placed before the assemblies by a magistrate and had to be voted up or down. Thus, the magistrates along with the Senate were the agenda setters, and generally used their positions to great advantage. Magistrates came from the aristocracy; the Senate was also drawn from the leading aristocratic families, plus former magistrates, making the Roman Republic a de facto aristocracy. 35

Finer (1997, pp. 385, 432–5) favors these dates. In the discussion of the Roman Republic, I once again rely heavily on Finer.

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The Republic’s constitution was riddled with various checks and balances. Certain magistrates were empowered to veto actions by an assembly, but other magistrates could block such a veto. In 494 bce, a new category of magistrate was created – the tribune – and an additional assembly to which he submitted legislation. This development was in response to a rebellion by the plebs – Roman citizens who were not patricians (members of the aristocracy by birth). The richest plebs in particular wished to share the power of the patricians, and achieved this goal by opening up the office of tribune to themselves. A tribune, like other magistrates, could unilaterally block the legislation of an assembly. In response to pressure from the plebs, several later reforms strengthened their political power in the Republic. Thus, by 134 bce, the Roman constitution consisted “of two systems, or better, a system and an anti-system, for the one was designed to check the other.”36 Each system in turn contained its own set of veto players who could block its actions. Unlike the case of the United States, the checks and balances in the Roman constitution did not arise as part of a coherent design of political institutions with specific outcome objectives in mind. They arose in an ad hoc manner over time in response to the numerous crises that plagued the Republic. Each new crisis resulted in the creation of a new institution, designed to check the institution that caused the recent crisis. The end result was a bewildering political structure with multiple assemblies of citizens, small decision-making councils, and numerous veto players. Given the Roman constitution’s bizarre formal structure, it is a wonder that the whole system did not collapse out of pure inertia. Yet it did not, at least not until the first century bce. Indeed, it functioned admirably until the end of the second century bce; although an oligarchy, it was a limited one because of its many checks and balances. Moreover, the rights of the aristocracy carried with them obligations. For example, until late in the Republic’s life, military service was restricted to those with property except for situations of extreme emergency. The values most esteemed by Romans were: gravitas – sobriety, judiciousness, prudence; pietas – dutifulness, acting rightly or properly; simplicitas – a plain frugal way of living.37 These qualities, along with the goals of glory, honor, and reputation that the aristocracy shared, led aristocrats to perform their offices responsibly for roughly the first four hundred years of the Republic. Although the formal constitutional structure created numerous obstacles to good government, 36 37

Finer (1997, p. 397). Finer (1997, p. 392) and Pagden (2008, p. 61).

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various informal conventions allowed the aristocracy to circumvent these obstacles for the good of themselves and of Rome.38 The system of government worked to the benefit of rich and poor alike, and was viewed as legitimate by all classes until the end of the second century bce. At that time, the wealth pouring back into Rome began to create great inequalities. The continual launching of new campaigns required more and more men to be drafted into the army. The requirement that soldiers own property was dropped and the army became filled with men with no stake in the country who simply wished to make money. The virtue of frugality gave way to the vice of greed, oratory to bribery, and the aristocracy degenerated into rival factions quarreling over the spoils of battle and office. In 82 bce, the general Sulla abandoned the constitution and the Republic was essentially at an end, although it lived on in name only through another fifty years of civil war.

B. Roman Citizenship One democratic institution adopted from the Greeks was the notion of citizenship. Citizenship in Rome, as in Greece, was divided into categories with the highest categories carrying the right to vote for one’s leaders and hold office. Where Greek citizenship was tied to the polis and given out stingily, Romans were more liberal in granting citizenship. Allowing people in the conquered lands to become Roman citizens was one way of winning their loyalty. Thus, one could be a Roman citizen and a Gaul, Greek, or Jew at the same time. Being a Roman was not an ethnic designation, but rather “more a status and state of mind.”39 In the Roman Empire, the idea first appears that individuals possess certain rights. A Roman was a citizen of the Civitas and this conferred on him rights like habeas corpus protection. Of course, such rights would be worthless without a judicial system to enforce them, therefore, codified Roman law and the justice system became important complements to Roman citizenship.40 One had to be physically present in Rome to vote in the Assembly, so that as a practical matter, participation in the political process was restricted to citizens living in or near Rome. As noted in the previous section, during the early years of the Republic, people took pride at being a Roman citizen and were willing to make sacrifices for the state in the form of paying taxes and fighting in the army to defend and expand the state. As the Republic collapsed, this willingness to sacrifice for the state gave way to selfish greed. 38 39 40

See Finer (1997, pp. 388, 396–8, 413). Finer (1997, p. 389). Pagden (2008, pp. 89–94).

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C. Religion in Rome The Romans were a very superstitious people. In the Republic’s early years, they believed their lives were governed by supernatural forces embodied in stones, rivers, trees, and plants. Later, these spirits lodged in natural objects were replaced by human ones when the Romans assimilated the Etruscan and Greek gods. As in many tribal societies, Romans believed that the future could be predicted and altered by performing certain rituals and paying heed to various omens. “Developed Roman religion became, above all else, a network of elaborate spells, incantations, rituals, and sacrifices, each performed with exactitude. . . . ”41 These incantations and rituals had to be performed by priests who were members of certain “colleges.” These priests were drawn from the aristocracy and, given how superstitious the Romans were, played an important role in the day-to-day life of Rome. Here we have another important difference between Ancient Rome and Greece where a class of priests did not exist. Because virtually every public act required the performance of a certain ritual, priests exercised considerable power over the state. For example, a priest could postpone a meeting of the Assembly to decide some important issue by merely pronouncing that there were bad omens at the present time. Because priests, senators, and magistrates all came from the aristocracy, religion tended to cement the aristocracy’s control over the people. When one thinks of Rome and religion today, one thinks not of the pagan religion that reigned during the Republic, but of Christianity, which captured Rome long after the Republic disappeared. At first it seems surprising that Christianity took hold in the Hellenistic world of the Roman Empire and not in Palestine where Jesus and his disciples lived. This development becomes less surprising when one recognizes the important role of superstition (religion) and ritual in Roman life. Moreover, by the time Paul and Christ’s other followers began preaching, a large proletariat without property existed in the Roman world. Christianity’s messages – that the poor shall inherit the earth, that a glorious afterlife awaited the devout Christian, and that Jesus was soon to return to earth to take all good Christians back to Heaven – fell on ears eager for reasons to hope.42 Another important cause of Christianity’s success was its egalitarianism. Religious practices were not restricted to a small subset of the aristocracy as was true in Rome when Christianity first appeared, but were open to 41 42

Finer (1997, p. 391). Ekelund and Tollison (2008), and Ekelund, Tollison, and Vasilescu (2008) emphasize the importance of this feature of Christianity in getting converts to this new religion.

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all – even women. Women’s greater status under Christianity made them devout followers of the religion, and because of the important role they played in raising and educating children, key figures in the religion’s spread. These factors help explain the demand for the new religion on the part of Romans. Ekelund and Tollison (2008) have a supply-side explanation for why the empire adopted Christianity. They claim that Christian ethics provided certain benefits for the Roman state in the form of lower policing costs and lower outlays for the poor. The relatively unified nature of the Christian religion also helped unify the quarreling factions in the empire by giving all Romans a common religion. Thus, more probably laid behind Emperor Constantine’s conversion to Christianity in 313 ce than just having seen the light of divine revelation. In closing this discussion of Rome, it is perhaps appropriate to consider Edward Gibbon’s explanation for the rise of Christianity and its contribution to the fall of the Roman Empire. Gibbon gave five reasons for Christianity’s success: I. The inflexible and, if we may use the expression, the intolerant zeal of the Christians – derived, it is true, from the Jewish religion but purified from the narrow and unsocial spirit which, instead of inviting, had deterred the Gentiles from embracing the law of Moses. II. The doctrine of a future life, improved by every additional circumstance which could give weight and efficacy to that important truth. III. The miraculous powers ascribed to the primitive church. IV. The pure and austere morals of the Christians. V. The union and discipline of Christian republic, which gradually formed an independent and increasing state in the heart of the Roman Empire. (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 261–2)

Gibbon places particular emphasis on the importance of a belief in an afterlife. When the promise of eternal happiness was proposed to mankind on condition of adopting the faith and of observing the precepts of the Gospel, it is no wonder that so advantageous an offer should have been accepted by great numbers of every religion, of every rank, and of every province in the Roman empire. The ancient Christians were animated by a contempt for their present existence and by a just confidence of immortality, of which the doubtful and imperfect faith of modern ages cannot give us any adequate notion. In the primitive church the influence of truth was very powerfully strengthened by an opinion, which however it may deserve respect for its usefulness and antiquity, has not been found agreeable to experience. It was universally believed that the end of the world and the kingdom of heaven were at hand. The near approach of this wonderful event had been predicted by the apostles; the tradition of it was preserved by their earliest disciples; and those who understood in their literal sense the discourses of Christ himself were obliged to expect the second and glorious coming of the Son of Man in the

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clouds before that generation was totally extinguished . . . Whilst the happiness and glory of a temporal reign were promised to the disciples of Christ, the most dreadful calamities were denounced against an unbelieving world. (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 276–7, footnote omitted)

With respect to the early church’s miraculous powers, Gibbon had this to say: Besides the occasional prodigies, which might sometimes be effected by the immediate interposition of the Deity when he suspended the laws of Nature for the service of religion, the Christian church, from the time of the apostles and their disciples, has claimed an uninterrupted succession of miraculous powers, the gift of tongues, of vision, and of prophecy, the power of expelling demons, of healing the sick, and of raising the dead. (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 279–80)

Gibbon then goes on to illustrate the egalitarian nature of the early church, which made it so popular among the poor and especially among women. The divine inspiration, whether it was conceived in the form of a walking or sleeping vision, is described as a favour very literally bestowed on all ranks of the faithful, on women as on elders, on boys as well upon bishops. When their devout minds were sufficiently prepared by a course of prayer, of fasting, and of vigils to receive the extraordinary impulse, they were transported out of their senses and delivered in ecstasy that was inspired, being mere organs of the Holy Spirit . . . (Gibbon, 1952, p. 280)

This passage is followed by a description of publicly performed exorcisms at which “the vanquished demon was heard to confess,” and resurrections of the dead. He notes wryly the case of a bishop of Antioch who refused a challenge from a noble Grecian to produce someone who had been raised from the dead, even though the Grecian had promised to convert immediately to Christianity if the bishop were able to do so. Gibbon devotes considerable space to the austerity of the early Christians and their adverseness to both the world of business and “the pleasures of this world.” The acquisition of knowledge, the exercise of our reason or fancy, and the cheerful flow of unguarded conversation may employ the leisure of the liberal mind. Such amusements, however, were rejected with abhorrence or admitted with utmost caution by the severity of the fathers, who despised all knowledge that was not useful to salvation and who considered all levity of discourse as a criminal abuse of the gift of speech. (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 286–7)

Many factors played a role in the fall of the Roman Empire including, according to Gibbon, Christianity.

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As the happiness of a future life is the great object of religion, we may hear without surprise or scandal that the introduction, or at least the abuse, of Christianity had some influence on the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. The clergy successfully preached the doctrines of patience and pusillanimity; the active virtues of society were discouraged; and the last remains of military spirit were buried in the cloister. A large portion of public and private wealth was consecrated to the specious demands of charity and devotion, and the soldiers’ pay was lavished on the useless of multitudes of both sexes who could only plead the merits of abstinence and charity. Faith, zeal, curiosity, and more earthly passions of malice and ambition kindled the flame of theological discord; the church and even the state were distracted by religious factions, whose conflicts were sometimes bloody and always implacable; the attention of the emperors was diverted from camps to synods; the Roman world was oppressed by a new species of tyranny, and the persecuted sects became the secret enemies of their country. (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 622–3, emphasis in the original)

Gibbon’s description of the Roman citizen after his conversion to Christianity contrasts starkly with Pericles’ description of the Greek citizen. Where the Greek citizen concentrated on the present life and was willing to make sacrifices for the state to improve the present life, the Christian Roman withdrew his support for the state and concentrated on the afterlife.

VII. Conclusions No one epitomized the Athenian spirit better than Socrates, the “gadfly” who questioned everything. It is highly appropriate that teaching by questioning is still today called the Socratic method. However, anyone who questions everything – the power of the establishment, the social and political status quo – is bound to make enemies as Socrates did. His trial and conviction for corrupting the minds of youth by questioning tradition is a sobering reminder of the powerful role traditionalism can play even in societies as progressive as Ancient Athens. Condorcet ([1795]1955, p. 45) claimed that “the death of Socrates . . . was the first crime that marked the beginning of the war between philosophy and superstition, a war which is still being waged amongst us between this same philosophy and the oppressors of humanity. . . . ” Although the Greeks achieved some important victories in this war, by the time of Rome’s fall and Christianity’s triumph, the battle was almost completely lost. Gibbon’s description of the early Christians – despising all knowledge that was not useful for salvation and considering levity as a criminal abuse of the gift of speech – could not be further from the character of the Athenians at their best. For the thinking Greek, all knowledge was useful and he sought it in every conceivable branch of learning. Moreover,

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the whole purpose of acquiring knowledge was to understand and improve the present life. Although religion played a more important role in Roman life prior to the adoption of Christianity than in Greek life, Roman religion was a pagan religion and like all local religions was concerned with the present life. Rituals and sacrifices were intended to secure benefits or avoid misfortunes in this life. The priesthood served as intermediaries between the gods and spirits in this endeavor. Christianity’s spread throughout Europe caused a profound reorientation of intellectual activity. The concept of original sin – totally foreign to Greek and Roman society – implied that life on this earth must be one of suffering and atonement. The collapse of the Roman Empire literally brought an end to civilization as it had been understood for a millennium, and reinforced the view that the present life was destined to be one of misery. Thus, the main thrust of intellectual activity shifted toward understanding what the afterlife would be like and to discovering what must be done in this life to ensure happiness in the next. The powers of reason were diverted from the study of nature and man on this earth to the study of God and the afterlife. The “Dark Ages” were a period of prolonged economic contraction. Although it is wrong to think of this period as one of total intellectual atrophy – technological advances continued to be made in agriculture, military affairs, architecture, and other applied arts – it is correct to say that the potential for major advances in science, mathematics, engineering, philosophy, and so many other branches of knowledge that arose in Greek society failed to be realized in the roughly one thousand years after the fall of Rome. Significant progress in these areas only resumed when European minds rediscovered the great works of Ancient Greece and Rome, and reoriented themselves back toward life on earth instead of in Heaven.

SIX

The Caliphate

The recompense of those who wage war against Allah and His Messenger and do mischief in the land is only that they shall be killed or crucified or their hands and their feet be cut off on the opposite sides, or be exiled from the land. That is their disgrace in this world, and a great torment is theirs in the Hereafter. (Koran 5:33)1

I. The Rise of Islam A. The Revelations In the early seventh century ce, a wealthy merchant in Mecca by the name of Mohammed would frequently retire to the cave of Hira to pray and meditate. He is reputed to have remained in the cave until he ran out of food and then return after replenishing his provisions. Around 610, he began to have dreams that purportedly anticipated the events of the following day. These were followed by visions, which he interpreted as visits from the archangel Gabriel. Sometimes the angel appeared as a man, twice “in the form in which he was created – with 600 wings.”2 The visitations had an immense emotional impact on Mohammed and at one point he is said to have exclaimed, “I fear that I have gone mad.”3 The conditions under which Mohammed experienced his revelations are not unique. Stark (2004, ch. 5) identifies the following circumstances under which revelations can profoundly affect a religion’s founding: (1) They occur in periods of social crisis, (2) They occur at a time when there is widespread belief in the existence of revelations. (3) The person experiencing the 1 2 3

As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1475). As-Sallaabee (2005, pp. 127–43). As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 143).

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revelations knows other persons who have had visions or experienced revelations, or (4) The initial account of the person experiencing the revelations is believed by the immediate circle to which he relates them. Stark claims that all of these conditions were satisfied for Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, and Joseph Smith Jr., founder of the Mormon religion. A cousin of Mohammed’s wife, Waraqa ibn Naufal, had visions predicting the coming of an Arabian prophet. Smith’s father also had visions. The father of Jesus’ good friend John the Baptist was visited by the archangel Gabriel announcing the Baptist’s birth and, of course, the same angel visited Mary to announce the coming of Jesus. Mohammed’s visits to the cave recall Christ’s forty days in the desert following his baptism. As with Mohammed’s time alone in the cave, Christ’s stay in the desert must have created considerable emotional and psychological stress. Where Mohammed was visited by the archangel Gabriel, Christ was visited and tempted by the devil. Upon emerging from the desert, Christ begins to preach the word of God, just as Mohammed does following his experience in the cave. The religion of Arabia at that time was a pagan polytheism. Major elements of Mohammed’s message were that there was but one God – Allah – and that a Day of Judgment was soon to come when Allah would appear on earth, the dead would rise from their graves, and Allah would decide who would travel to Heaven or descend into Hell. To avoid the latter fate, one had to obey the will of Allah as revealed by the prophet Mohammed. The religion of the day was well suited for a nomadic, rural people, but a large fraction of the Arab population by the seventh century was urbanized and had difficulty reconciling tribal traditions with urban life. Mohammed’s message appealed to an urban people and prescribed rituals suited for urban living – communal prayer on Fridays, calls to prayer from a nearby mosque’s minaret, and the Ramadan, a month of fasting broken by recuperative evening meals.4 Mohammed, like Jesus, was obviously a charismatic figure. Edward Gibbon gives the following description of him: According to the tradition of his companions, Mohammed was distinguished by the beauty of his person . . . Before he spoke, the orator engaged on his side the affections of a public or private audience. They applauded his commanding presence, his majestic aspect, his piercing eye, his gracious smile, his flowing beard, his continence that painted every sensation of the soul, and his gestures that enforced each expression of the tongue. In the familiar offices of life he scrupulously adhered to the grave and ceremonious politeness of his country; his respectful attention to the rich and powerful was dignified by his condescension and affability to the poorest 4

McNeill (1963, p. 424) and Finer (1997, p. 681).

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citizens of Mecca; the frankness of his manner concealed the artifice of his views; and the habits of courtesy were imputed to personal friendship or universal benevolence. His memory was capacious and retentive; his wit easy and social; his imagination sublime; his judgment clear, rapid, and decisive. He possessed the courage both of thought and action; and although his designs might gradually expand with his success, the first idea which he entertained of his divine mission bears the stamp of an original and superior genius. (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 651–2)

B. The Spread of Islam In the twenty years of his life that remained after he began preaching, Mohammed won many followers, and Islam spread on the backs of its armed converts. In addition to being a charismatic leader, Mohammed was a brilliant military strategist. At one of the early and most important battles at Badr 624 ce,5 he had his troops line up in rows, “just as they are lined up for prayer.”6 This strategy was new to Arab warfare and proved quite effective. Even the ritual of praying to Allah five times a day in a carefully prescribed way tended to serve the same purpose as marching drills do – to develop discipline in the army.7 According to Islamic tradition and the Koran, the Muslims’ religion played a more direct role in the victory at Badr. Allah sent angels to fight at their sides: And Allah has already made you victorious at Badr, when you were a weak little force. So fear Allah much (abstain from all kinds of sins and evil deeds which He has forbidden and love Allah much, perform all kinds of good deeds which He has ordained) that you may be grateful. (Remember) when you (Mohammed) said to the believers, “It is not enough for you that your Lord (Allah) should help you with three thousand angels; sent down?” “Yes, if you hold on to patience and piety, and the enemy comes rushing at you; your Lord will help you with five thousand angels having marks (of distinction).” Allah made it not but as a message of good news for you and as an assistance to your hearts. And there is no victory except from Allah, the All-Mighty, the All-Wise. (Koran 3:123–6)8

Some four centuries later, the fickle angels would join the side of the Christians during the First Crusade and help them to victory over a Muslim army at Antioch – at least, this was the explanation given by the Christians for their surprise victory.9 5 6 7 8 9

All dates in this chapter are ce. As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 972). McNeill (1963, p. 428, n.). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 984). Pagden (2008, pp. 188–9).

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Many verses of the Koran recount Mohammed’s exhortations to his soldiers before battles. Some are designed to instill hope (as in the previous verse promising support from angels) so that his soldiers fight bravely, others to instill fear of the consequences of turning tail and running. O Prophet (Mohammed)! Urge the believers to fight. If there are twenty steadfast persons amongst you, they will overcome two hundred, and if there be a hundred steadfast persons, they will overcome a thousand of those who disbelieve, because they (the disbelievers) are people who do not understand. (Koran 8:65)10 Then fight (Mohammed) in the Cause of Allah, you are not asked (held responsible) except for yourself, and incite the believers (to fight along you), it may be that Allah will restrain the evil might of the disbelievers. And Allah is Stronger in Might and Stronger in punishing. (Koran 4:84)11 The fire; they are exposed to it, morning and afternoon, and on the Day when the Hour will be established (it will be said to the angels): Cause Pharaoh people to enter the severest torment! (Koran 40:46)12 Think not of those who are killed in the way of Allah as dead. Nay, they are alive, with their Lord, and they have provision (Koran 3:169)13 O you who believe! What is the matter with you, that you are asked to march forth in the Cause of Allah (i.e., Jihad) you cling heavily to earth? Are you pleased with the life of this world rather than the Hereafter? But little is the enjoyment of the life of this world as compared with the Hereafter. Koran 9:38)14

Mohammed is purported to have made the following exhortation to his soldiers just before the battle of Uhud (625): O people, what Allah commanded me to do in his Book, I command you to do (now): Work in His obedience and desist from the matters that he forbade. Indeed, today you are in a place of reward savings (i.e., reward that you are saving for the Hereafter), at least for those among you who know their responsibilities and then prepare themselves to fulfill them, upon patience, certainly (of faith), seriousness, and activeness. For indeed, fighting against the enemy is hard and unpleasant; few are those who patiently do it. For indeed, Allah is with those who obey Him, and the devil is with those who disobey Allah. So begin your deeds with patience upon jihad, and in doing so, search out for what Allah promised you. And you must follow what I command you to do, for indeed, I ardently want you to do what is right. And indeed, discord, disagreement, and losing heart are part of what it means to be incapable and weak, which Allah does not love, and for which Allah grants neither help nor victory.15 10 11 12 13 14 15

See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 975). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 975). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 990). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 990). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1827). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1114).

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Although this speech suggests that Mohammed believed victory depended on the bravery and discipline of his troops, some verses of the Koran make it clear that the Muslims’ victories were entirely due to the intervention of Allah. You Killed them not, but Allah killed them. And you (Mohammed) threw not when you did throw but Allah threw, that He might test the believers by a fair trial from Him. Verily, Allah is All-Hearer, All-Knower. (Koran 8:17)16 If Allah helps you, none can overcome you; and if He forsakes you, who is there after Him that can help you? And in Allah (Alone) let believers put their trust. (Koran 3:160)17

Following the victory at Badr, a debate ensued over what to do with the prisoners. One proposal was to demand ransom from them, another was to behead them. The Prophet opted for a pragmatic compromise – those that paid ransom would be set free, the rest would be beheaded. Given these sorts of options, it is little wonder that many polytheistic Arabs chose to convert to Islam rather than risk defeat in battle against it.

C. Miracles Mohammed’s life, like that of Jesus, was filled with miracles. We list but a few to give the reader their flavor, beginning with those already mentioned. 1. Mohammed has dreams predicting future events. 2. Mohammed is visited by the archangel Gabriel. 3. Three (five) thousand angels fight on the side of the Muslims at Badr. 4. During the battle of Badr, enemy heads are seen falling to the ground without having been struck by a sword, apparently the work of the angels.18 5. During the battle of Badr, Ukkaashah ibn Maihsin’s sword breaks. The Prophet gives him a piece of wood, which immediately turned into “a long, powerful white sword.” Ukkaashah ibn Maihsin continues to use the sword for years after the battle.19 6. While alone and unarmed, Mohammed is approached by the leader of the Muhaarib tribe who carries a sword. He asks, “‘Mohammed, who will protect you from me today?’ The Prophet responded, ‘Allah,’ at which point [the archangel Gabriel] pushed [the tribal leader’s] chest 16 17 18 19

See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1041). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1208). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 986). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1053).

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causing his sword to fall to the ground.” Mohammed picks up the sword and the tribal leader prudently decides to become one of his followers.20 7. At the so-called Battle of the Confederates (Clans) before Mount Sal, Allah sends “a cold, violent wind along with angels to cast terror in the hearts of the enemy.”21 8. Digging of trenches before the Battle of the Confederates is halted because of “a large piece of solid, hard earth.” Mohammed strikes it with a pickax and it immediately turns to dust.22 9. At the Battle of Hunain (630), Allah sends angels to help the Muslims. Mohammed tosses two handfuls of pebbles and dirt toward the polytheists. Pebbles and pieces of dirt enter “the eyes of every single person from the opposing army.”23 10. Reminiscent of Jesus feeding a large crowd with a few fish and loaves of bread, Mohammed performed similar feats on numerous occasions: on one such occasion, a large number of troops is fed with bread made from four handfuls of barley and a slaughtered baby goat; on another, they are fed with a handful of dates; on the way to the battle of Tabuk (632), the Prophet calls to Allah for rain to quench his soldiers’ thirst, and it rains; on the same march, he feeds his soldiers with small quantities of bread, corn, and other foodstuffs.24 What is interesting about these and other miracles in the life of Mohammed, in contrast with those that supposedly surrounded the life of Christ, is that they so often helped the Muslims win battles or saved Mohammed’s life.

D. Appraisal In a short time – much shorter than was true for Rome – the Islamic Empire spread ro extend from western India and China to the most western part of Europe. This remarkably rapid expansion attests to the prowess and courage of the Islamic soldier, which stemmed in no small part from his religion. Where Christianity’s symbol is the suffering Godhead, Islam’s is the armed Prophet.25 Mohammed urged his followers to fight in the name 20 21 22 23 24 25

See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1061). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1381). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1395). See As-Sallaabee (2005, p. 1758). See As-Sallaabee (2005, pp. 1395–7, 1845, 1849). Finer (1997, p. 666).

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of Islam, and assured them that martyrdom in the pursuit of this cause would take them to Heaven.26 This belief, along with the belief that the Day of Judgment was imminent, played an important role in getting Islamic fighters to kill and die for Islam. Moreover, each victory on the battlefield provided evidence of Allah’s greatness, and the knowledge that he was fighting on the Muslim side stimulated further acts of courage.27 Although students of history might question the accuracy of the estimated number of angels fighting on the Muslim side at Badr, what is important about this story is that the Muslims themselves believed it, and that many Muslims still do so today. On September 12, 2006, Pope Benedict XVI gave a speech at the University of Regensburg in which he quoted Manuel II, a fourteenth century Byzantine emperor: “Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.”28 Rioting ensued in Muslim countries and at least one person was killed, an Italian nun in Somalia. Although the speech cannot be regarded as the pope’s finest ecumenical moment, it is difficult to discount the importance of the sword for the rapid advance of Islam. The passages of the Koran quoted earlier depict an Allah who took a keen interest in the Muslims’ performance on the battlefield and counseled his Messenger as to how to be victorious. Jihad in the name of Islam at the empire’s founding certainly meant armed fighting on the battlefield. Death in battle meant martyrdom and a free pass to Heaven. For Gibbon, the remarkable thing about the empire was not the speed at which it grew, but its longevity: The talents of Mohammed are entitled to our applause, but his success has perhaps too strongly attracted our admiration. Are we surprised that a multitude of proselytes should embrace the doctrine and the passions of an eloquent fanatic? In the heresies of the church the same seduction has been tried and repeated from the time of the apostles to that of the reformers. Does it seem incredible that a private citizen should grasp the sword and the sceptre, subdue his native country, and erect a monarchy by his victorious aims? In the moving picture of the dynasties of the East, a hundred fortunate usurpers have risen from a baser origin, surmounted more 26

27 28

See Esposito (2002, p. 33). Given Islam’s history, it is understandable that Pope Benedict XVI was surprised by the critical reaction of many Muslim clerics and politicians to a speech he delivered in September 2006 in which he quoted critical remarks by a medieval Christian scholar about the way in which the Muslim religion was introduced across the Middle East. McNeill (1963, p. 426). See http://catholicanalysis.blogspot.com/2006/09/full-text-of-popes-regensburg-speech 18.html.

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formidable obstacles, and filled a larger scope of empire and conquest. Mohammed was alike instructed to preach and to fight; and the union of these opposite qualities, while it enhanced his merit, contributed to his success. The operation of force and persuasion, of enthusiasm and fear, continually acted on each other till every barrier yielded to their irresistible power. His voice invited the Arabs to freedom and victory, to arms and rapine, to the indulgence of their darling passions in this world and the other; the restraints which he imposed were requisite to establish the credit of the prophet and to exercise the obedience of the people; and the only objection to his success was his rational creed of the unity and perfections of God. It is not the propagation but the permanency of his religion that deserves our wonder . . . (Gibbon, 1952, pp. 658–9)

Although the religion that Mohammed founded proved to be durable, the empire he launched did not. The Caliphate did not last as long as the Roman Empire that preceded it, the Ottoman Empire that followed it, or its closest neighbor and contemporary rival, the Byzantine Empire. It disintegrated some three hundred years after Mohammed’s death. We now review the Caliphate’s religious, political, and scientific achievements.

II. The Religion of the Caliphate – Islam Islam, like the other historic religions of the Middle Ages – Christianity in the remnants of the Roman Empire and Europe, neo-Zoroastrianism in Iran, and Buddhism in India and China – claims that only its followers worship the one, true God. Therefore, only its followers can enter Heaven. Each of these religions is confessional, consisting of communities of believers, each of whom is personally responsible through his actions for whether or not he ascends into Heaven. Under Islam, this community is called the umma. Because salvation was restricted to members of the faith, in each area in which one of the historic religions reigned, the leaders of the state sought to impose their religion on their subjects often using torture and death to convert nonbelievers and punish heretics. Compared to Christianity and neo-Zoroastrianism, Islam was relatively tame in this respect. Throughout most of the empire, non-Muslims were allowed to live and practice their religions, although they possessed fewer rights than Muslims and had to pay a special tax to the state.29 Mohammed believed that Jesus, Moses, and some of the other major figures in Jewish history were also prophets, but that the Jews and 29

See the discussion in McNeill (1963, p. 424), Finer (1997, pp. 613–16), and Lewis (2000, p. 56).

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Christians had lost God’s Divine message, and thus God had spoken to him, Mohammed, to bring this message back to earth. Islam was the one true religion of Abraham. After Mohammed’s death, it was necessary to collect his teachings so that they could be used to obtain more converts to Islam. Some six thousand verses attributed to Mohammed were brought together in the Koran. Although composed by Mohammed, the verses were taken to be the word of Allah, and thus the Koran “was uncreated, hence coeval and co-eternal and co-immutable with God himself.”30 Islam rests on the so-called Five Pillars. The first is to utter the shahada before witnesses: “I testify that there is no God but Allah, and I testify that Mohammed is the Prophet of Allah.” The second – the salat – is to pray five times a day in a position demonstrating obeisance to Allah and facing Mecca. The sakat requires obligatory contributions to charity. The fourth – the sawm – is an annual fast during the month of Ramadan, and the fifth – the hajj – is to make a pilgrimage to Mecca. “The Muslim aim was to serve God as He wished to be served, utterly without reservation. In practice this meant unquestioning obedience to Mohammed, God’s messenger.”31 In addition to the basic obligations of the Five Pillars, the Koran contains a plethora of prescriptions governing in minute detail almost every aspect of daily life. No other religion before or since has placed so many and exacting constraints on individual behavior. With time, these strictures on individual behavior came to be called the Shari’a – the Sacred Law. Only two Muslim countries from the Middle East and North Africa – Lebanon and Turkey – have legal systems that make no reference to the Shari’a. In all other Muslim countries, the laws are inspired to various degrees by the Shari’a. The objective behind the Five Pillars and Koran’s prescriptions is to ensure that one gets into Heaven. Life on earth is oriented toward obtaining life in Heaven. Each individual has the power to secure a place in Heaven if she follows the dictates of the Koran. They are there for everyone to read and practice. Thus, Islam has no need for a clergy to perform rituals to aid the faithful in their quest for Heaven or to intervene between God and the individual follower of the faith. Under Islam, each individual is personally responsible for following the proscribed rituals and communicates directly through prayer with God. Islam has, therefore, no hierarchical structure of clergy as does the Catholic Church, although over time a body of interpreters 30 31

Finer (1997, p. 667). McNeill (1963, p. 422).

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of the Shari’a – the ulema – has developed. Ironically, the Islamic Republic of Iran has created a hierarchical religious structure resembling that of the medieval Catholic Church “with the functional equivalents of a pontificate, a college of cardinals, a bench of bishops, and, especially, an inquisition, all previously alien to Islam.”32 Each of Islam’s two predecessors, Judaism and Christianity, rose to importance without being a state religion. After fleeing Egypt, the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years before entering the Promised Land and their leader Moses never did enter it. Jesus was crucified and his followers persecuted for centuries, until the Roman Emperor Constantine adopted Christianity and it became a kind of state religion. In stark contrast, Mohammed was both the Prophet and the leader of the Islamic state, and led much of its expansion during his lifetime. Thus, church and state have been combined under Islam from its inception and remain so in the minds of most Muslims today. Where schisms within Judaism and Christianity have been precipitated by divergent interpretations of scripture and the proper role of the clergy, schisms within Islam have typically not been because of differences in interpretation of holy text, but have instead been caused by power struggles within the empire. The Shiites, for example, came into existence following the assassination of Ali in 661. Ali was the cousin and son-in-law of Mohammed and had become caliph in 656 following the assassination of Othman. Ali’s blood ties to Mohammed were thought to legitimize his claim to be caliph, but not all potential claimants agreed; hence, his assassination and the splintering off of his followers. The Sunnites descend from the time of al-Mahdi’s rule as caliph, 775–85. In an effort to legitimize the caliph’s authority in matters of state, al-Mahdi proposed creating two spheres of law. One was to pertain to matters of daily life and be governed by the Shari’a as interpreted by the ulema; the other to matters of state, like taxation, where the word of the caliph was to be law. This compromise raised the status of the ulema and thus won their support. Muslims who accepted this compromise came to be called Sunnites. Still later, a mystical dimension was added to Islam by the Sufists.33 The Caliphate was subject to far more political unrest in the form of mutinies and territorial revolts than, say, its neighbor Byzantium – by one count there were forty-two uprisings between 632 and 944.34 Although religion was not the sole factor in many of these, it was a factor in all 32 33 34

Lewis (2002, p. 122, footnote omitted). See discussion in McNeill (1963, pp. 432–40) and Lewis (2000, pp. 51–85; 2002, pp. 112–13). Finer (1997, pp. 701–4).

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of them. It must also be said, however, that the political structure of the Caliphate lent itself to rebellions and civil wars.

III. The Politics of the Caliphate Finer (1997, pp. 674–9) classifies the Caliphate as a “Palace-type polity” along with the Chinese, late Roman, and Byzantine empires. He identifies four salient characteristics of it: 1. The authority of the caliph was supposed to be conferred by Allah, making him “the shadow of Allah on earth.” Many caliphs claimed to be descended from Mohammed.35 This claim was often difficult to verify, however, and could be made by others, which led to frequent struggles for control of the Caliphate upon a caliph’s natural death or murder. 2. All state decisions were made by the caliph in the palace. Unlike in most palace polities, however, the decision as to who should be the caliph was not made in the palace, as say when there was a clear hereditary line. Decisions regarding succession were made outside of the palace and were a continuing cause for rebellion and political unrest. 3. The policies of the Caliphate were implemented by a state bureaucracy, and the state was protected by an army. To a large extent, the bureaucracy governing a particular territory was the same one that was in place when the Caliphate conquered it. Thus, much of the bureaucracy that governed the Caliphate was in the hands of Christians, Byzantines, and Sassanids, not Muslims. 4. Following the compromise introduced by al-Mahdi, and to some extent even before, there were no legal or procedural restraints on the caliph regarding state matters, and he was a true despot. In practice, however, the status of the Shari’a placed some constraints on him, as did the need to retain the loyalty and cooperation of local elites. The Caliphate was organized as a loose federation of governorships. A governorship, like say Egypt, would have its own governor, bureaucracy, and army. It would be responsible for raising taxes to cover its own expenses and to pay tribute to the central Caliphate. Much of the wealth of the Caliphate, which at its zenith was immense, was obtained through conquest and pillage. However, it was also one giant common market that encouraged trade and the accumulation of wealth. 35

van Creveld (1999, p. 38).

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Once the empire stopped growing, the first source of wealth disappeared. To maintain the many palaces and lavish lifestyle of the caliph and his entourage, taxes needed to be continuously raised, eventually producing much discontent. Within the Caliphate there was no sense of public purpose. It expanded by conquest and lived like a parasite off the peoples it conquered, always taking more from the people than it gave back.36 Taxation was a kind of extortion of the citizenry, with tax collectors descending on villages and expecting to be fed and housed free of charge. Often villagers were forced to sell their grains or livestock quickly to pay their taxes, and thus did not receive fair value for them. Those unable to pay were subject to sometimes quite brutal punishment.37 Corruption has probably existed as long as the state has existed, but the Caliphate raised it to a new level. Indeed, institutionalizing corruption might be described as the major (if not the only) political innovation of the Caliphate. The most important person in the empire, other than the caliph, was his vizier. Among the vizier’s duties was ensuring that taxes were dutifully collected across the empire and that the revenue flowed into the palace’s coffers. Candidates for vizier had to bid for the post. They raised funds for their bids by promising attractive posts as tax farmers to financial backers, and striking bargains with those who already had high-ranking positions. Once a vizier took office, all members of the “winning coalition” recouped their bets by skimming off tax revenue on its way to the palace. Because each new appointment of a vizier brought a fresh flow of bribes into the caliph’s privy purse, frequent hiring and firing of viziers became common. A new vizier fined or arrested the outgoing vizier and all of his appointees, and sometimes obtained the funds he needed by the threat of torture. Once they had paid up, however, members of the previous ruling clique became eligible to bid for other positions: “What we see, in fact, is quite extraordinary. It is not just a thoroughly corrupt fiscal system, for that is quite common in a large number of Third World states today, [but] it amounts in effect to a privatization of public administration based on systemized corruption.”38 Just as the existence of corruption is a major obstacle to economic growth in Third World countries today, the scale of corruption in the Caliphate contributed greatly to its economic decline. For example, wheeled vehicles all but disappeared in the Middle East during the 36 37 38

Finer (1997, p. 675). Finer (1997, pp. 722–3). Finer (1997, p. 723), emphasis in the original. The discussion in this paragraph draws on Finer (1997, pp. 723–4).

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Middle Ages, because they were a conspicuous example of wealth that could be easily seized by local authorities.39 Subjects under the Caliphate – it is difficult to call them citizens – had no rights against it. Although they suffered most from this lack of rights when it came to taxation and the state’s appropriation of their property, the caliph’s authority could and was exercised arbitrarily in other areas.40 Over time, discontent with the Caliphate grew. Because of the empire’s great size, it could take months for an army to reach a remote province to squash a rebellion. Because these provinces had their own armies and administrations, rebellion was tempting. The desire to rebel grew with the tax burden on the provinces and was further fed by the many religious differences that divided Muslims from non-Muslims, and the schisms within Islam itself. In the middle of the tenth century, the Islamic Empire fell apart, never to return again.41

IV. Science in the Caliphate The Islamic Empire absorbed a wide spectrum of cultures. This intermingling of different peoples, languages, and religions stimulated a flowering of Islamic culture. The wealth generated by the empire’s large common market provided Muslim scholars with the leisure to engage in intellectual pursuits.42 Moreover, the importance of commercial life in the empire influenced the direction in which Arab science developed. Where Western science came to unite itself with the strong technological bent of the northern-European people, Islamic science was primarily colored by social and commercial interests. Where Western science . . . evolved from the beginning within a tight framework of theoretical thought, Islamic science was essentially marked by a happy-go-lucky diversity of philosophical views, reflecting the crazy-quilt pattern of its various component cultures. Islamic science . . . seemed to lack the need for a consistent intellectual framework – a compelling need the West inherited from traditional Medieval philosophy. Science in the Muslim world was inspired by the pleasurable observation of nature’s diversity and the uses of its bounty for the enhancement of life. It had little concern for establishing a mastery of the mind over nature through tight philosophical systems, or for proving human power through the relentless technological transformation of the natural environment . . . (Goldstein, 1995, p. 99)

39 40 41 42

Lewis (2002, pp. 175–6). Finer (1997, p. 720). Lewis (2000, pp. 80–2). McNeill (1963, p. 434); Goldstein (1995, ch. 4).

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The Koran encourages its readers to study and try to understand nature and “to listen to the words of the scientist.” Thus, at the empire’s beginning, Islamic scholars studied all branches of science and philosophy. Much Islamic science at this time resembled the kind of humanism that appeared in Europe centuries later, with its concentration on unlocking and understanding the wisdom of the Greeks. Islamic scholars translated the scientific treatises of the Greeks into Arabic. Many of these translations found their way into the Arabs’ libraries in Spain and were discovered by the Spanish when the Arabs had to withdraw. They were an important contribution to the Renaissance in Europe.43 By the close of the ninth century . . . savants began to produce original works very much in the ancient Hellenistic spirit. The fusion of Indian and perhaps Babylonian with Hellenistic ideas stimulated fresh discoveries and the development of some important scientific devices, such as accurate balances, the astrolabe, and alembics. (McNeill, 1963, p. 438, footnotes omitted)

One of the most important ideas adapted from India and Babylonia was the number system, first used by the mathematician al-Khwarizmi in the early ninth century and passed on to us as the Arabic number system. Arabic numbers are far easier to manipulate than Roman numbers, and their adoption was a great advantage for both commerce and science. AlKhwarizmi also introduced the equation into mathematics.44 One of the many impressive advances made by the Greeks was in medicine: “Instead of regarding [illness] as an incomprehensible disaster, the work of evil spirits, as primitive cultures do, the Greeks had recognized that disease is a natural process, part and parcel of the physiological patterns of the human body. . . . ”45 Once the Arabs discovered and translated the major Greek works on medicine, they too began to regard disease as a natural process and began to develop cures. They invented various surgical instruments, and can be said to have invented hospitals, yet another invention passed on to the West.46 Although the Islamic state did not provide public goods like hospitals and schools, the Koran’s stricture that every individual engage in charitable giving resulted in the founding of hospitals and schools by charities. A thirteenth-century Syrian physician Ibn al-Nafis wrote a medical treatise on the circulation of blood that largely anticipated William Harvey’s work four centuries later. It remained almost unknown, however, and had no influence on Harvey’s research. 43 44 45 46

McNeill (1963, pp. 437–8); Goldstein (1995, ch. 4). Goldstein (1995, pp. 123–4). Goldstein (1995, p. 102). Goldstein (1995, p. 99).

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Astronomy was taken up by the Arabs after the translation of works by Aristotle and Ptolemy on astronomy. Although the Arabs made no important theoretical advances in astronomy of the type that Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton were later to make, their advances in optics and measurement instruments made it possible to make more accurate charts of the movements of the planets and stars, and these astronomical observations were an important input into later breakthroughs in astronomy in Western Europe.47 Thus, the bulk of the Arabs’ scientific advances relied on what we have termed first-level causal inference rather than the theoretical model building characteristic of the second level of science. Islamic science had a “bent toward the empirical, the specific, the emphatically concrete,” and this bent led to a host of inventions of practical importance. Many of these served as inputs to the theoretical advances that would later take place in Europe. In addition to Greek works in science, the Arabs were, of course, also familiar with the Greek philosophers’ writings. “The Greek emphasis – whether pagan or Christian – upon logical argument and syllogistic reasoning constituted a standing challenge to a faith based solely on the Koran and the Traditions.”48 Nevertheless, particularly after the great compromise under Abbasid rule in the ninth century, when the Caliph transferred the handling of matters of religion over to the ulema, some scholars were allowed to follow the philosophic-rationalistic ideal. Until the breakup of the empire, they were to be found in the caliph’s court and the high society that surrounded it. Notable among these was “the polymath al-Farabi (d. 952), who explicitly rejected all forms of revealed religion and made the reconciliation of Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy his life work.”49 One might have expected that the breakup of the empire would have brought an end to the cultural and scientific advances in its territories. Quite to the contrary, however; if anything, it gave them a boost. Instead of only one seat of power and wealth at which an iconoclastic savant could reside, there were now many, and thus the possibilities for patronage were in fact greatly increased.50 By the beginning of the fourteenth century, however, the study of science in the Muslim world had gone into decline. Historians differ as to the cause of this decline, and there is almost certainly no single cause, but there can be no question that it occurred and that the Islamic world has never recovered from it. Part of the explanation for the 47 48 49 50

Goldstein (1995, p. 103). McNeill (1963, p. 435). McNeill (1963, p. 438). McNeill (1963, p. 440).

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eclipse of science in the Muslim world must lie in the basic incompatibility of religion and science – between believing and questioning. Although the Koran encourages its readers to use their powers of reasoning, Islam also teaches that the Koran is the revealed word of God and cannot be challenged. Truth can be discovered either through the study of nature or the study of the Koran, and the Islamic world has largely given up the former for the latter. Thus, we find Islamic scholars today looking for scientific advances in the pages of the Koran: “Relativity, quantum mechanics, Big Bang theory, embryology, and much of modern geology has now been ‘discovered’ in the Koran.”51

V. Appraisal Finer summarizes the achievements and failures of the Caliphate as follows: The great historic accomplishments of the Caliphate were that, first, it acted as a kind of factory for converting its subjects and also the eastern pagan barbarians – notably the Turks – to Islam. Next, it maintained an immense common market, which moreover, controlled the Golden Road to Central Asia and distant Cathay. Finally, inside this area it stamped a common social structure and way of life on its subjects and created a cultural universe where, as in medieval Europe, scholars and pilgrims could wander and root themselves freely anywhere between Atlantic Oxus and Indus, within a common idiom of arts, learning, and literature. The Caliphate was in these respects a momentous and irreversible turning-point in world history, and all the more stupendous for being so unexpected and immediate. But in respect to any advances in governmental practice, or political thought, or individual liberties, or the prosperity of the peasantry, or finally the sheer, simple power to survive, the Caliphate was a conspicuous failure. (Finer, 1997, p. 725)

Our interest is in the links among rational thinking, religion, an orientation toward improving life on this earth, and democracy. In this context, the Caliphate and the Islamic religion that underpinned it are somewhat of an anomaly. On the one hand, unlike Christianity, which focuses heavily on the nature of one’s religious beliefs, Islam focuses on one’s actions. Thus, while Christian scholars were occupied during the Middle Ages debating the fine points of life in Heaven, Mohammed and his followers were preoccupied with changing the behavior of individuals in this life. Goldstein (1995, ch. 4) places great emphasis on the importance of Islam’s this-world orientation for its many significant advances in the arts and sciences. Still, the main point in controlling an individual’s behavior in this life was to ensure that she would be able to enjoy the next one. 51

Sardar (2007, p. 133), spelling of “Koran” changed.

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In Sumer, the state and religion were combined, and religion was used to solidify the subjects’ support for the state. This was also true in the Caliphates of the Umayyads. ‘Abd al-Malik (685–705), for example, had the Dome of the Rock built on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem to symbolize to Christians and Jews the triumph of Islam as a religion and the Caliphate as a state. Many inscriptions on the Dome convey this message. The following one is directed at the Jews: God bear witness that there is no other God but he, and so too the angels, those who possess knowledge, and stand firm in justice. There is no God but he, the omnipotent, the omniscient. God’s religion is Islam . . . Let whoever disbelieves in the signs of God beware, for God is swift in reckoning. (Koran, 3:18–19)

After quoting this part of the Koran, Lewis goes on to observe: The meaning of all this is at once political and religious. Only religion can justify empire. Only empire can justify religion. Through his apostle Muhammad and his vice regent the caliph, God has given a new dispensation and a new order to the world. In this first great religious structure dedicated to the new faith, its worldly head, the caliph ‘Abd al-Malik, asserted Islam’s connection with the precursor religions, and at the same time made clear that the new dispensation had come to correct their errors and to supersede them. (Lewis, 2000, p. 70)

After the compromise under the Abbasids, however, religion and the state effectively became separate. Support for the state then rested entirely upon the fear of punishment. Because the subjects had no legal protection against the state, this fear was very real. Caliphs did, of course, continue to attempt to use religion to strengthen their position by claiming that their authority was conferred by Allah or that they descended from Mohammed. Neither claim was totally convincing, however, and thus the empire’s leadership lacked legitimacy, which explains the continual and violent struggles when a new caliph was selected. This legitimacy-vacuum was the empire’s essential vice of origin. Islam was incompatible with anything but a theocratic ruler or college. So, reacting to the surliness or active hostility of parts of the population, the caliphs responded by putting it under something not far removed from a military occupation. (Finer, 1997, p. 726)

The separation of religion and state after the compromise helps explain the extent of corruption in the late part of the Caliphate. The Koran minutely defined what a Muslim was to do in his private life. The caliph, vizier, or tax farmer who said his prayers five times, did not eat pork or drink alcohol, and fasted during the Ramadan might reasonably think that his place in

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Heaven was secured, and that he was free to offer or take bribes, and torture those who failed to pay their taxes. As Finer notes, Islam seems to be only compatible with a theocracy. The Koran defines so explicitly what each person should do that it is not clear what is left for citizens to vote on. Still, bridges must be built, roads constructed, and other public services provided, and so one could imagine a role for democracy even in an Islamic state. No notable thinker appears to have had such thoughts under the Caliphate, even though the Muslims’ knowledge of Greek writings must have made them aware of the properties of a democratic state. We have emphasized the distinction between progressive and traditional societies in earlier chapters. Progressive societies are forward-looking, science-based, and oriented toward improving welfare in this life. Traditional societies look to the past for guidance and revere the wisdom of the sages of yesteryear. The extremely important role the Koran played in defining the culture of the Caliphate and continues to play in all Islamic societies today makes both essentially traditional. After quoting “Sayyid Qutb, the godfather of modern revolutionary Islam,” to the effect that Muslims should return to their roots, Esposito comments: This statement by Sayyid Qutb illustrates the extent to which Muslims rely heavily on the past for meaning and guidance in the present. Many non-Muslims might be prepared to understand a believer’s return to the Quran and Sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad for guidance, but they would be astonished to learn the extent to which the ideas of medieval and pre-modern theologians and movements directly impact the world of Islam today. Both modern reformers and radical extremists draw (often selectively) on the teachings and examples of early Islamic revivalist thinkers and activist movements to justify their contemporary jihads, their holy and unholy wars. (Esposito, 2002, pp. 43–4)

A clearer description of a traditionalist society is difficult to find. Today, there is much speculation over why Muslim societies have fallen so far behind the West, and have even been passed by recently poor countries like South Korea and Taiwan. Equally conspicuous is the absence of democracy in most Muslim countries. The characteristics we associate with modern states – high incomes, market oriented, science oriented, democratic, and secular – all seem to be missing in Muslim countries except for the high incomes in the oil-rich Muslim countries. It is difficult not to attribute these features of the Muslim world to the role Islam plays in it. Church and state were fused at Islam’s inception and continue to be intertwined in many Muslim countries today. The education systems of most Muslim countries, with their heavy emphasis on rote learning and the study of the Koran, are

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not conducive to developing the inquisitive, iconoclastic mind of a scientist. Even the ritual of daily prayer must continually draw a Muslim’s mind back to the origins of his faith centuries ago, and remind her of the many things she is not allowed to question. Turkey is the conspicuous exception to these generalizations and is also the exception that proves the rule. Following World War I, Ataturk realized that Turkey could only be brought into the modern world by wrenching it out of the Muslim world. Arabic writing was replaced with a Western alphabet, schools were forbidden to teach religion, head scarves and fezzes were banned, and a new constitution created a completely secular state. And, to a large degree, it worked. In recent decades, its economy has grown at an Asian-tiger pace. New, private universities offer educational programs comparable to those of the United States and the rich countries of Europe. Its record as a democracy is behind that of, say, Canada and Sweden, but miles ahead of its Muslim neighbors in the Middle East. Its progress on both the economic and democratic fronts makes it a legitimate candidate for entry into the European Union. At the same time, Turkey illustrates the conflict between modernity and traditionalism. Despite the often heavy-handed methods of the military to prevent Islamic parties from capturing the state and turning back the clock, political Islam has been on the rise in Turkey. At the time of this writing (July 2008), an Islamic party controls the government. The mere existence of a party that defines its identity by its religion underlines the tension between liberal democracy and religion. Do Muslims have different views about the need for a bridge or more spending on fire protection than non-Muslims? Do their religious convictions lead them to favor bigger government deficits or higher taxes? The raison d’ˆetre of a religious party must be to implement policies that reflect and advance the interests of its religious supporters. The current Turkish government has attempted to do this by passing a law that would allow women to wear head scarves at university – a symbolic break with the secularism that has existed in Turkey since the time of Ataturk. The Turkish high court overruled the government on this occasion, but the conflict between secularists and Muslims is far from over in this country. How this conflict unfolds in Turkey will go a long way toward answering the question of whether Islam and liberal democracy can successfully coexist. Will the advance of Islam in Turkey be able to reverse Ataturk’s reforms and carry it back into the Muslim world, or is the pull of modernism with its promise of prosperity and individual freedom strong enough to keep Turkey on the path that Ataturk started it on?

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Although there are those in Turkey who would like to take it back a century to before Ataturk, other more radical elements in Iran and other parts of the Muslim world would like to go still further back in time. They see the problems of their world stemming from too much modernism and “the abandonment of the divine heritage of Islam” and advocate “a return to a real or imagined past.”52 Osama bin Laden even calls for a reestablishment of the Caliphate. When one contemplates its history, one wonders which of its features he and his followers seek to restore – the prosperity brought by the giant common market and the flowering of the arts and sciences that this prosperity for a brief period allowed or the brutal repression of the average subject in the Caliphate and the total corruption of its leaders? Thus, more than two hundred years after Condorcet ([1795] 1955, p. 45) lamented that the war between philosophy and superstition that began with the death of Socrates was “still being waged amongst us between this same philosophy and the oppressors of humanity,” we see that the oppressors of humanity have yet to be defeated, and the war is still far from over. 52

Lewis (2002, pp. 176–7).

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. . . whence it follows that the entire fabric of human reason which we employ in the inquisition of nature, is badly put together and built up, and like some magnificent structure without any foundation. For while men are occupied in admiring and applauding the false powers of the mind, they pass by and throw away those true powers, which, if it be supplied with the proper aids and can itself be content to wait upon nature instead of vainly affecting to overrule her, are within its reach. There was but one course left, therefore, – to try the whole thing anew upon a better plan, and to commence a total reconstruction of sciences, arts, and all human knowledge, raised upon the proper foundations. (Francis Bacon)1

The period between the fall of the Roman Empire and the Renaissance is commonly referred to as the Dark Ages. It was a period of prolonged economic contraction during which scientific and technological progress, as well as learning in the humanities, appeared to stand still. Most modern historians reject the notion that a great awakening occurred with the coming of the Renaissance.2 For example, many features of the humanism that we associate with the Italian Renaissance can be observed in the Carolingian Renaissance of the eighth and ninth centuries. Nevertheless, the dominance of the Church and its interest in propagating canon law greatly limited the scope for the study of the so-called pagan literature until the late Middle Ages when a dramatic change began to take place, particularly in Italy, in the way people viewed the world and their attitudes toward nature.3 The Italian Renaissance came forth in two stages. The first extended from the eleventh century to about 1300, the second from the late thirteenth to the late 1 2 3

Bacon (1620, pp. 5–6). Nauert (1995, pp. 1–7). Goldstein (1995, p. 43), Nauert (1995, pp. 8–13), Mann (1996, pp. 2–5).

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sixteenth centuries. In the first stage, social energies – economics, politics, a vibrant demography – were primary and foremost; in the second, the lead went to cultural energies . . . In their respective strengths, the two stages were not afterward to be surpassed, whether in matters of invention (as in business technique), bold inquiry, or enduring addition to the history of Europe. (Martines, 1988, p. 332)

These changes were stimulated to a great degree by the revival of economic activity during the late Middle Ages and the expansion of international trade that helped foster it. These, in turn, led to population growth and migration from the countryside into the towns and cities.4 From the end of the eleventh to the late fifteenth century, Italian ships ruled the Mediterranean. The wealth of Genoa and Venice derived from trade with the Eastern Mediterranean and Asia (Levant). Contact with the Levant stimulated artistic and intellectual creativity, and led to the rise of the city-state culture.5 The concept of civility became associated with living in towns and urban life: “In whatever context it was used, the key element in the notion of civility was the imposition of rational principles of nurture on an originally untamed nature.”6 The profound shift in mentality in the Renaissance is symbolized by the rise of humanism. Humanist thought was historically conditioned and the rise of a new sense of history was the crucial innovation associated with the Renaissance, underlying the “rediscovery” and reinterpretation of classic texts, the emphasis on “practical” rather than ‘speculative’ knowledge, the keen sense of the limits of human reason, and in general the whole revulsion from medieval tradition which became the most striking trait of Renaissance thinkers. (Nauert, 1995, p. 19)7

Although modern historians may question whether the Renaissance constituted a dramatic break with the Middle Ages, Renaissance humanists thought they were living in a “New Age.” The sense of being deeply engaged in the restoration of true civilization after many centuries of barbarian darkness finds its first clear statements in the works of Petrarch, and some claim is common to virtually all of those writers (Salutati, Poggio, Valla, Ficino, Erasmus) whom historians identify as the crucial figures in the history of humanism . . . It was the defining characteristic of Renaissance humanism. (Nauert, 1995, pp. 20–1) 4 5 6 7

Martines (1988, p. 9), Goldstein (1995, pp. 60–1). McNeill (1963, p. 546). Hale (1993, p. 365). See also, Mann’s (1996, p. 2) definition of humanism, and the discussion in Reeve (1996, pp. 21–3).

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Perhaps, the most read of the classical writers was Cicero, whose studia humanitatis gave rise to the term humanism. Cicero appealed to Renaissance humanists, because he, like they, took active civic life for granted: “Moral philosophy for the Romans represented the art of observing the highest ethical standards while living usefully and enjoyably within a large community.”8 Cicero’s studia humanitatis – the study of the liberal arts – became the model for the humanists’ educational program. This program included the study of history, art, ethics, poetry, and virtually all branches of what we think of today as the humanities. It is exemplified in the work of Petrarch, “often considered to be the father of humanism.”9 We now discuss developments in this period in religion, science, and politics.

I. Religion St. Augustine’s thought epitomizes the religious thinking of the Middle (Dark) Ages. A profound concern for the afterlife, and almost a disdain for everyday life on earth is evident in his writings: When . . . the question is asked what we are to believe in regard to religion, it is not necessary to probe into the nature of things, as was done by those whom the Greeks call physici; nor need we be in alarm lest the Christian should be ignorant of the force and number of the elements – the motion and order of the eclipses of the heavenly bodies; the form of the heavens; the species and nature of animals, plants, stones, fountains, rivers, mountains; about chronology and distances; the signs of coming storms; and a thousand other things which those philosophers either have found out or think they have found out . . . It is enough for the Christian to believe that the only cause of all created things . . . whether heavenly or earthly . . . is the goodness of the Creator, the one true God.10

In this brief statement, Augustine nicely encapsulated the friction between Christian belief and scientific knowledge that has characterized Christianity since its beginning. Although Thomas Aquinas attempted to reconcile the gap between the medieval scholar’s focus upon the spiritual world and people’s increasing concern in the late Middle Ages with the present world, he too wished to constrain freedom of inquiry: 8 9 10

Hale (1993, p. 358). Mann (1996, pp. 8–9). St. Augustine, Enchiridion, J. F. Shaw, trans., Edinburgh, 1872, ch. 9, as quoted in Goldstein (1995, p. 57).

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Yet pry not into that secret, and meddle not in the mystery of the birth of the infinite, nor presume to grasp that which is the summit of understanding: but understand that there are things thou canst not grasp.11

Medieval religious thinking was dominated by scholasticism – the application of abstract reasoning (Platonism) to questions of faith. A famous example of such reasoning during the eleventh century was St. Anslem’s ontological proof of the existence of God – because God is the highest form of being that we are capable of contemplating, he must exist. Scholastic debates could be long, pedantic, and sterile. It was against this sterility that the humanists revolted. “On the whole . . . the attack on scholasticism, the matter and manner of medieval university teaching, was restricted to its emphasis on training the mind without affecting the heart. Too much time was devoted to ingenious riddles. . . . ”12 Thus, it cannot be said that logical or rational modes of thought were absent during the Middle Ages. Quite the contrary, they were developed to an excruciatingly high degree. Because no hypothesis could be tested and refuted, medieval religious scholars were free to construct extremely elaborate theories about life in Heaven, the attributes and behavior of devils and angels, and almost anything else that caught their fancy. Because the medieval Christian mind focused on Heaven and life after death, the scholarship of the Middle Ages produced little knowledge that would ease human life on earth. This proclivity to ignore the world around them is perhaps understandable, because the world around the medieval scholar seemed chaotic and barbaric after the fall of Rome, an event that many thought had brought an end to civilized life. Humanism shifted the focus of intellectual inquiry to the present world. The humanists sought to understand this world through a careful analysis of classic Roman and Greek texts. This understanding would eventually lead to discoveries that improved present life. Humanists sought to achieve this goal by educating the social and political elite. From the histories of Rome and Greece, urban elites would learn how to govern and how to behave properly in their newly-formed civil societies. As noted in Chapter Five, rhetoric and dialectic were invented by the Greeks and were an important part of the writings of Cicero, Virgil, and other Roman scholars. Rhetoric and dialectic were also widely used by the scholastics to advance their theories about Heaven and Hell. Humanists continued the emphasis on rhetoric and dialectic, because they were engaged in the task 11 12

Summa contra gentiles, Book I, ch. VIII, as quoted in Goldstein (1995, p. 249, n.). Hale (1993, p 197).

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of educating the political elite, for which rhetoric was a valuable tool of persuasion.13 Humanism “sought through the didactic force of historical study to turn political men into better statesmen and statesmen into more moral men. It urged the study of moral philosophy so as to school citizens in their obligations.”14 Humanists were not antireligious and some, like Erasmus, placed great emphasis on moral teaching.15 Indeed, so strong was the Church’s hold on the humanists’ minds that they did not turn the critical powers of analysis they applied to Greek and Roman texts onto the Bible until relatively late in the Renaissance (late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries).16 The humanists’ emphasis on critical analysis – first of the ancient texts, later of the Bible – did, perhaps, give rise to a willingness to question and challenge authority and thus paved the way for the popular acceptance of criticism of the Church that came with the Reformation. The humanists’ emphasis on life on this earth was also at odds with the teachings of the Church.17 By the late Renaissance, humanism’s emphasis on criticism led some of its proponents to religious skepticism – most notably Franciso Sanches (c. 1550–1623) and Michel de Montaigne (1533–92). Montaigne, for example, observed that both one’s religion and the language one speaks are accidents of where one was born.18 Although humanism’s emphasis on understanding the natural world led to advances in art, history, mathematics, medicine, anatomy, and the natural sciences, mystic beliefs and faith in the predictive powers of the stars remained strong throughout the Renaissance. . . . belief in the occult flourished exceedingly in the fifteenth century and showed little sign of decrease in the sixteenth. This was the height of the witchcraft delusion, especially in Germany. It was a great age of magic and demonolatry: the age of Faust. Astrology . . . was made available to the masses . . . (Hall, 1994, p. 20)

By the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Catholic Church was a powerful, hierarchical organization with its own laws and courts. Power corrupts all, however, even men of God, and many had grown rich selling places in Heaven to the aristocracy. Many had also adopted lifestyles inappropriate to pious Christians. In 1517, when tradition claims that Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses to the church door in Wittenberg, the Christian world 13 14 15 16 17 18

Martines (1988, pp. 191–9), Mack (1996). Martines (1988, p. 210). Nauert (1995, p. 163). Hamilton (1996). Nauert (1995, pp. 55–6). Nauert (1995, pp. 211–12). See also, Grafton (1996, pp. 205–6).

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was ripe for revolution. Although much of the support for the Reformation came from people who were disgusted by corruption within the Church and the decadent life styles of many of its clergy, according to Nauert (1995, p. 163), “For Luther and his most perceptive followers, the real issue of the Reformation was not crooked priests or even superstitious ceremonies, but true doctrine.” The Reformation set off a competition between the Protestant and Catholic Churches over who had knowledge of the true doctrine. Each side had to prove that it represented and espoused the true teachings of Christ. The result both of Protestant zeal and reactive Catholic rigour was to increase awareness of sinfulness among the sensitive of both faiths. For fear of contamination and to parade their own orthodoxy neighbors turned informer to an increasingly overworked Inquisition . . . It was the jumpiness and inflexibility within the tautened religious convictions of both Protestants and Catholics that brought denunciation and burning of witches to epidemic proportions. Psychological depression, characterized as ‘melancholy,’ was a condition medical literature had discussed since antiquity. But never before had so much attention been paid to this expression of hopeless, undealable with inner confusion, that followed the introduction of the Reforms. (Hale, 1993, pp. 462–3)

Although witchcraft was already a crime in the fifteenth century, punishments for witchcraft increased in frequency and severity during the Reformation. Some one hundred thousand people were put to death. Eighty percent were widows and spinsters who, as loners in the community, could be easily targeted and accused by their neighbors.19 Between 1587 and 1593, 368 persons were burned as witches in Toulouse alone; 260 were burned in the village of Ellwangen, Germany, in just two years.20 Neither branch of Christianity was adverse to killing to protect their doctrinal purity. Protecting doctrinal purity was also the goal behind much Church censorship. Inquisitors – another overworked corps of repressors – rarely showed more interest in convincing unimportant suspects of their doctrinal errors than in swiftly and if necessary cruelly extorting blanket vows of obedience. ‘I confess and believe,’ ran one formula to be sworn to, ‘that the Holy Roman Church is the true church and communion of the faithful, outside of which there is no salvation.’ . . . The prohibition was not only against sensual suggestiveness but also narrative detail that distracted from the work’s doctrinal import . . . (Hale, 1993, p. 474) 19 20

Hale (1993, pp. 446–7). Hale (1993, p. 448).

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At its outset, the Reformation was both an attack on the Catholic clergy’s corruption and decadence, and on its belief that the clergy were the true and only source of religious authority. For the Protestants, religious authority stemmed from the word of God as contained in the Bible. With time, however, the Protestant clergy began to espouse the word of God just as dogmatically as the Catholic clergy, and it became ever as much authoritarian and totalitarian in its ways dictating, in the case of Calvinism, not only the clothes one was allowed to wear but also the names one could give to one’s children.21 The Reformation was supposed to reestablish the word of God as revealed in the Bible. The Bible teaches mercy and forgiveness. Neither branch of Christianity showed much mercy or forgiveness to the many accused of heresy and witchcraft that were tortured and burned to death. Neither branch seemed cognizant of the Fifth Commandment as both sent troops off to kill and be killed during the many religious wars that began in the sixteenth century. As with so many wars, the lives of innocent subjects were sacrificed for the ideological beliefs and goals of their leaders – the only difference in this case was that the leaders were men of God who sent their followers off to die in the name of God.

II. Science As attention shifted in the late Middle Ages from contemplating life in Heaven to life on Earth, people’s curiosity about the world about them reawakened. As early as the twelfth century, the study of natural philosophy was established in France at the School of Chartres. During that century science supplanted the liberal arts at Chartres as the main focus of study. The term natural philosopher stood for scientist until the 1830s, when the latter term came into use.22 “Seven centuries of Christian teaching about the place of nature in the scheme of God were being challenged at the School of Chartres.”23 The Chartres naturalists questioned the view of the Church and St. Augustine that all creation took place in six days; Thierry of Chartres reinterpreted the Book of Genesis. William of Conches conceived of nature as a system “distinguished by three features: first, by the very fact that it represented indeed a consistent system; second, by the dynamic conception on which it was based; third, by his singular grasp of nature’s essential 21 22 23

McNeill (1963, pp. 589–90). Mokyr (2002, p. 63). Goldstein (1995, p. 69).

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autonomy, which, as he realized, made it accessible to the rational mind. Each one of these aspects was of fundamental significance.”24 The proposition that there are laws of nature “accessible to the rational mind” was also central to Francis Bacon’s thinking (see quotation at the beginning of this chapter). Bacon believed that nature could be tamed by understanding it and then using it for the benefit of mankind. He “foresaw an age of science, some six or seven hundred years yet to come, with a sharpness of vision that is stunning in its prophetic detail.”25 Thus, even before the Renaissance began, a rise of rational, scientific thinking could be discerned. Nevertheless, the hold of mysticism and superstition was strong. Many great scientific names of the era – Bacon, Dee, Brahe, Galileo, Kepler, Newton, Albertus Magnus, Napier – combined rational thought in some areas with mystic, superstitious beliefs in others. Bacon and Newton practiced alchemy. Dee, Brahe, Galileo, and Kepler believed in astrology. Kepler, the great astronomer, even supported himself mainly by working as an astrologer designing calendars and writing horoscopes.26 In 1595, he used the stars to predict famine, a peasant uprising, and a war with the Ottomans – all of which came to pass.27 His writings in astronomy were so full of mysticism that the importance of his scientific contributions only became apparent long after his death. Yet slowly, rational thought triumphed over superstition and mysticism. Alchemy gave way to chemistry; astrology to astronomy; numerology to mathematics. The central preoccupation of Renaissance humanists was the recovery and restoration of classic Greek and Roman texts.28 By concentrating exclusively on dissecting the wisdom of the past, the humanists could be accused of failing to use their intellectual powers to develop new knowledge that would advance the welfare of mankind. The humanist Montaigne leveled such a criticism at his contemporaries, and Bacon and Descartes were even harsher. Bacon treated Renaissance humanism, like scholasticism before it, as a fatal disease of learning. The humanists had failed to see that the world had changed, that modern voyages were more extended, modern empires more far-flung and modern technology more powerful than those of the ancients. They had confused the ‘antiquity’ of the Greeks and Romans – the fact that their texts had existed for a long time – with the authority that can be invested only in people, who continue to learn as 24 25 26 27 28

Goldstein (1995, p. 83). Goldstein (1995, p. 83). Hall (1994, p. 288). Hall (1994, pp. 169–70). Hall (1994, p. 18).

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they age, not in books, which are impervious to experience (if not to damage). The philology of the humanists, with its obsessive citation and imitation of authorities, had been an intellectual distraction from the thinker’s true mission of extending man’s empire. The humanists had entirely failed to see how much they could have learned from the practical men of their own day, whose theories about the natural world rested on practical experience, not mere textual exegesis . . . (Grafton, 1996, p. 205)

Although the humanists were mainly concerned with classical contributions to the humanities, the movement awakened an interest in all Greek and Roman texts, including those dealing with mathematics and science. Ptolemy’s Geography, translated in 1410, described the Earth as a sphere and gave a spark to both the study of geography and astronomy. Galen’s book on anatomy, published in the second century ce, gave impetus to the study of anatomy.29 Pliny’s Natural History “fascinated the humanists.”30 More generally, the rediscovery of Pythagoras’ writings at the beginning of the twelfth century had a profound influence on the natural philosophers of the late Middle Ages and Renaissance. His belief that the universe followed natural (mathematical) laws found expression in the work of Copernicus and Kepler, who described laws concerning the movement of the planets. Pythagoras’ “universal mathematics” is reborn in the seventeenth century in the work of Descartes.31 Many classical texts were discovered in the libraries that the Muslims left behind as they withdrew from Europe.32 As we saw in the previous chapter, Muslims made important contributions in several branches of science, and the Europeans built on their work. The Muslims’ inventions and scientific advances were largely confined to the first level of reasoning. This can also be said of many developments in Europe during the late Middle Ages and Renaissance. For example, even Leonardo da Vinci was not so much a contributor to the growth of scientific knowledge but rather was first and foremost an extremely talented inventor.33 However, thanks in part to the influence of Pythagoras and Plato and to the scholastic tradition inherited from the Middle Ages with its emphasis on abstraction, science also advanced on the second, propositional level of knowledge during the Renaissance. 29 30 31 32 33

Hall (1994, p. 129). Grafton (1996, p. 214). Goldstein (1995, p. 54). Goldstein (1995, ch. 4). Goldstein (1995, p. 232).

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Theoretical reasoning and the application of mathematics were nowhere more evident than in astronomy. When he wrote De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium Libri Sex (Six Books on the Revolution of the Celestial Orbs), Copernicus did not set out to revolutionize astronomy, but only to correct some inaccuracies in Ptolemy’s Almagest. De Revolutionibus follows the structure of the Almagest, but Copernicus substituted Pythagorean mathematics for Ptolemaic and thereby produced a revolutionary work.34 Johannes Kepler was also concerned by discrepancies between the observed positions of planets and predictions made under the assumption – which went back to the Greeks – that their orbits were circles. Kepler, like his Greek predecessors, believed that the cosmos obeyed mathematical laws, and he toiled to discover them. He was the first to establish that planets’ orbits are elliptical, and that there is a relationship between a planet’s speed and the size of its orbit.35 During the Middle Ages, scientific advances were mostly made in the monasteries and there was a tendency to keep them secret. An important development of the Renaissance was the creation of an international community of scientists who shared ideas. This development arose in part because of the invention and spread of the printing press and in part because of changing attitudes toward knowledge by those making scientific advances. This change is most famously illustrated by Galileo Galilei, who championed the scientist’s right to speculate about the true laws of nature and to communicate these speculations without interference. Galileo failed to retain this right for himself, but in the end won it for his followers.36 The theoretical contributions of Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo paved the way for the Scientific Revolution of the seventeenth century. Indeed, Kepler’s work was so mystical that it became widely known only after Isaac Newton discovered and disseminated it. With the work of Newton, Descartes, and the other giants of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, theoretical reasoning became dominant in science. The Scientific Revolution that began in the Renaissance laid the foundation for the Industrial Revolution of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.37 The history of science from the late Middle Ages to the Scientific Revolution of the seventeenth century is one of a gradual displacement of superstition and mysticism with rational, scientific analysis. This development was 34 35 36 37

For further discussion, see Hall (1994, ch. 3). For further discussion, see Hall (1994, ch. 10). For further discussion, see Hall (1994, ch. 11). Mokyr (2002, ch. 2).

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spurred by the shift in focus from the spiritual world, which could not be observed, to the actual observable world. Clearly, this adjustment of vision was the most important experience of the Western mind in its emergence from the Middle Ages – possibly in its entire history . . . Science, in this profoundly unsettling (and profoundly stimulating) process, was cast in a particular strategic role. Increasingly, the ‘scientific approach’ came to exemplify the modern outlook, focused on the concrete objects of the world, to the exclusion of everything that is not observable with senses or demonstrable through impeccable rational argument. (Goldstein, 1995, p. 170)

The medieval alchemist believed (hypothesized) that there were invisible, primary substances – like phlogiston – that underlay all matter and sought to uncover their secrets in his laboratory. He shared with astrologers the “belief that terrestrial nature, from man to minerals, was intimately connected with the wider nature of the universe. . . . ”38 The chemists who eventually displaced the alchemists accepted only those hypotheses that could be verified by experimentation, just as the astronomers abandoned the astrologers’ charts to predict the movements of stars and planets in favor of the theories of Kepler and Galileo. Similar transformations took place in medicine and other sciences. The triumph of rational, scientific thought over mystical and superstitious beliefs was not without struggle and some bloodshed. Although Copernicus died too soon after the publication of De Revolutionibus to get into trouble with the Church, eventually both the Catholic and Protestant branches came to regard Copernicanism as heresy. Galileo’s main adversary was Pope Paul V, who “was no friend to scientists and literary men, disliked ingenious subtleties, and was inclined to think that Galileo’s opinions must be pernicious and heretical, since they were scientific, literary, and ingenious.”39 Pope Paul V issued an edict in 1616 forbidding Galileo to defend and teach Copernican theory. Galileo believed, however, that it was still possible to discuss Copernican theory in a hypothetical manner and took up the latter again in his Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief Systems of the World published in 1632. The Church banned the book – a ban not lifted for more than two hundred years – and famously forced Galileo to recant publicly his belief that the Earth circled the sun or face banishment from the Church and possibly torture and death. Galileo bowed to the Church. In the end, however, the Church proved incapable of defending scripture 38 39

Hale (1993, p. 566). Hall (1994, pp. 329–30).

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against scientific discovery, and Copernicanism and the other advances in astronomy and the sciences during the Renaissance were accepted.

III. Politics A. The Feudal State Following the collapse of the Roman Empire, Europe entered into a period with elements of Hobbes’ state of anarchy. In many parts, institutions that could impose order were lacking. At roughly the beginning of the second millennium after Christ, an institution that did impose some order emerged – feudalism.40 The organizational chart of a feudal state would look something like that of a modern corporation. At the top, where the president would be in a corporation, was the king. Below him were a set of vice-presidents – barons or their equivalent – who were the feudal state’s chief tenants. Each chief tenant administered a portion of the king’s lands. A chief tenant in turn apportioned “his lands” among lower order tenants. At the bottom of the pyramid, where a foreman or crew chief might be in a factory, were the knights who also had their tenants to work the land. They were joined by freeholders with a contractual relationship to the knight, but also villeins who had no rights vis-´a-vis the lord of the manor. However, villeins did have certain rights and obligations to the rest of the community. With the possible exception of the villeins, all members of the system were free to alter their contractual status. Although a feudal state’s organizational chart resembled that of a modern corporation, a better analogy would be a franchise system because each member was tied to the others by contracts that specified the rights and obligations of all parties. The king’s primary obligation was to protect his tenants. They possessed a right to protection, but had obligations to offer their military services to the king when demanded. These rights and obligations were protected by a set of legal institutions with a court of the chief tenants resolving disputes. Each party to a contract, except for the villeins, was free under certain conditions to break the contract and form a new one with someone else. As with marriage contracts, such ruptures did not always transpire smoothly, however, and many led to violence. All members of the system (save for the villeins) recognized the voluntary nature of the associations, and even the 40

Throughout this section all dates are ce.

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villeins would eventually be able to find freedom by seeking refuge in one of the towns that developed alongside of feudalism.41 Not surprisingly, these personal freedoms under feudalism gave rise to notions of individualism and reinforced other developments during the late medieval period that replaced the rather organic conception of community that existed prior to 1100 ce with a more individualistic one.42

B. West European City-States Although the contractual/egal structure of a feudal state provided order within its domain, wars between states remained common. Even within states, violence often erupted when members broke their contractual relationships. In some places like France, this led to the evolution of a centralized state with a king who had the authority to impose order. Where a centralized state did not develop, as in Germany and Italy, a political vacuum existed that allowed some villages to evolve into towns, which eventually became autonomous city-states. Where the economic lifeblood of feudal states was agriculture, the town’s economic lifeblood was commerce. Everyone residing in a town for a year and a day became free with the right to possess alienable property. Within the towns, wealth could thus be amassed by skilled artisans as well as traders. Trade both within, but more importantly, between towns became an important source of wealth, and a town-based merchant class arose to rival the land-based aristocracy of the feudal system. While feudalism continued in the countryside, a political vacuum of sorts existed in the cities. In Germany and Italy, cities declared themselves to be free of the kings and knights who ruled the countryside, a freedom symbolized by the German word Freistadt (free city) that arose to describe this new form of political structure, and by the Italian expression populus libre (free people) that captured the concept of local sovereignty that evolved in the thirteenth century.43 In Italy between 1070 and 1140, an urbanized aristocracy founded the first communes in Pisa, Lucca, Milan, and the other, major northern cities. The commune was an association of men bound together by an oath and common interests. They swore to aid and defend one another; they pooled their prestige and 41 42 43

For further discussion of the key characteristics of feudalism, see Vinogradoff ([1951] 1905) and Finer (1997, pp. 855–95). Black (1988). Martines (1988, p. 62).

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minute jurisdictions, if they had any; and they invested their consuls, the official heads of the association, with executive and judicial powers. The associates – that is, the members of the commune – swore to obey and follow the consuls, who in turn swore to defend and uphold the association in all its rights and interests. (Martines, 1988, p. 27)

Collective decisions were made by a general assembly composed of all members of the commune. Full membership in a commune remained highly restricted, however, until the advent of the popolo (populace) at the end of the twelfth and beginning of the thirteenth centuries. The popolo included members of guilds, skilled craftsmen, and merchants. They demanded and obtained a broad expansion of membership in most communes. In most cities, the legislative assembles (Parlemento) contained a mixture of nobles and normal citizens. In some – like Siena – the nobility was explicitly excluded from the general assembly.44 The rise of the popolo led to great expansions in the assemblies’ sizes – the legislative council in Pavia expanded from 150 to 1,000 during the first half of the thirteenth century, and in Milan from 400 to 900.45 In 1496, the general council in Florence had 3,300 members; in 1510 in Vicenza, it had 629, roughly 13 percent of adult males; in Siena it ranged from 12 to 15 percent of the adult male population.46 These percentages seem small by today’s definitions of democracy, but for the time implied rather broad-based representation of the citizenry. Thus, the rise of the popolo can be said to have made the Italian city-states considerably more democratic, even though many city dwellers could not participate in the general assembly.47 Moreover, the extension of the voting franchise beyond a narrow, hereditary aristocracy greatly altered the mentality of the city dwellers and of the whole Renaissance period. The popolo made for the richest movement of men and issues in all the commune’s history. It transformed perceptions of reality. The art of Giotto and his followers would have been impossible without the psychological stamp of the popolo . . . The popolo, however, by its sustained assaults on authority, altered the political and social organization of the old urban space and changed the disposition and thrust of values. This, in turn, had a pervasive effect upon the imaginative literature, political thought, and historical writing. (Martines, 1988, pp. 58–9)

The popolo dominated the life of the city-states for only a short period, however. They used violence to take and maintain power. Italian cities were divided into neighborhoods built around towers and controlled by leagues 44 45 46 47

Shaw (2006, ch. 7). Martines (1988, p. 27). Shaw (2006, pp. 171–5). See discussion in Martines (1988, ch. 3).

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of families or guilds sworn to defend one another to the death. Internal conflict was common, as were external attacks of one city on another. The general councils proved to be unwieldy and slow to reach decisions – a particularly costly defect in time of conflict. It became difficult to keep important decisions secret, which sometimes compromised a city’s army. The general councils were often unwilling to impose the taxes needed to support the army. During the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, these deficiencies led to a shift in power from the general councils to smaller committees such as the Ten in Venice and the Council of One Hundred in Florence (later of Seventy, still later of Eighty). These smaller decision-making bodies typically had a greater representation of the nobility, who were thought to have the knowledge and time to run the city. Thus, power shifted from the popolo to the nobility, and the great city-states of Florence, Venice, Lucca, Siena, Genoa, and Perugia all became effectively constitutional oligarchies.48 With the important exception of Venice, however, membership in their ruling aristocracies was based on wealth rather than inheritance, and so, in principle, was open to all. Moreover, the notion that political power ought to be open to all remained strong well into the sixteenth century. A Bolognese lawyer thought that “the basic definition of citizenship was participation in public power, that is, participation in the burdens and the honors of the city.” As late as 1575, Silvestro Facio of Genoa used the occasion of the coronation of a new head of the city-state (doge) to stress the continued importance of the popolo: “He who betrays the popolo, betrays the republic, because public affairs, as they do not belong to any private individual, of necessity belong to all, to the great and the small, the rich and the poor.” The doge’s duty was to implement “the general will [volere universale] that can easily be learned from the Great Council, that represents the will of all.”49 Here we see a very Greek conception of citizenship and the state. Participation in the “burdens of the city” was the chief criterion for citizenship, and the state and its leaders were to follow the “will of the people” as expressed directly by them in the general assembly.

C. Venice Where the other city-states began as democracies of sorts with citizens exercising authority through the town assembly and then later transformed 48 49

Martines (1988, chs. 5, 9) uses the term constitutional oligarchy. See also, Shaw (2006, ch. 8). Shaw (2006, pp. 306–7).

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themselves into oligarchies and eventually were displaced or taken over by monarchies, Venice followed the opposite path by evolving from a monarchy to a democracy, albeit one that was quite unlike that of Athens. Venice existed as an independent state from roughly 500 to 1800. At the beginning of this period, it resembled many other states in their early phases, including the Greek city-state, with a king (doge) at the top with considerable authority, a Great Council to advise him, and an assembly of citizens. Over time, the doge’s powers were stripped away until he became little more than a figurehead, and the role of the assembly to elect members to the Great Council was abolished so that the assembly also disappeared. The year 1297 is often regarded as a defining moment in Venice’s political history – the closing (Serrata) of membership in the Great Council. From then on, membership was made to depend on birth rather than election by the assembly of citizens. Gerhard R¨osch (2000) has questioned this interpretation, however, arguing that the transformation took place over the span of years from 1286 to 1323. Moreover, at least two more Serrata occurred at the beginning of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when the definitions of persons eligible for membership in the Great Council were altered.50 In the first of these two Serrata, for example, thirty new families were added to the Great Council’s membership, thereby mitigating some of the potential dangers of stagnation and decay from rule by a hereditary aristocracy. Over the next two and a half centuries, all of Venice’s doges were drawn from these thirty families.51 Despite these changes in membership in the Great Council, it must be recognized that Venice was essentially unique among the Renaissance citystates in Italy in never providing a direct role in governance to the popolo. Venice is often compared to Florence and in many ways they were similar, especially with respect to the role of the aristocracy. Yet in one very important way they were quite different. Just as Rome’s constitution was a product of incremental changes with no overall logical structure, Florence’s constitution also evolved in response to political power struggles and lacked coherence. Both the Roman and Florentine constitutions had an abundance of checks and balances. In Florence, these arose to protect one group of aristocratic families from another. Executive positions were for short durations and were filled from among the aristocracy by lot. The result was an unwieldy and ineffective constitutional structure whose weaknesses were perhaps best revealed by contrasting the performance of the republic with 50 51

Chojnacki (2000). Kindleberger (1996, p. 59).

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that of Florence under Lorenzo Medici after its republican structure was discarded.52 In contrast to Florence, Venice’s constitution had clearly delineated lines of authority, with decisions made by various small committees elected by the Great Council. All officers were elected rather than chosen by lot. The amount of thought that went into the constitution’s design is perhaps best illustrated by the elaborate procedure for choosing a new doge. It was designed to ensure that no faction (group of families) could control the doge’s selection. It also consisted of a long, complicated process in which the selection committee was first expanded and then contracted through a series of steps involving both voting and random selection. Although the procedure looks arcane, it clearly demonstrates that the Venetian constitution was the product of rational if somewhat convoluted design.53 Finer wrote, “The most arresting, attractive, and significant feature of this [Venetian] society was its civic sense . . . the Venetian combined a tenacious patriotism with a deep respect for the law, and together these generated a sense of state and civic dedication, a gravity and realism in public affairs that existed nowhere else in Italy.”54 The Venetians were Catholics to be sure, but they did not let their religious beliefs color their judgments on civic matters, a fact that Pope Pius II lamented, “they [the Venetians] are hypocrites. They wish to appear Christian before the world but in reality they never think of God and, except for the state, which they regard as a deity, they hold nothing sacred, nothing holy.”55 Thus, one can say that Venice, like Ancient Athens, was a secular state. Finer (1997, p. 983) asserts that “Florence was never a democracy,” because political power lay with its aristocracy, and the same might be said of the other Italian republics – Lucca, Siena, Genoa, and Perugia.56 It follows a fortiori that Venice was never a democracy, because its power base was even narrower than in Florence. I do not share this judgment, because we should not think of democracy as a 0/1 variable. Following Aristotle, we might say that rule by one is monarchy, rule by one hundred oligarchy, and rule by all democracy. But then what should we call rule by 20 percent of the population – democracy or oligarchy? In a country of one hundred thousand, 20 percent is twenty thousand people, far too many to gather in 52 53 54 55 56

See Finer (1997, pp. 964–85). For descriptions of the procedure, see Finer (1997, pp. 998–9) and Coggins and Perali (1998). Finer (1997, p. 992). Taken from Finer (1997, p. 1019), original source Gilbert (1968, p. 467, n. 3). See also, Canning (1988, pp. 353–4) and Martines (1988, p. 148).

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a smoke-filled room; in the United States today it would be roughly sixty million people. If democracy means that everyone older than age eighteen is eligible to vote, then neither the United States in 1800 nor Great Britain in 1900 were democracies. Indeed, by this criterion the United States did not become a democracy until 1920 when women obtained the right to vote or perhaps not until the 1960s, when blacks in the South obtained the de facto right to vote thereby giving practical effect to the de jure right they received a hundred years earlier. Rather than say that none of these countries were true democracies, I would rather say they were all democracies with, in some cases, narrow definitions of the voting franchise. The fraction of the population that ruled Venice for five hundred years was similar to that eligible to vote in the United States at its founding.57 An issue explored later is whether democracies with broad voting franchises perform best. Regardless of whether one describes Venice as an oligarchy with a broad base or a democracy with a narrow franchise, one cannot deny that it was a success. Finer (1997, p. 1016) passed an unequivocal judgment. From the fourteenth to the eighteenth-century Venice’s government “was the best in the world.”58 Voting franchise aside, it fulfilled all of the criteria one might set for a democracy. Its citizens – aristocrat and commoner alike – possessed rights to association, mobility, free speech, and religious tolerance and enjoyed equality before the law: “The justice of Venice was famous throughout the whole of Europe.”59 It was one of Europe’s richest states and its government was popularly supported. Although citizen uprisings were common in other city-states, they did not occur in Venice, and no standing army or large police force was needed to maintain order. If democracy’s goal is to protect and advance the welfare of the citizens, then Venice with its limited franchise fulfilled this goal to a measure that few states have accomplished – and did so for five hundred years. Why ? Luck perhaps, but other states could have emulated the Venetians’ luck. Its commercial success was certainly an important factor, because it reduced the incentive to focus politics on zero-sum redistributions. With ample opportunities to become rich by engaging in trade, a Venetian did not have to try to lay claim to his neighbor’s wealth. The popolo never became strong in Venice, and thus it was spared the internal strife that accompanied 57 58

59

Finer (1997, p. 1016) estimates that Venice was ruled by about 2.5 percent of the population; the figure in the United States in the 1790s might have been 3 percent. Not all historians are as enamored with the achievements of the Republic of Venice as Finer, however. See, for example, Martin and Romano (2000b), and contributions in Martin and Romano (2000a). Finer (1997, p. 1017).

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their rise in other Italian republics: “The high offices in Venice were regularly occupied by men who were peers both socially and economically.”60 Because eligible voters were drawn from the peers of the community, they were better educated than the average citizen and thus capable of making better collective choices for the community, if they so chose. But why did they so choose? Why did the aristocracy not use its power after 1297 to exploit the nonenfranchised majority of the population? Why did a Machiavellian doge not scheme to usurp power in the five hundred years after the Constitution of 1297 went into effect? Luck again perhaps, but luck that had a logical basis. Although the electorate of twelve hundred to fifteen hundred persons at the beginning of the thirteenth century constituted a small fraction of the citizenry, it was far too large to be easily melded into a tight coalition bent on exploiting the non-voting population. Large fractions of the Great Council must have always existed that would have opposed such moves. On the other hand, the Great Council was small enough to overcome free-riding. The fate of Venice lay in the hands of a permanent group of families; the physical scale of Venice was such that they would have known most other members personally. Because each member of the Great Council knew that he and his descendants would remain in office indefinitely, Venetian politics could avoid the focus on short-run political gains that characterizes all modern democracies. Although it would not be inevitable for a joint sense of responsibility to arise in such a group, it is immanently possible that one would. Here one must add the Venetian’s “civic sense, . . . tenacious patriotism, [and] . . . sense of solidarity under the laws,”61 which would supply the intrinsic motivation to govern wisely and fairly for all of the community. These qualities of character existed in Athens at its height and in Rome at the height of its republic; perhaps they are essential qualities in a citizenry for successful democracy.62

D. The Dutch Republic Although quite different from Venice in many ways, the Dutch Republic (which lasted for roughly two centuries from the end of the sixteenth century to the end of the eighteenth century) was another important political innovation emerging out of the Renaissance. The Netherlands was part of 60 61 62

Martines (1988, p. 159). Finer (1997, p. 992). On the similarity between Venice and Rome, when “the [Roman] Republic was at its best,” see Finer (1997, p. 993).

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the northern Renaissance with Erasmus its most well-known contributor to this movement. The Protestant Reformation was particularly successful in the northern part of the Lowlands during the sixteenth century. Unfortunately for the Dutch, the Lowlands were also a good location from which to launch attacks on France and thus were coveted and controlled for much of the sixteenth century by the Habsburgs. In the middle of the sixteenth century, the Habsburg Philip, king of Catholic Spain, decided to suppress the rise of Protestantism in the Netherlands. All Protestant sects were declared heretic, and the Spanish Inquisition set up shop in the Netherlands. The Dutch rebelled, but their rebellion collapsed in April 1567. Philip sent Don ´ Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, third duke of Alva, to govern the defeated Dutch. Alva “was one of the principal nobles of Castile and unswerving, even fanatical, in his detestation of Protestant heresy. His reputation was of a man of iron . . . coldly austere and rigidly authoritarian with a streak of harsh irritability in his makeup.”63 Under Alva, Protestant repression resumed between 1567 and 1572 with 8,950 Dutch citizens sentenced for treason or heresy of which 1,000 were executed. Adding insult to injury, the Spanish also increased the tax burden on the Dutch. In effect, they were asked to pay higher taxes to support an army that occupied their country and persecuted its citizens. The Dutch again rebelled and, this time under the leadership of William of the House of Orange, were successful.64 The Dutch Republic took form during the period 1588–90. It was organized as a confederation of the seven provinces. Each province got one vote in the States General, the republic’s legislative body, although the provinces could send more than one delegate to a meeting of the States General. Delegates were elected by provincial assemblies and city councils, some for limited terms of office and others for life. The central government was largely constrained to defending the Republic in time of war. It collected only about one-fifth of the tax revenues in the Republic.65 In addition to the legislative bodies that governed the Dutch Republic at both the provincial and central levels, there often existed a post called the Stadholder. Stadholders were a kind of governors of the provinces, responsible for appointing judges and a small number of other administrative tasks. Their most important role, however, was to command the armies in time of conflict. In times of peace, therefore, many provinces chose not to have a Stadholder as, for example, during the relatively peaceful period from 63 64 65

Israel (1995, p. 155). Israel (1995, chs. 8, 9). Israel (1995, p. 285).

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1658 to 1672. When war with England, Germany, and France broke out in 1672, the Stadholder reappeared. In time of war, just as during the rebellion against the Spanish at the end of the sixteenth century, the Dutch invariably turned to the House of Orange for a Stadholder to lead them in battle, and they did so again in 1674 at Utrecht when they selected William III as Stadholder for Holland, Zeeland, Utrecht, Gelderland, and Overijssel, and hereditary captain-admiral-general of the Republic. When William III died in 1702, however, another long period without a Stadholder commenced (1702–47). In 1747, for the first time in its history, there was a single Stadholder for the entire Republic – William IV of the House of Orange.66 The Dutch Republic, like Venice, had an elected chief executive – when it had one at all – and was effectively ruled by those citizens who could participate in the city councils and elect, or be elected to, the States General. The nobility were an important component of this electorate, but, unlike in Venice, voting was not restricted to the nobility. After the revolt against the Spanish, successful merchants and even skilled artisans could participate in politics.67 The Netherlands was also similar to Venice in having a relatively open economy based on trade. The country grew prosperous through international commerce particularly during the seventeenth century. Compared at least to its neighbors, the Dutch Republic was also tolerant of new, even radical ideas. Religious tolerance was part of William of Orange’s revolutionary agenda in the revolt against Spain and, except with respect to Catholics in the north occasionally, existed throughout the Republic. Descartes, Hobbes, Rousseau, Voltaire, and Locke all sought refuge in the Netherlands at some time. Indeed, Roger Congleton (2008) argues that the revolt against the Spanish, the confederation founded after the revolt, and the toleration of free speech and religion found within the Republic all directly or indirectly influenced events and thinking in the American colonies two hundred years after the Dutch revolt. Although the Dutch Republic was certainly an important step in the development of democratic and liberal institutions, it was not without its blemishes. As it went into decline during the eighteenth century, income inequalities grew large and citizen revolts appeared – unlike in the Republic of Venice. Although arguably a highly successful example of republican government, the House of Orange always stood ready to lend one of its leading sons – always named William – to take over as a kind of elected monarch when the Republic was in military difficulty. The House of Orange 66 67

Arblaster (2006, ch. 4). Israel (1995, pp. 341–51).

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even lent one of its Williams to Great Britain at the end of the seventeenth century to take over the throne from the unpopular Catholic monarch James II. Thus, the Dutch Republic often exhibited many of the features of a constitutional monarchy. Tellingly, when Napoleon was defeated and the French king he had imposed on the country was removed, the Netherlands did not revert back to being a Republic, but became a monarchy with yet another William of Orange as its first king.68

IV. Conclusions As the second millennium enfolded, the Church gradually lost some of its grip on the minds of Europeans. Attention turned away from the world of God and life after death toward the present world and life upon it. This change in perspective had enormous consequences for all branches of learning and for Europe’s social and political structure. The most profound changes occurred in the arts and humanities. The rediscovery of nature changed the way artists depicted both nature and humans. Humans became more lifelike. Nature’s rediscovery and renewed interest in the works of Greek and Roman scholars also significantly affected the development of the sciences. The great discoveries in astronomy are perhaps the most famous and conspicuous of the scientific advances during the Renaissance, and the ones that brought science in most direct conflict with the Church, but progress could be observed across virtually all branches of science. Indeed, one of the most important scientific developments of this period was the invention of the scientific method itself as, for example, in the work of Francis Bacon. The developments in science in the late Middle Ages and Renaissance illustrate the slow triumph of practical reasoning over mysticism and superstition during this period. Although humanism was not antireligious and many of the great humanists like Erasmus were very religious, the reorientation of interest toward nature and contemporary life did introduce an important degree of secularism into intellectual circles. This secularism helps explain the rise of science. As Goldstein (1995, p. 43) observed, “ . . . the most consistent and fertile scientific endeavors are nourished by what one may call a ‘secular’ attitude – one in which the immediate sense of perception plays a central 68

For a discussion of the Dutch Republic, see the encyclopedic Israel (1995) or the much shorter Arblaster (2006). Congleton (2008) shows the close links between the events creating the Dutch Republic and its institutions and the events and institutions of the first American Republic under the Articles of Confederation.

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and fully recognized role. . . . Science seems to grow most luxuriantly in cultures with a positive attitude to the world of the senses; it appears to wither in cultures with an emphatically spiritual, other worldly bent.” The ancient world had a great appreciation for nature and the enjoyment of life. This spirit was lost during the Middle Ages bit reemerged in Italy with the rise of humanism. The growth of secularism is also conspicuous in the politics of the period. City-states in Italy and Germany were centers of manufacturing and commerce. Their political institutions were intended to advance and protect the interests of the merchant and commercial aristocracy that created the wealth of the cities, and this economic aristocracy controlled the city-states’ political institutions. In some cases, most notably Venice, the aristocracy ruled in such an enlightened manner that the entire community – not just the aristocracy – benefited. Thus during the Renaissance, Europe returned to the course first set by the Greeks of becoming a modern, science-based society with secular democratic institutions. Only glimpses of what was yet to come could be seen in Venice, some other city-states, and the Dutch Republic, but the direction of movement was clear. Nevertheless, superstition and traditionalism continued to exercise a strong hold on much of Europe. During the first part of the Renaissance, many places in Europe were engaged in hunting down witches and exorcizing demons. After the Reformation, both Catholics and Protestants could turn their attention toward torturing and burning those charged with heresy by each sect. Although the Church was not particularly troubled by the early discoveries of Copernicus and other scientists, following the schism and the rise of Protestantism it became a reactionary force in defense of its dogmas. Thus, the Renaissance also vividly illustrates the conflict between modernity and progress on one side and tradition and superstition on the other. This conflict can even be seen in the thinking of some Renaissance scholars like Kepler who could not separate his logical, mathematical reasoning about the movements of stars and planets from his mystical belief in some grand design for the universe. By the seventeenth century though, science had begun to win its battle against superstition and traditionalism, and philosophy emerged from the confines of the monastery to resume the place of prestige it obtained in Ancient Greece. The work of Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza, and most notably John Locke would have great impact on Enlightenment thinkers of the eighteenth century as would the discoveries of Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, and especially Isaac Newton. They had set the stage for the greatest attack on superstition and traditionalism since that launched by the Greeks.

EIGHT

The Enlightenment

The sole foundation for the belief in the natural sciences is this idea, that the general laws directing the phenomena of the universe, known or unknown, are necessary and constant. Why should this principle be any less true for the development of the intellectual and moral faculties of man than for the other operations of nature? (Marquis de Condorcet [1795]1955)1

During the Enlightenment (also called the Age of Reason), man’s confidence in his ability to reason rose to heights not seen since the Ancient Greeks and arguably unsurpassed to this day. Although the term is typically used to describe eighteenth-century intellectual developments, the Enlightenment is largely an extension and expansion of seventeenth-century thinking. We begin, therefore, by reviewing some of the major intellectual developments of the seventeenth century.

I. Seventeenth-Century Foundations of the Enlightenment A. Rationalism, Empiricism, and Scientific Methodology During the Renaissance, the attention of scholars focused heavily on the humanities. By the middle of the sixteenth century, “the awakening” that demarcates the Renaissance had fully spread to the sciences. A Scientific Revolution began that continued through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and it has continued more or less uninterrupted until the present day. We have already discussed the advances in astronomy by Kepler and Galileo at the beginning of the seventeenth century. In the life sciences, the major accomplishment was William Harvey’s discovery of the circulation of blood (De Moto cordis et sanguinis, 1628). Just as improvements in telescopes 1

As quoted in Henry (2004), pp. 24–5.

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advanced the work of Galileo and other astronomers, improvements in microscopes led to advances in life sciences by Robert Hooke, Nehemiah Grew, Antoni van Leeuwenhoek, and Jan Swammerdam and in chemistry Robert Boyle (1627–91). Mokyr (2002, pp. 36–7) states that “the Industrial Enlightenment’s debt to the scientific revolution consists of three closely interrelated phenomena: scientific method, scientific mentality, and scientific culture.” Henry (2004) also emphasizes the importance of the development of scientific methodology during the Scientific Revolution. The real legacy of the Scientific Revolution was not simply a bundle of newly established knowledge. Its importance was to show how yet more discoveries might be made, and how new truths about the world and everything in it could be established and understood. In short, the Scientific Revolution pointed the way to progress, and the new methodology of science became a major factor in the development of Enlightenment optimism. (Henry, 2004, p. 11)

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, two quite different approaches to science were put forward, approaches that had their antecedents in the work of Pythagoras and Aristotle and their followers. The French approach emphasized purely rational thinking and was epitomized by Ren´e Descartes (1596–1650). Descartes can also be said to have launched modern philosophy and was certainly the most important philosopher since the Greeks.2 His logical proof of God’s existence began by questioning everything – that I am sitting in this room and not just dreaming, that the objects that I think I see are real, and not just reflections or illusions. One thing was certain, however: I am having these thoughts. Thus, I must exist – cogito ergo sum – I think, therefore I am. Although Descartes’ proof of God’s existence was not new strictly speaking, when combined with the rest of his rationalistic philosophy it was nothing short of revolutionary. If a thinking man sitting before the fire in his bedroom could logically demonstrate God’s existence, then God existed. No appeals to holy men or holy books were needed. Although Descartes, a practicing Catholic, no doubt believed that his proof buttressed Catholic dogma, in the long run it undermined it. If one person could offer a proof of God’s existence, so could others – and many did. Moreover, it opened the door to someone logically proving that God does not exist. Indeed, Descartes was attacked by Protestants, because they believed that his views led to atheism.3 2 3

Russell (1945, pp. 557–8). Russell (1945, p. 559).

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Descartes’ ambitions extended beyond establishing a rational foundation for the existence of God. He sought to develop a complete, logical system from first principles, a science “that would explain metaphysical, physical, biological, and psychological reality with all the certainty of a geometrical demonstration.”4 Here the similarities between Descartes and the Pythagoreans, who believed that there was a mathematical basis for everything, are most apparent. If the Enlightenment was the Age of Reason, then Descartes must be regarded as one of its most important precursors, because no philosopher has placed more faith in the power of reasoning than Descartes. For him, true knowledge could only be obtained through reason. The foundation of Descartes’ theoretical system was the supposition that all matter was composed of tiny, unobservable particles in constant motion. It offered a more plausible explanation of natural phenomena than Aristotelian theory, which was still being taught at universities, and completely displaced Aristotelian theory on the Continent over the course of the seventeenth century. Yet Descartes’ system was pure speculation, or as Voltaire characterized it, “ingenious romance.”5 Isaac Newton’s Philosophae Naturalis Principia Mathematica (1687) destroyed Cartesian physics and turned scholars away from Cartesian philosophy.6 The alternative to the French approach to science was the English approach put forward by Francis Bacon in The Great Instauration and Novum Organum. Baconian scientific method is the polar opposite from Cartesian. Bacon eschewed hypothesis formulation and theorizing. For him, scientific understanding came through observing the natural world and running experiments. Boyle’s research on vacuums and other experiments of the seventeenth century gave dramatic testimony to the value of Bacon’s purely inductive approach. It would be Isaac Newton, however, who would combine the abstract reasoning of Descartes with Bacon’s empiricism to produce what we think of as the modern scientific method. Newton showed that a single set of laws explained the motions of both the planets in the heavens and objects on earth. Moreover, these laws could be expressed in relatively simple mathematical terms, and their predictions empirically verified. No one after Newton could question the existence of the so-called laws of nature, nor man’s capability of discovering these laws. He had demonstrated both. 4 5 6

McNeill (1963, p. 683). See Henry (2004, pp. 14–15). McNeill (1963, p. 684).

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Although Newton’s research focused on discovering the laws of nature governing inanimate objects, others were quick to conclude that human behavior must also be governed by natural laws and began to search for those laws, as the quote of Condorcet that opens this chapter reveals.

B. Contractarianism 1. John Locke. The idea of political communities emerging out of a state of nature through a social contract can be found in the work of Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) and more famously of Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679). Hobbes used the metaphor of a social contract to construct a defense of monarchy – life in anarchy was “nasty, brutish, and short,” and only a monarch could bring order to a community. John Locke (1632–1704), in contrast, used the metaphor to undermine the notion that kings ruled by divine right and thus paved the way for monarchies to be replaced by republican forms of government. Like Descartes, Locke had great faith in humans’ powers of reason. At birth, the human mind is a tabula rasa – blank slate – that can acquire knowledge and the capacity to reason through education. With their powers of reasoning, humans are capable of discovering the laws of nature. Isaac Newton had proved that such laws existed. Locke assumed that they applied to both inanimate objects and humans.7 For Locke, political power was “a right of making laws . . . for the common good.”8 To understand the nature of political power, one needed to understand the state of nature. To understand political power aright, and derive it from its original, we must consider what state all men are naturally in, and that is a state of perfect freedom to order their actions and dispose of their possessions and persons as they see fit, within the bounds of the law of nature, without asking leave, or depending on the will of any other man. A state also of equality, wherein all the power and jurisdiction is reciprocal, no one having more than another; there being nothing more evident than that creatures of the same species and rank, promiscuously born to all the same advantages of nature, and the use of the same faculties, should also be equal one amongst another without subordination or subjection . . . (Locke, [1690b]1939, I, §4, p. 404) 7 8

Locke’s ideas about human capacities to reason are developed in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding ([1690a]1939). Locke ([1690b]1939, p. 404).

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Thus, Locke used the state of nature to establish an extreme form of equality across all individuals. Starting from such a state of equality, it would obviously be difficult to develop an argument for why one individual should be master over all others. Hobbes’s argument relied on the extreme violence present in the state of nature. Locke’s state of nature was quite different from Hobbes’s, however. Though this be a state of liberty, yet it is not a state of licence . . . The state of nature has a law of nature to govern it, which obliges everyone; and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind who will but consult it, that, being all equal and independent, no one might harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possessions. (Locke, [1690b]1939, p. 405)

Thus, individuals in Locke’s state of nature are governed by a law of nature that teaches them – we might say commands them – not to harm one another. Given that everyone is governed by reason in the state of nature and obeys laws of nature that forbid harming the “life, health, liberty, or possessions” of others, a reason for leaving the state of nature is less obvious in Locke than in Hobbes. Locke is clear, however, that the act of leaving is by mutual consent. Men being . . . by nature all free, equal, and independent, no one can be put out of this estate, and subject to the political power of another, without his own consent, which is done by agreeing with other men to join and unite into a community for their comfortable, safe, and peaceable living one amongst another, in a secure enjoyment of their properties, and a greater security against any that are not of it. This any number of men may do, because it injures not the freedom of the rest; they are left as they were in the liberty of the state of nature. When any number of men have so consented to make one community or government, they are thereby presently incorporated, and make one body politic, wherein the majority have the right to act and conclude the rest. (Locke, [1690b]1939, VIII, §95, p. 441)

Here Locke hints that life in anarchy may not be all that peaceful after all, and that government might contribute to the community’s “comfortable, safe, and peaceable living.” A more modern justification for forming a state is that there are certain public goods that benefit all members of a community – roads, schools, bridges, and dams – and thus institutions for making collective decisions are required. Such collective decisions are unlikely to emerge spontaneously out of a state of anarchy. Locke also slips in, almost as an aside, that collective decisions in the new political community will be made using the simple majority rule without addressing the issue of whether the use of this will not destroy the equality that existed in the

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state of nature by giving a majority of citizens the right to tyrannize over a minority. Later, Locke states in the same spirit, “Any political society is nothing but the consent of any number of free men capable of a majority to unite and incorporate into such a society. And this is that, and that only, which did or could give beginning to any lawful government in the world.”9 There is considerable ambiguity about whether Locke believed that a state of nature as he described it once existed, and the first states were formed by free men joining a social contract but were subsequently corrupted and transformed into tyrannies, or that he merely used the concepts of a state of nature and social contract to form a logical underpinning for his attack on monarchy. If we view these concepts in the latter way, and argue that a state of nature and social contract as Locke described them never existed, then the implication of the earlier quote would be that all governments up until then had been unlawful. Indeed, the first government in history to come close to satisfying the conditions laid down by Locke would be the American government created by the Constitution of 1787. American revolutionaries and the less radical of the French revolutionaries were both greatly influenced by Locke. The most radical French revolutionaries were followers of Rousseau, however, and because they eventually dictated the French Revolution’s course, we shall briefly examine Rousseau’s social contract. 2. Jean Jacques Rousseau. Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712–78) belongs in neither this section nor this chapter. He does not belong in this section, because he was not a seventeenth-century precursor of the Enlightenment having lived in the eighteenth century; he does not belong in this chapter, because despite living during the Enlightenment, he opposed most of its ideas. Indeed, he is better thought of as the father of the Romantic movement.10 Nevertheless, I discuss him here because his political theory builds on the idea of a social contract, and his ideas had a powerful influence on the most important political event of the eighteenth century – the French Revolution. Rousseau was antithetical to two of the Enlightenment program’s major components – the importance of science and education.11 He was also a bitter enemy of Voltaire, the French embodiment of the Enlightenment. Where Voltaire used his acute powers of reasoning to question religious doctrines, 9 10 11

Locke ([1690b]1939, p. 442). Russell (1945, p. 684). Russell (1945, p. 687). At the same time, it is difficult to argue that Rousseau’s thinking was totally at odds with the Enlightenment (Munck, 2000).

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Rousseau argued that reasoning could not establish God’s existence. Proof of God’s existence had to be sought in the heart, not the mind.12 Rousseau’s The Social Contract (1762) can be regarded as part of the Enlightenment agenda, however, because it was both an attack on the divine right of kings and a defense of democracy. It was recognized as such when it appeared, and forced Rousseau to flee France and prevented him from returning to his homeland Switzerland.13 Many later commentators, taking into account its influence on the radicals of the French Revolution and later advocates of tyranny, have judged The Social Contract to be an apology for despotism. This judgment is unfair. True, it contains so many obscure if not outright contradictory passages that it is open to multiple interpretations, and thus no one can claim to know with certainty what Rousseau really meant to say. Yet it is possible to offer a more benign interpretation. In reading The Social Contract, one must always keep in mind that Rousseau grew up in Geneva. When he thinks of “the state,” he is thinking of an eighteenth century, Swiss city-state like Bern or Geneva, and not Napoleonic France, much less a Nazi Germany. Rousseau reveals this by referring to himself on the title page as a “citizen of Geneva,” and on the first page of text states, “I was born a member of a free state. . . . And I am happy to say that I never turn my attention to governments without constantly discovering . . . added reasons for cherishing that of my country.”14 He also asserts that Bern and Geneva would never have fallen for “all the absurdities that a crafty scoundrel or spell-binder [like Cromwell or the Duke of Beaufort] could pass off on the people of Paris or London” (p. 163). I identify four main components to his argument. Each summary of an idea is followed by quoted passages to support the argument. 1. The social contract is joined to lift individuals out of a state of nature much like that described by Hobbes. Everyone gains by joining the social contract. (a) It is not true that the individuals, in entering into and fulfilling the social contract, are making any real sacrifice. (b) Their situation is actually better as a result of the contract than it was before. (c) They have not given anything away, but made what is purely and simply a profitable exchange; an uncertain and precarious way of life for one that is better, more secure; natural independence 12 13 14

Russell (1945, pp. 691–4). Russell (1945, p. 690). P. 1, emphasis in the original. All future page references in this section refer to The Social Contract unless otherwise noted.

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2. As everyone benefits from joining the social contract, the decision to join is unanimous. There is only one law, in the very nature of the case, requires unanimous consent, namely, the social compact itself. For the act by which people join together in civil society is, of all acts in the world, the most completely voluntary. (p. 167)

3. The purpose of government is to advance the common good. Each citizen has a set of private preferences, which conflict with one another, and a view of the common good. When citizens participate in the collective decision process, they should express their judgments regarding the common good. The aggregation of these judgments is the general will. Implementation of the general will advances the common good. A number of men assembled together has a single will, looking to their common preservation and general well-being, just to the extent to they think of themselves as a single body. The state, where men do so think of themselves, draws its energies from sources that are potent and pure; its principles are clear and unmistakable. It contains no interests that get in one another’s way, or conflict. The common good reveals itself plainly so that nobody with a little good sense can possibly fail to see it. It offers, in a word, maximum guarantee against error on the part of the general will. (p. 162, emphasis in original) When a law is proposed in the assembly of the people, the individual members are not, by any means, asked whether they approve or disapprove of the proposal, [i.e., what their private preferences are] but rather this: Does it or does it not conform to the general will, which is their own? This is the question on which the individual expresses his opinion when he votes, and it is from the totaling of such votes that a declaration of the general will emerges. If then the view contrary to my own carries the day, that merely proves that I was mistaken, and that what I took to be the general will was not. (p. 169, emphasis in original)

4. The common good is sacrificed as citizens’ private preferences come to dominate their judgments about the common good. Let us suppose now a state in which the social bond has begun to ware thin. It has, we assume, entered upon its decline; particular interests have begun to make themselves felt in it, and narrower associations to affect decisions of the wider group. The common interest, in such a state, is clouded over, and

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encounters opposition; votes cease to be unanimous; the general will is no longer the will of everybody. (p. 164, emphasis in original) The better ordered the state, the more do public affairs crowd private ones out of the minds of the citizens, so that the very incidence of private affairs is a great deal smaller . . . Under a bad government, by contrast, every last citizen begrudges the steps that carry him toward the meeting-place, for the following reasons: (a) the business transacted there excites nobody’s interest, (b) the citizen knows beforehand that the general will is not going to prevail, and, finally, (c) everyone’s time is completely mortgaged to his domestic concerns. Good laws make for better laws, bad laws for worse ones. And you can write any state off as lost as of the moment when some citizen, in speaking of its affairs, asks the question: “What difference does it make to me?” (p. 148, emphasis in original)

These quotations reveal a view of the state remarkably close to that of pioneers of public choice like Knut Wicksell ([1896]1967) and James Buchanan and Gordon Tullock (1962). The state comes into existence to increase the welfare of all individuals; once formed, its collective decisions should also increase the common good. The first quotation under 3 suggests that when the citizens’ judgments of the common good are close enough together, the unanimity rule can be used to reveal the common good (general will). The second quotation under 3 resembles the argument contained in Condorcet’s Jury Theorem discussed more fully in Chapter Ten. All citizens want to advance the common good, but they have different judgments of what laws will achieve this end. An implicit assumption in Rousseau’s argument, explicit in Condorcet’s proof, is that the probability of any citizen making a correct judgment about the common good exceeds 0.5. If this is the case, aggregation of individual judgments using the simple majority rule leads to the correct judgment with a probability that approaches one, as the community’s size increases. If the decision goes against a single voter, then she was wrong in her judgment about the common good. The second thing to note is that Rousseau had a conception of citizenship similar to that of Ancient Athens. The citizen is concerned with advancing and discovering the common good. Social bonds are strong, and “public affairs crowd private ones out of the minds of the citizens,” reducing the sphere of private decisions. Given this interpretation, one might expect Rousseau to have been a fan of Athenian democracy. Alas, no; such consistency cannot be found in Rousseau. It was Sparta to which he was partial. This partiality sends up a red flag for those who suspect Rousseau’s motivations.

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Most of the earlier quotations are from later parts of The Social Contract. In the early parts, the notion of the general will is often vague and it is unclear how it is revealed. If one assumes that the general will is not related to individual citizens’ preferences, then the concept becomes worrisome, because Rousseau sees citizens as sacrificing their personal freedoms to the general will. Whoever refuses to obey the general will shall be constrained to do so by the entire body politic, which is only another way of saying that his fellows shall force him to be free. For this is the undertaking that dedicates each citizen to the fatherland, and thus insures each citizen against personal dependence of any kind. (p. 25)

If one assumes that the general will is revealed by the Communist Party or an Adolph Hitler, then phrases like forcing citizens to be free and dedicating them to the fatherland conjure up frightening images from more recent times. If, on the other hand, one thinks of the general will as a set of laws that have been adopted unanimously for the purpose of advancing the common good, then being free implies living in a community in which one has participated in creating the laws. In such a community, Rousseau can be seen as saying – to obtain the common good, citizens must be constrained to obey the laws, which they helped write. Bertrand Russell (1945, p. 699) objected strenuously to the following sentence from The Social Contract: “It is therefore essential, if the general will is to be able to express itself, that there should be no partial society within the State, and that each citizen should think only his own thoughts.” Russell complains that this would eliminate all associations – such as political parties, trade unions, and church clubs. “The result is obviously the Corporate or Totalitarian State, in which the individual citizen is powerless.” A more benign interpretation of the passage would be simply that Rousseau was anticipating James Madison’s warnings in Federalist 10 of the dangers to democracy from factions. Here it is perhaps also worth noting that the attractive normative properties of the Condorcet Jury Theorem rest on the assumption “that each citizen should think only his own thoughts.” Rousseau also is less protective of property than Locke – it would be difficult to have been more protective – and places considerable emphasis on income equality. Here too, one can read illiberal meanings into The Social Contract. Without denying the merit of some of the more sinister interpretations, I believe the most accurate interpretation of the book is as a spirited attack on monarchy and defense of a rather extreme form of democracy.

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II. Religion in the Enlightenment A. Attacks on Christianity Descartes’ rationalism and the wondrous success of Newton’s empiricism gave rise to great trust in the powers of reason. No proposition was to be accepted purely on the basis of authority – be it of a great thinker like Aristotle, the Church, or the State. Every proposition had to be put under the microscope of logical reasoning, and when possible, empirical testing. Individuals had to be free to allow their powers of reasoning to take them anywhere. Those who adopted this attitude were called freethinkers. A prominent freethinker himself, Anthony Collins (1676–1729) “defined freethinking as the impartial use of the understanding to: (a) determine the meaning of propositions; (b) access the evidence for and against them; and (c) judge their truth or falsity, their probability or improbability on the apparent strength or weakness of that evidence.”15 Note here the similarity between freethinking and scientific method – hypothesis (proposition) formulation, weighing of evidence for and against, and acceptance or rejection of the hypothesis. Freethinkers claimed that all propositions, including religious ones, should be subject to the same standards of justification. Locke expressed this position in the following way: “He that takes away reason, to make way for revelation, puts out the light of both, and does much-what the same, as if he would persuade a man to put out his eye, the better to receive the remote light of an invisible star by a telescope.”16 For Locke, revelation passed the test of reason: “Revelation is natural religion enlarged by a new set of discoveries communicated by God immediately, which reason vouches the truth of, by the testimony and proofs it gives, that they come from God.”17 However, not everyone was willing to put Christian doctrines to such an easy test. Thus, during the Enlightenment, Christianity came under attack from both critics outside the Church like Hobbes and Spinoza and indirectly from those within it like Collins and Samuel Clarke (1675–1729). Collins and Clarke accepted that some Christian doctrines could not withstand close, logical scrutiny, but believed that 15 16 17

As quoted in Dybikowski (2004, p. 45). Locke ([1689]1980, p. 397). Locke ([1689]1980, p. 397).

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when all of its doctrines were considered, reasoning would confirm Christianity’s basic truth. However, by giving ground to critics in some areas, its defenders undermined confidence in the whole Christian edifice.18 One focus of attack was the claim that the Bible contained divine revelations. Critics pointed out that the Old Testament had many authors, and diverse versions existed making it difficult to know which text God had wished to communicate. Similarly, because the New Testament was written many years after Christ’s death based on recollections of those who knew him, passed down by word of mouth, its account of his life and teachings was vulnerable to the same kinds of distortions that characterize all oral accounts of events. Christianity’s claims regarding miracles came under particular attack.19 Hume’s was especially devastating: It is no miracle that a man, seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden . . . But it is a miracle, that a dead man should come to life; because that has never been observed in any age or country. There must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event would not merit that appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a proof, there is here a direct and full proof, from the nature of the fact, against the existence of any miracle; nor can such a proof be destroyed, or a miracle rendered credible, but by an opposite proof, which is superior. (Hume, [1748]1939, pp. 656–7, emphasis in the original, footnote omitted)

Hume goes on to present four reasons for not accepting miracles on the basis of testimony by supposed witnesses: First, there is not to be found, in all history, any miracle attested by a sufficient number of men, or of such unquestioned good sense, education, and learning, as to secure us against all delusion in themselves; . . . Secondly . . . The passion of surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being an agreeable emotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the belief of those events, from which it is derived. And this goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy this pleasure immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfaction, at second hand or rebound . . . Thirdly. It forms a strong presumption against all supernatural and miraculous relations, that they are observed chiefly to abound among ignorant and barbarous nations . . . a fourth reason, which diminishes the authority of prodigies, [is] that there is no testimony for any, even those which have not been expressly detected, that is not opposed by an infinite number of witnesses. (Hume, [1748]1939, pp. 657–61, emphasis in the original) 18 19

See discussion in Dybikowski (2004, pp. 41–7). In addition to Hume, Spinoza and Voltaire also zeroed in on miracles. See discussion in Dybikowski (2004, p. 50).

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These various criticisms led thinking persons of the Enlightenment to more abstract concepts of religion and God. Newton had uncovered a universe governed by a single set of natural laws – mathematical laws that could be discovered and understood by man. The beauty of these laws led many to believe that God must have created the universe – God’s omniscience includes a solid understanding of mathematics. The universe that he created is so perfect that it cannot be improved upon. Thus, it is futile to pray to God to intervene in its running, because this would imply that it was not perfect to begin with, that God had somehow made a mistake. However, this in turn would undermine the proposition that God is infallible. By such a line of reasoning, many Enlightenment scholars came to some sort of Deism – God the clockmaker created the universe and set it on its way ticking, and it would continue on the course he set forever. Using a broad definition of Deism, one can list among the British, Charles Blount, Anthony Collins, David Hume, the Earl of Shaftesbury, Adam Smith, Matthew Tindahl, and John Tolland as leading Deists; among the French, Pierre Bayle and Voltaire; among the Americans, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine, and George Washington; among the Germans, Frederick the Great and Immanuel Kant; and the Dutchman Baruch Spinoza.

B. Materialism In the discussion of local religions, we noted a distinction between mind and matter, or body and soul, as a common human response to death. A loved one’s body deteriorates, but her spirit or soul lives on. Such dualism was accepted in most Greek and Roman philosophies, and is central to all universal religions including Christianity. Materialism – the belief that matter can think – constituted a major challenge to all universal religions. Once again, Locke anticipated this development in Enlightenment thinking: We have the ideas of matter and thinking, but possibly shall never be able to know whether [any mere material thing] thinks or no; it being impossible for us, by the contemplation of our own ideas without revelation, to discover whether Omnipotency, has given to some systems of matter, fitly disposed, a power to perceive and think, or else joined and fixed to matter, so disposed, a thinking immaterial substance: it being, in respect to our notions, not much more remote from our comprehension to conceive that God can, if He pleases, superadd to matter a faculty of thinking, than that he should superadd to it another substance with a faculty of thinking . . . (Locke, [1689]1980, Book III, p. 329)

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Perhaps recognizing the slippery slope before him, Locke did not pursue the possibility of matter thinking, but left it as a hypothetical possibility if God so chose. Others, less deferent to God’s omnipotence than Locke, explored the implications of matter’s thinking. Most prominent among these was Julien Offray de La Mettrie (1709–51). In L’Homme Machine (Man a Machine, 1748), he argued that humans, animals, and plants are all machines of a sort, with humans being merely more sophisticated machines than animals and plants. “Man is not moulded [sic] out of more precious clay than they.”20 Epicurus had also rejected the dualism between mind and matter, arguing that . . . the world was a swirling mass of atoms which comprised both body and soul. The soul, in other words, was not a substance apart; nor was it intended for an afterlife. When one accepted this basic truth, Epicurus argued, one could dispel the false fears of divine punishment or eternal damnation that caused us continual anxiety and pain, allowing us to focus instead on the more enlightened goal of attaining pleasure in this world. (McMahon, 2004, p. 171)

Although Epicurus anticipated La Mettrie’s materialism by some two millennia, even during the Age of Reason it was pretty explosive stuff, and forced La Mettrie to seek refuge at the court of Frederick the Great, the great Enlightenment figure. Today, it is commonplace that matter – the brain – thinks, and we can even identify which parts “think” which thoughts, and which parts experience which pleasures. Epicurus, La Mettrie, and perhaps even Locke conjectured that this was so long before instruments existed to monitor the brain’s activities.

C. Atheism Deism eliminates any reason to pray to God to improve things in this life, because God is either unable or disinclined to intervene in the course of the universe. Materialism eliminates any reason to pray to God to improve things in the afterlife, because mind and matter are intertwined and the first expires with the second, presumably taking the soul with it. Having dispensed with all reasons to pray to God, the next logical step was to dispense with God himself. A few brave iconoclasts took this last, logical step during the Enlightenment. Because atheism was still a crime punishable by death in the eighteenth century, very few were brave enough to state openly that they were atheists, although many were willing to accuse others of being atheists. One of the 20

As quoted in McMahon (2004, p. 171). This section draws heavily on McMahon’s essay.

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most influential atheists was Paul-Henri Thiry, Baron d’Holbach (1723–89). In his underground best seller Syst`eme de la Nature (The System of Nature, 1770), d’Holbach described nature as a system of matter in motion. Because motion was a primary quality of matter, there was no need for a separate force – the mind – in the system nor any need for a Supreme Being.21 La Mettrie, d’Holbach, Voltaire, and other Enlightenment critics of religion were a small minority of the population, of course, which explains why almost everyone mentioned in this section at some time sought refuge from persecution for their ideas in another country. The average European or American remained committed to the basic dogmas of Christianity. Descriptions from many parts of Europe suggest that for a great number of churchgoers religion consisted of a mixture of assorted fragments of memorized catechism, combined with simple (sometimes almost animistic) values not far removed from paganism. Divine favour could be bought or ensured through the performance of certain rituals, and everyday events were readily interpreted in terms which the philosophes would come to regard as pure superstition. (Munck, 2000, p. 29)

Thus, for the average person during the eighteenth century, Christian religion continued to be an exchange of rituals for divine favors. However, church attendance and the performance of religious rituals like Easter communion declined over the century, and men increasingly sought male sociability in the local tavern rather than in church.22

III. The Pursuit of Happiness Happiness has often been associated with luck. The Greek word for happiness endaimonia is formed by combining the word for good, en, with the word for god or spirit, daimon. To be happy, the gods had to smile upon one. The German word Gl¨uck translates as both (good) luck and happiness, and the French word for happiness bonheur derives from the Old French word for luck or chance heur.23 To be happy, one had to be lucky. Once again, Epicurus – skeptic, materialist – was in tune with Enlightenment thinking in making happiness the ultimate human goal. Yet for Epicurus, happiness was not a gift from the gods to the lucky but a reward for a virtuous life. Epicurus and his followers, the Platonists, Aristotelians, 21 22 23

See discussion in McMahon (2004, pp. 172–4). Munck (2000, pp. 30–2). For other examples and discussion, see McMahon (2004, pp. 164–5).

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Stoics, and Zeno, all thought of happiness as a reward for virtue – a reward one enjoyed in this life not in some afterlife.24 Christianity shifted the focus to the afterlife. Thanks to Adam and Eve, man was born with the burden of original sin for which he had to atone. Christ suffered and made the ultimate sacrifice for human salvation, and humans needed to suffer and sacrifice to join him in Heaven. Man’s lot was to be patient, endure the evils of the present life, and wait for the true happiness that awaited him in the next life. And as we do not as yet possess a present, but look for a future salvation, so is it with our happiness, and this “with patience;” for we are encompassed with evils, which we ought patiently to endure, until we come to the ineffable enjoyment of unmixed good; for there shall be no longer anything to endure. Salvation, such as it shall be in the world to come, shall itself be our final happiness. (St. Augustine)25

The Renaissance shifted attention back to the present, and the Enlightenment continued this transformation. Locke again is a major figure developing this line of Enlightenment thinking. By arguing that the human mind at birth was a tabula rasa, Locke wiped the slate clean of not only all prior knowledge but all prior sin. Freed from sin, humans could fill up their minds as they pleased, and pursue whatever goal they so chose. And what should the goal in life be? The pursuit of happiness: “The highest perfection of intellectual nature lies in a careful and constant pursuit of true and solid happiness.”26 Although Locke’s devout Christianity prevented him from equating happiness with hedonistic pleasure, this next logical step was made by others like the materialist La Mettrie.27 Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832) replaced happiness as the goal of human action with utility, an amalgam of pleasures and pains that could be measured, compared across individuals, and added. Bentham’s famous prescription for society was to maximize the sum of utilities over all of its members. Much of his writings consisted of policy proposals to achieve this goal. During the first half of the twentieth century, the idea that one could measure and compare utilities across individuals fell out of favor with economists, and a great deal of effort went into demonstrating that economics’ main propositions could be derived without the concept of measurable utility or indeed without any notion of utility. Recent writing has 24 25 26 27

McMahon (2004, p. 165). St. Augustine, City of God and Christian Doctrine, book 19, ch. 4, as it appears at http:// www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf102.toc.html. John Locke ([1690a]1939, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Book II, XXI, §52). McMahon (2004, pp. 171–2).

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reintroduced the concept of happiness, however, in large part because it is believed to be measurable.28 Thus, the idea broached by Epicurus and advanced by Locke that the pursuit of happiness is “the highest perfection of intellectual nature” has come full circle.

IV. The Enlightenment Agenda It is difficult to write of the Enlightenment agenda because there were many different currents of thought with some philosophes advocating one set of reforms and others a different set. In addition, there were figures like Rousseau, who in some areas, was a leading critic of the Enlightenment and in others went further than many of his contemporaries in advocating Enlightenment ideals.29 Nevertheless, enough overlap in ideas existed to allow one to speak of an Enlightenment “programme.”30 Locke’s ideas, both with respect to the human mind and knowledge as set out in the Essay and to natural law and the social contract in the Second Treatise, again provided the inspiration – if not the foundation – for much of the Enlightenment program.

A. Education Being a tabula rasa, the human mind, like any other blank slate, could be written upon. A great deal of The Essay is devoted to the acquisition of knowledge through experience. Only by developing their capacity to reason can humans acquire the ability to control their passions, distinguish good from evil, and engage in moral and political thinking. Thus, Locke’s characterization of the human mind and the importance of knowledge became the basis for the Enlightenment’s emphasis on education.31 Those stressing education’s importance fell into three groups. Locke, Joseph Priestly (1733–1804), and Claude Adrien Helv´etius maintained that one learns from others, and thus wished to improve the quality of schools and teachers. Rousseau, champion of the noble savage, and his followers thought that children must be isolated from society to avoid exposure to bad ideas and instead must learn from nature. A third group, which included 28 29 30 31

See Frey and Stutzer (2002a,b), Kahneman and Krueger (2006), and Di Tella and MacCulloch (2006). For a discussion of the complicated relationship between Rousseau and the Enlightenment, see Furniss (2004). Finer (1997, pp. 1434–8). See discussion in Finer (1997, p. 435) and Parry (2004, pp. 217–19).

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Heinrich Pestalozzi (1746–1836) and Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), combined ideas from the first two. Kant, for example, opens his essay “What Is Enlightenment?” as follows: Enlightenment is man’s leaving his self-caused immaturity. Immaturity is the incapacity to use one’s intelligence without the guidance of another. Such immaturity is self-caused if it is not caused by lack of intelligence, by lack of determination and courage to use one’s own intelligence without being guided by another. Sapere Aude! Have the courage to use your own intelligence! is therefore the motto of the enlightenment. (Kant, 1784, p. 132, emphasis in original)

Here we see very clearly the influence of Rousseau. Elsewhere, however, Kant argues that a child must be taught how to work at the task of acquiring knowledge.32 Thus, the Enlightenment program embraced an important tenet of liberalism – through education the individual can develop the capacity to think and act for herself.

B. Religion and the Church The Protestant Reformation dispersed religious sects across Europe and led to demands for religious toleration by minority religious groups as early as the middle of the sixteenth century. Particularly effective in pressing the case for religious tolerance were the Huguenot pamphleteers who became active in France during the reign of Louis XIV.33 The Enlightenment argument for religious toleration built on Locke’s idea of the mind as a blank slate and all men being equal in the state of nature with equal natural rights. The accumulation of knowledge would lead people in different directions, and each individual had a right to his own interpretation of God. Kant directly linked the idea of a social contract to the acquisition of knowledge about religion: But should a society of clergymen, for instance an ecclesiastical assembly, be entitled to commit itself by oath to a certain unalterable doctrine in order to perpetuate an endless guardianship over each of its members and through them over the people? I answer that this is quite inconceivable. Such a contract which would be concluded in order to keep humanity forever from all further enlightenment is absolutely impossible, even should it be confirmed by the highest authority through parliaments and the most solemn peace treaties. An age cannot conclude a pact and take an oath upon it to commit the succeeding age to a situation in which it would be impossible for the latter to enlarge even its most important knowledge, to eliminate error and altogether to progress in enlightenment. Such a thing would 32 33

Parry (2004, pp. 223–35). Simonutti (2004).

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be a crime against human nature, the original destiny of which consists in such progress. Succeeding generations are entirely justified in discarding such decisions as unauthorized and criminal. (Kant, [1784]1949, p. 136)

In addition to a strong justification for each generation’s right to form its own judgments about religion, we see here Kant’s great optimism about intellectual progress, so characteristic of the Enlightenment, and the assertion that each generation must be free to write its own social contract – an assertion to be repeated by Thomas Jefferson with respect to the right of each generation to write its own constitution. Kant’s defense of religious freedom also contains a backhand slap at the professional clergy. The rigid dogmas of the Catholic Church clearly conflicted with the Enlightenment’s commitment to free inquiry, and not surprisingly, the Church came under considerable attack. Demands were made, and to some degree carried out, to reduce the number of monasteries, confiscate Church lands, and even tax the Church. Thus, the Enlightenment forced the Church to retreat on both doctrinal matters and with respect to its status and influence in society.34 Due to shortages in funding, the pace at which educational reforms were introduced as laws and edicts far exceeded the speed at which they were implemented, and universities remained almost untouched by the reform movement. Nevertheless, the desire to be able to read and participate in the intellectual debates of the day led to increases in literacy across all of Europe and a dramatic increase in the circulation of newspapers and pamphlets.35

C. Civil Liberties Freethinking was demanded not only with respect to religion, but to all social and civil matters, including the right to criticize the state. State censorship was common at the beginning of the eighteenth century and changes in the laws were slow to come and modest. However, the emphasis placed on freedom of expression by the philosophes did lead to a significant de facto relaxation of censorship in many places.36 34 35 36

Finer (1997, pp. 1436–7), Munck (2000, pp. 8, 139–42), Dybikowski (2004, p. 47). Munck (2000, pp. 42–59, chs. 4, 5). See Finer (1997, p. 1437) and Munck (2000, pp. 142–6). The French word philosophe means philosopher, but during the eighteenth century became a general term to describe all intellectuals who emphasized the importance of applying reason to all problems.

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Not only were individuals supposed to be free to think what they wanted, they were supposed to be free to do what they wanted. Both serfdom and slavery came under attack during the Enlightenment.37 To reduce a man to slavery, to buy, sell and keep him enslaved, are real crimes, crimes far worse than robbery. In effect, you are depriving the slave not only of all personal property, and wealth, but of the ability ever to acquire ownership of everything that nature has given him to survive and to satisfy his needs. To all this you are adding the further wrong of taking away the slave’s right to ownership of his own person. (Marquis de Condorcet, [1781]1999, pp. 308–9)

Woman’s suffrage was, of course, a long way off in both Europe and North America, but the obvious inference that if serfs and blacks should be free and equal, why not also women, occurred to some, like again Condorcet. Yet the strongest advocates for equality between the sexes were, unsurprisingly, women. Marie Olympe Aubry de Gouges (1748–93), a revolutionary activist, became a successful dramatist, novelist, journalist, and pamphleteer despite being illiterate. Within two years of the appearance of The Rights of Man, her The Rights of Woman was published. Its first two articles read as follows. Article I. Woman is born free and remains man’s equal in the matter of rights. Social distinctions can be based only on usefulness to the community. Article II. The goal of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and inalienable rights of woman and man. These are the rights to liberty, property, security and above all the right to resist oppression. (Gouges, [1791]1999, p. 320)

Revolutionary stuff even in revolutionary France and still revolutionary in many parts of the world today.

D. Law and Justice At the Enlightenment’s start, legal authority derived from both the state and the Church. The ceremonies practiced in courts, the rituals observed there, were meant to inspire reverence. The authorities intoned the familiar biblical injunctions about the origin of law in God’s decrees, and spoke of the necessity of obedience as an antidote to human sin. The repeated public spectacles of terrible punishments served to reinforce this message. Rulers relied upon the frequent return to these solemn events to overawe the lower orders. (McGowen, 2004, p. 504) 37

See also, Munck (2000, pp. 186–92).

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The Enlightenment’s movement to reduce the Church’s influence on social life carried over into the legal domain and led to efforts to find another basis for law than “God’s decrees.” Two lines of argument can be discerned. One finds its origin in the writing of the seventeenth-century Dutch jurist Grotius (1583–1645). Grotius argued that the principles of law were derived from natural law, not divine law. These principles could be discovered by reasoning. The diverse and confusing array of existing laws could be reduced and simplified by bringing them into line with natural law. Like many Enlightenment figures who followed him, Grotius replaced God with nature and in particular God’s law with natural law. Direct followers of Grotius in this respect were Samuel Pufendorf (1632–94) and Christian Thomasius (1655–1728). Others like Leibniz (1646–1716) and Christian Wolff (1679–1754) continued to maintain, however, that the basis of natural law was God’s law.38 The four most important Enlightenment writers on jurisprudence were Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu (1689–1755), Cesare Bonesana Beccaria (1738–94), William Blackstone, and Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832). Montesquieu’s The Spirit of the Laws (1748) was a best seller even in his lifetime. He also believed that human reason was the basis of law, but unlike many natural law theorists, did not conclude that there was a universal set of laws discoverable by reason. Law in general is human reason insofar as it governs all the peoples of the earth; and the political and civil laws of each nation should be only the particular cases to which human reason is applied. Laws should be so appropriate to the people for whom they are made that it is very unlikely that the laws of one nation can suit another. Laws must relate to the nature and the principle of government that is established or that one wants to establish, whether those laws form it as do political laws, or maintain it, as do civil laws. They should be related to the physical aspect of the country; to the climate, be it freezing, torrid, or temperate; to the properties of the terrain, its location and extent; to the way of life of the peoples, be they plowmen, hunters, or herdsmen; they should relate to the degree of liberty that the constitution can sustain, to the religion of the inhabitants, their inclinations, their wealth, their number, their commerce, their mores and their manners; finally, the laws are related to one another, to their origin, to the purpose of the legislator, and to the order of things on which they are established. (Montesquieu, [1748]1999, pp. 250–1)

Beccaria’s On Crime and Punishment ([1764]1999) was also hugely popular: “Beccaria challenged a legal system that was particularistic and reflective of a deeply hierarchical society. He proposed to replace it with a 38

McGowen (2004, pp. 508–9).

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code grounded in a particular understanding of human psychological laws. Superstition, ignorance, and laziness were the enemies he sought to combat, the sources of the mischievous measures that littered the criminal code.”39 Beccaria’s use of psychological laws is illustrated in his proposal to make “the punishment fit the crime.” Given men’s need to come together, and given the compacts which necessarily arise from the very opposition of private interests, we can make out a scale of wrong actions, of which the highest grade consists in those which spell the immediate destruction of society, and the lowest those which involve the smallest possible injustice to its private participants. Between these two extremes are distributed in imperceptible gradations from the highest to the lowest, all the actions which are inimical to the public good and which can be called crimes. If it were possible to measure all the infinite and untoward combinations of human actions geometrically, then there should be a corresponding scale of punishments running from the harshest to the mildest. But it is enough that the wise lawgiver signposts the main stages, without confusing the order and not reserving for the crimes of the highest grade the punishments of the lowest. If there were an exact and universal scale of crimes and punishments, we should have an approximate and common measure of the gradations of tyranny and liberty, and of the basic humanity and evil of different nations. Any action which does not fall between the two limits noted above, cannot be called a crime, nor be punished as such . . . (Beccaria, [1764]1999, pp. 445–6)

Note the assumption, present in many quotations in this chapter, that the community is formed by a social contract. In wanting to “measure . . . human actions geometrically,” Beccaria anticipated Bentham’s efforts to find a scientific basis for the law in utility calculations. Where continental writers, like Beccaria, sought coherence in the law through an enlightened codification, William Blackstone sought coherence in “the genius of the common law.”40 Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England (1765–69, four volumes) had a profound effect on judicial thinking in England far beyond the Enlightenment. For Jeremy Bentham, natural law and natural rights theories were “nonsense on stilts.” Laws were created by men in the legislature. Thus, Bentham, in contrast to Blackstone, was a champion of codified law. When writing the laws, the legislature needed to follow the objective of maximizing the sum of human happiness. This would give laws a scientific foundation. Bentham spent much of his life articulating the kinds of laws and public policies that would accomplish this goal. 39 40

McGowen (2004, p. 511). McGowen (2004, p. 513).

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The Enlightenment’s judicial program was more successful in some countries than in others, and in no country was it a complete success.41 Nevertheless, most legal codes were rationalized and simplified, and laws were more fairly and consistently applied. Scales of punishment were brought into line with the severity of the crime, and in several countries torture as a means of interrogation was eliminated.

E. Politics The two main targets of Enlightenment reforms were the Church and the monarchy. Dispelling the notion that a monarch rules because of a divine right was Locke’s main objective in the Essay on Civil Government. The concept of a social contract was widely accepted as an ideal if not a historical fact, and carried with it a strong implication of equality between sovereign and subjects. The widespread acceptance of these ideas caused some monarchs to offer new justifications for their rule and to attempt to rule in a more enlightened way. During the eighteenth century, a form of enlightened absolutism emerged. It is a matter of some controversy just how enlightened eighteenthcentury monarchs were, and how many of the political changes during the century were influenced by the philosophes. Indeed, some historians eschew the term enlightened absolutism entirely.42 For one thing, political reforms in Europe already began during the Renaissance, and one can speak of an “early Enlightenment” in France under Louis XIV.43 Nevertheless, there was a noticeable difference in both the thinking and the style of government of a Frederick the Great and the monarchs of the seventeenth and earlier centuries. Frederick the Great (1712–86), Prussia’s monarch, was a true man of letters. A freethinker and Deist, he was familiar with the works of Descartes, Bayle, Locke, and Voltaire, and made his own contributions to Enlightenment thinking, most notably in Antimachiavell (1739–40) and Essai sur les formes de government et sur les devoirs des souverains (1777).44 In the latter, he developed a defense of monarchy based on a social contract between the monarch and his subjects, which resembled Hobbes’s social contract in many ways. The monarch was obligated to protect his subjects from external threats, guarantee domestic peace and the rule of law, and more generally 41 42 43 44

Munck (2000, pp. 146–56). See discussion and references in Hellmuth (2004, pp. 442–4). Fitzpatrick (2004). Hellmuth (2004, p. 444).

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improve his subjects’ welfare. They, in turn, “unconditionally and irrevocably ceded sovereignty to the ruler.”45 He described the monarch as “the first servant of the state,” and it can be said with considerable justification that he both tried and succeeded to live up to this title. He was a tireless worker, dictating over 100,000 Ordres (effectively laws) during his reign.46 He was also a champion of religious tolerance: “Pagans, deists, agnostics, even Jesuits were tolerated; and Jews also were left alone.”47 Freedom of thought and speech existed in Frederick the Great’s Prussia, and many freethinkers sought refuge at his court when their writings and actions got them into trouble. Under his rule, the Prussian judicial system and laws were systematized and rationalized. Thus, for many both within and outside of Prussia, Frederick the Great was the embodiment of the Enlightenment. The question may now be put: do we live at present in an enlightened age? The answer is: No, but in an age of enlightenment. Much still prevents men from being placed in a position or even being placed into position to use their own minds securely and well in matters of religion. But we do have definite indications that this field of endeavor is being opened up for men to work freely and reduce gradually the hindrances preventing a general enlightenment and an escape from self-caused immaturity. In this sense, this age is the age of enlightenment and the age of Frederick (the Great). (Kant, [1784]1949, p. 138)

In addition to these reforms, which clearly fit the Enlightenment programme, Frederick the Great undertook many actions that any monarch might have undertaken in any age. He was, for example, an energetic state builder seizing neighboring territories, promoting industries like shipbuilding and mining, draining swamps, and building canals.48 Under Frederick the Great, Prussia emerged as one of Europe’s more powerful states. Although Frederick the Great arguably was the most successful of the enlightened despots of the eighteenth century, he was not alone in introducing parts of the Enlightenment programme. The Habsburg emperors, Joseph II and Leopold II, Catherine the Great of Russia, Gustav III of Sweden, Charles III of Spain, and several rulers of smaller states also joined the Enlightenment reform movement. One can again question the success of these rulers in implementing their reforms.49 Joseph II’s reform program, for example, was a total disaster, both because of strong opposition from 45 46 47 48 49

Hellmuth (2004, p. 445). Hellmuth (2004, pp. 445–6). Finer (1997, p. 1448). Finer (1997, p. 1449). Finer (1997, pp. 1447–55), Hellmuth (2004, pp. 448–54).

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various interests and because the Austrian bureaucracy was incapable of implementing the thousands of edicts flooding out of Vienna.50 The Enlightenment’s program was largely for reforming monarchy, not abolishing it. Apropos of this, in Louis-S´ebastien Mercier’s novel set in Paris in the year 2440, the government is not a democracy but rather an enlightened monarchy. In the six centuries following the Enlightenment, monarchs had at last been “prevailed on to listen to the voice of philosophy.”51 However, a few Enlightenment figures went beyond proffering advice to monarchs. David Hume ([1752]1987), for example, presented an outline for a constitution for a “perfect commonwealth” that placed an elected senate at the top of the executive, not a monarch and, of course, Rousseau’s Social Contract was a radical plea for democracy. However, these writings were the exceptions. Most Enlightenment thinkers either shied from advocating the revolutions needed to displace monarchy with democracy or in fact preferred enlightened monarchy to a democracy. In “Homeland,” for example, Voltaire offers what appears at first to be a defense of democracy against monarchy: Now, is it better for your homeland to be a monarchical state or a republican state? . . . If you ask the rich for a solution, they will all prefer an aristocratic system; ask the people, and they will want democracy. Our kings prefer monarchies. How is it possible, therefore, for almost the entire world to be ruled by monarchies? Ask the rats who proposed to bell the cat. (Voltaire, [1764]1999, p. 180)

A spirited defense of democracy? Not really, for the paragraph closes with the sentence, “But in truth the real reason is, as has been said before, that men are very rarely fit to rule themselves.” This skepticism about the people’s fitness to rule themselves explains why so much of the European Enlightenment programme was directed at enlightening monarchs as opposed to actually introducing democracy as in North America. This difference in attitudes toward “the people” can still be seen today with European politicians being much more elitist in their approach to politics than American politicians.

F. Economics Part of the Enlightenment’s Zeitgeist was a belief in natural laws governing all things – the movements of the planets, of physical objects on earth, and human behavior. Much of Hume’s work was devoted to discovering these laws, and the title of one of his essays (That Politics may be Reduced to a 50 51

Finer (1997, pp. 1453–4), Hellmuth (2004, p. 449). Jackson (2004, p. 191).

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Science, 1741) is symbolic in this regard. It was during the Enlightenment that the science of modern economics can reasonably be said to have been launched. Bernard Mandeville (1670–1733) once complained that “one of the greatest Reasons why so few People understand themselves, is, that most Writers are always teaching Men what they should be, and hardly ever trouble their heads with telling them what they really are.”52 Mandeville wanted to understand human behavior, and he did not shrink from describing its seamy side. In the Fable of the Bees (1714, 1723) appears one of the first arguments that greed is good, and that private vice and avarice by stimulating economic activity lead to public benefits. Mandeville stressed that the aggregation of individual actions produced an integrated economic system and that care must be taken when changing one part of the system, because the change is likely to affect other parts. From this he concluded that one should not try to eliminate poverty. The dismal science had been launched. One can discern three schools of economic thought in the eighteenth century: mercantilism, physiocracy, and Scottish political economy.53 Mercantilism had been the prevailing economic orthodoxy for the previous two centuries. The wealth of a nation was increased by promoting and protecting domestic monopolies, restricting imports, and maintaining hard currencies – gold and silver. Both the physiocrats and the Scottish political economists challenged this orthodoxy. Both favored laissez-faire domestic policies and free international trade. Both groups also linked historical progress to the evolution of economic activity. Scottish political economists identified four stages of economic evolution: hunting, pastoral, agricultural, and commercial. For French physiocrats, not surprisingly, history stopped with the agricultural stage and commerce was but an appendage to agriculture. For the physiocrats, the source of a nation’s wealth lay in its agricultural sector.54 The Scottish Enlightenment was led by Hume, Lord Kames, William Robertson, Adam Ferguson, John Millar, and Adam Smith. Smith’s An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations was published in 1776 (the year of Hume’s death and the United States’ birth) and was the most influential work of the Scottish Enlightenment. However, many of its important ideas – the role of the division of labor in economic prosperity, the invisible hand argument – can be found in earlier works by Hume, Ferguson, 52 53 54

Quotation taken from Knellwolf (2004, p. 196). See discussion and references in Sutherland (2004). The leading physiocrats were the freethinkers Franc¸ois Quesnay, Victor de Riqueti, Marquis de Mirabeau, and Anne-Robert-Jacques Turgot. See Sutherland (2004, pp. 476–8).

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and other Scottish writers. The main lessons of the Scottish Enlightenment fit well into the broader Enlightenment program. There are laws by which economies function and these can be learned. Economic progress is possible and poverty can be eliminated. In the Scottish Enlightenment, the dismal science sounded an optimistic note.

V. The French Revolution Chronologically, the American Revolution preceded the French, but we have focused so intently on the European Enlightenment that it is appropriate to consider it first. Finer (1997, p. 1517) thought that “The French Revolution is the most important single event in the entire history of government.” It brought an end to the Ancien R´egime in France, and sounded a death knell for monarchy in Europe. In little more than one century after the French Revolution, all European countries would witness either a peaceful shift of power away from the monarchs to elected parliaments or a complete end to monarchy. Our interest is not in the Revolution per se but in the ideas underlying it. Suffice it to say, therefore, that eighteenth-century France, the fountain of Enlightenment ideas, was ruled by two of Europe’s least enlightened monarchs. Both Louis XV and Louis XVI maintained that they ruled by divine right, and both ruled with indolence and incompetence. In the end, even the French aristocracy turned against the monarchy.55 The most important political legacy of the French Revolution was the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen, enacted by the National Assembly on August 26, 1789:56 The Representatives of the French People constituted in National Assembly, Considering that ignorance, forgetfulness or contempt of the rights of man are the sole cause of public misfortune and governmental depravity, Have resolved to expound in a solemn declaration the natural inalienable and sacred rights of man, So that this declaration, perpetually present to all members of the body social, shall be a constant reminder to them of their rights and duties; So that, since it will be possible at any moment to compare the acts of the legislative authority and those of the executive authority with the final end of all political institutions, those acts shall thereby be the more respected; 55 56

For a brief and readable summary of the events of the Revolution, see Finer (1997, pp. 1517–38). As contained in Finer (1997, pp. 1538–40).

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So that the claims of the citizenry, founded henceforth on simple and incontestable principles, shall always tend to the support of the constitution and to the common good. Consequently the National Assembly recognizes and declares in the presence and under the auspices of the Supreme Being the following rights of man and of the citizen: 1. In respect of their rights, men are born and remain free and equal. The only permissible basis for social distinctions is public utility. 2. The final end of every political institution is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man. These rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression. 3. The basis of all sovereignty lies essentially in the Nation. No corporation nor individual may exercise any authority that is not expressly derived therefrom. 4. Liberty is the capacity to do anything that does no harm to others. Hence the only limitations on the individual’s exercise of his natural rights are those which ensure the enjoyment of these same rights to all other individuals. These limits can be established only by legislation. 5. Legislation is entitled to forbid only those actions which are harmful to society. Nothing not forbidden by legislation may be prohibited nor may any individual be compelled to do anything that legislation has not prescribed. 6. Legislation is the expression of the general will. All citizens have a right o participate in shaping it either in person, or through their representatives. It must be the same for all, whether it punishes or protects. Since all citizens are equal in its eyes, all are equally eligible for all positions, posts and public employment in accordance with their abilities and with no other distinction than those provided by their virtues and their talents. 7. No individual may be accused, arrested, or detained except in the cases prescribed by legislation and according to the procedures it has laid down. Those who solicit, further, execute or arrange for the execution of arbitrary commands must be punished; but every citizen charged or detained by virtue of legislation must immediately obey, resistance renders him culpable. 8. The only punishments established by legislation must be ones that are strictly and obviously necessary, and no individual may be punished except by virtue of a law passed and promulgated prior to the crime and applied in due legal form. 9. Since every individual is presumed innocent until found guilty, legislation must severely repress all use of force beyond that which is necessary to secure his person in those cases where it is deemed indispensable to arrest him. 10. Nobody must be persecuted on account of his opinions including religious ones, provided the manifestation of these does not disturb the public order established by legislation. 11. The free communication of thoughts and opinions is one of the most precious rights of man; hence every citizen may speak, write and publish freely, save that he must answer for any abuse of such freedom according to the cases established by legislation. 12. [Necessity for a police force.]

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13. [Upkeep of police and administration necessitates taxation.] This must be borne by all citizens equally, according to their means. 14. [Citizens’ right to query need for taxation, freely accept it and monitor its expenditure.] 15. Society possesses the right to demand from every public servant an account of his administration. 16. A society in which rights are not secured nor the separation of powers established is a society without a constitution. 17. Since property is an inviolable and sacred right, no individual may be deprived of it unless some public necessity, legally certified as such, clearly requires it; and subject always to a just an previously determined compensation. (Finer, 1997, pp. 1538–40)

The Rights of Man is inundated with Enlightenment thinking. Man possesses “natural inalienable and sacred rights”; they include “liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression”; “men are born and remain free and equal.” Locke could easily have agreed to most of the Rights of Man. Interpreted literally it expresses the ideals of every democratic society and “with the possible exception of the doctrine of the inviolability of private property, the entire document is so obviously the blueprint of virtually all modern states.”57 The Rights of Man is clearly not a constitution, but more a preamble to a constitution combined with an American-style Bill of Rights. As such, it contains several ambiguities that would have to be cleared up before one could use it as a basis for a constitution. Article 3, for example, states that “The basis of all sovereignty lies essentially in the Nation.” What is the word essentially supposed to signify? Does it imply exceptions? What is the Nation? The drafters of the Rights of Man had obviously read their Rousseau. Article 6 states that “Legislation is the expression of the general will.” For Finer, this gives rise to “an inherent and lethal contradiction. It states that all authority flows from the general will; but it also declares that man possesses natural and imprescriptible rights, and the two are not compatible. . . . As it stands it gives license to any petty tyrant to rise to power on the basis, usually factitious, of a supposed general will to see him as its supreme embodiment.”58 I admit that this is one possible interpretation of the Rights of Man, but it is not the only one. As discussed earlier, the notion of a general will is open to more benign interpretations. The Rights of Man obviously envisages a republican form 57 58

Finer (1997, p. 1541). Finer (1997, p. 1541, emphasis in original).

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of government with an elected legislature. One way of interpreting Article 6 is that the legislature expresses “the general will” of the people. The Rights of Man leaves open how the legislature does this, but conceivably it would use a voting rule, perhaps the simple majority rule. This in turn raises the question of what happens when the general will, as expressed by the legislature, clashes with a citizen’s “natural inalienable and sacred rights”? The Rights of Man is silent on this issue. In this it is not alone, however. All majoritarian democracies must wrestle with it, and it has been a concern to many scholars.59 One solution – the American one – is that citizen rights “trump” the will of the people as expressed by the legislature. For this to happen, an independent judiciary with the authority to rule legislative acts null and void is needed. Article 16 speaks of a separation of powers, and can be interpreted as implying an independent judiciary. Indeed, one can interpret the Rights of Man as seeking to create a German Rechtsstaat or as Finer (1997, p. 1540) describes it, “law-boundedness.” The rule of law appears in nine of the seventeen articles. Given the Enlightenment’s emphasis on judicial reform, it is difficult to imagine that the drafters of the Rights of Man would emphasize citizens’ rights without a powerful and independent judiciary in mind. The judiciary’s status is only one important constitutional issue left open in the Rights of Man. How is the legislature selected? What voting rule does it use? Despite these ambiguities, I do not think that it would be difficult for some constitutional lawyers and political scientists to take the Rights of Man and draft a constitution embodying its ideals in such a way as to avoid the risk of falling prey to petty tyrants. The French Revolution did, of course, fall prey to tyrants who used the concept of a general will to justify taking both property and lives, but this probably would have happened had the Rights of Man never been drafted. Taken at face value, it captures the ideals and political aspirations of the Enlightenment, and goes beyond merely reforming monarchy to replacing it with republican government. This did not immediately happen in France, but eventually it and most of the rest of Europe did adopt forms of representative government that captured much of the spirit of the Rights of Man.

VI. The American Revolution When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among 59

E.g., Bickel (1962).

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the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Natures’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. – That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, – That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. (The Declaration of Independence, http://www.ushistory.org/)

The opening paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence, like the Rights of Man, are filled with Lockean and Enlightenment ideas from the law of nature to the pursuit of happiness. It was also common during the Enlightenment for freethinkers to replace God as the ultimate creator with nature. Jefferson does not go this far but, interestingly, does refer to nature’s God, not simply to God or to the God who created nature. The American revolutionaries had an easier time of it than the French did. Their oppressor was thousands of miles away by sea, and embroiled in conflict with France. Democratic institutions of sorts already existed in the colonies, including a separation of powers with each colony electing legislatures and the Crown appointing a governor. The colonists also were used to being governed by the rule of law. Thus, it was not necessary, as in France, to pull up all institutions of government root and branch to create a democratic republic. Disagreement exists over the U.S. Constitution. Alexis de Tocqueville thought that the Philadelphia convention “contained the finest minds and the noblest characters that had ever appeared in the New World.”60 Charles Beard ([1913]1968) thought it a cabal of slave traders and debtors out to protect their narrow interests. Most Americans today look on the Constitution with considerable reverence, but some see it as “a patchwork sewn together under pressure of both time and events.”61 As almost always, truth 60 61

Tocqueville (1835, p. 118). Quote is from John R. Roche (1968) as quoted in Finer (1997, p. 1496).

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lies somewhere in between. Certainly, everyone must agree that it contains some awful compromises. The Senate is an affront to the basic democratic principle of one-man one-vote. The Electoral College is a bizarre institution, which can and has denied the presidential candidate with the most votes victory. Nevertheless, partly by design, partly by skillful adaptation, partly perhaps by luck, it has withstood the test of time, and the American people have prospered under it. Finer (1997, pp. 1501–16) identifies six major inventions in the U.S. Constitution and constitutional process: a constitutional convention, a written constitution, a bill of rights, the separation of powers, judicial review, and federalism. All had been thought of before, however, and in some cases had even been implemented. The Levelers, for example, had proposed a written constitution for England as early as 1647.62 American colonies were often formed by compacts signed before the colonists left Europe, like the famous Mayflower Compact. The idea of a separation of powers appears in both Locke and Montesquieu, and the Iroquois Indians of northeast America were organized as a federation long before the convention met in Philadelphia. Yet, no country had ever implemented these institutions on the scale that the United States did and shown that they could work as well as they have. Henry Steele Commager (1978) claimed that Europe created the Enlightenment but did not succeed in implementing its ideas, whereas the United States did succeed. To the extent that replacing monarchy with democracy was an important part of the Enlightenment agenda, this certainly was the case. We have seen, however, that European monarchies did implement many reforms, although often in a piecemeal fashion. The U.S. Constitution with its Bill of Rights succeeded with one fell swoop to create a republican form of government with a constrained executive and the religious tolerance, free speech, and other liberties that the philosophes sought.63 In this respect, the American Revolution and U.S. Constitution did transplant and implement the programme of the Enlightenment – with one very important exception. The abolition of slavery was a central component of the Enlightenment programme as we saw in the quotation from Condorcet. The U.S. Constitution not only failed to guarantee this particular freedom, it actually guaranteed the perpetuation of this “peculiar institution.” This failure coupled with the ambiguous status of a state’s right to secede from the Union led to a bloody Civil War less than a century after the Union was formed, 62 63

Wootton (1990). Finer (1997, p. 1487).

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a fact that cannot be overlooked when assessing the success of America’s constitutional experiment.

VII. An Assessment of the Enlightenment A. The Enlightenment Zeitgeist: Reason, Optimism, and Progress After discussing the many different intellectual currents running through the Enlightenment, David Garrioch summarized its impact as follows: What the philosophes did have in common was the conviction that the basis of knowledge was observation and human reason, and that it was legitimate to apply this method not only to the natural world but also to the analysis of religion, law, politics and society. This was a direct challenge to religion in an age when most people believed that the source of truth and morality was above all revelation. It was a radical stance in other areas, too, where the antiquity of a practice was universally viewed as the source of its legitimacy. Until the middle of the eighteenth century, almost all writers evoked classical antecedents, religious authorities or custom as the basis for their arguments, even when in reality they were inventing new ones! The philosophes asserted boldly that scientific observation and reasoned argument were the sources of truth. Although they drew on principles established by seventeenthcentury scientists, the application of these ideas to society, government, religion and history represented a shift in thinking of revolutionary proportions. It led them to widely varying conclusions about human nature, history and metaphysics, although also to some shared convictions about reform. The widespread adoption of many of their ideas and their own growing reputation encouraged another of the tenets that all of the philosophes held dear: the belief that the improvement of humanity was possible, and that enlightened writers had a central role in this process by dispelling ignorance and encouraging the application of reason to every aspect of human endeavour. Theirs was an activist philosophy. (Garrioch, 2004, p. 437)

The Enlightenment thinkers’ faith in the power of reason led to their intense optimism and confidence in progress. Indeed, the word optimism is itself a neologism of the Enlightenment coined by Leibniz. It stems from the word optimum, and reflects Leibniz’s belief that our universe was “better than every other possible universe,” and that happiness consisted of “a perpetual progress to new pleasures and new perfections.”64 Although Leibniz was perhaps extreme in his optimism, he was by no means alone. Condorcet, Ferguson, Adam Smith, Kant, and many other Enlightenment figures thought similarly. Condorcet’s great optimism is revealed in his last work Esquisse d’un tableau historique des progr`es de l’esprit humain (Sketch 64

Jackson (2004, p. 185).

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for a Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Spirit, 1795), in which he sees human progress leading to “a secular benevolent state, strengthened by legal and educational reform, and prospering under a system of tolerance and economic freedom.”65 Condorcet wrote this essay while in hiding from the Jacobins. He was eventually caught and died in prison.66 We have already seen Kant’s optimism in What Is Enlightenment? Kant expressed more optimism in Eternal Peace, where he envisaged a republican constitution as a form of social contract unanimously agreed to by all citizens.67 He then argued: . . . that the republican constitution does offer the prospect of . . . eternal peace, and the reason is as follows: If, as is necessarily the case under the constitution, the consent of the citizens is required in order to decide whether there should be war or not, nothing is more natural than that those who would have to decide to undergo all deprivations of war will very much hesitate to start such an evil game. (Kant, [1795]1949, p. 438)

The belief that democracies are less prone to go to war has many adherents today. Later in the essay, Kant introduces the concept of a law of nations (V¨olkerrecht) “based upon a federalism of free states.”68 This federalism arises through a contract whose purpose is to maintain and “secure the freedom of each state by and for itself and at the same time of the other states thus allied with each other.”69 Kant then explains how eternal peace can come about: It can be demonstrated that this idea of federalization possesses objective reality, that it can be realized by a gradual extension to all states, leading to eternal peace. For if good fortune brings it to pass that a powerful and enlightened people develops a republican form of government which by nature is inclined toward peace, then such a republic will provide the central core for the federal union of other states. For they can join this republic and can thus make secure among themselves the state of peace according to the idea of a law of nations, and can gradually extend themselves by additional connections of this sort. (Kant, [1795]1949, p. 444, emphasis in original)

With the creation of the European Union, Kant’s federalization possess appears to have finally begun and will hopefully lead to eternal peace for its members.70 65 66 67 68 69 70

Munck (2000, p. 218). It is generally believed that he committed suicide, but he may instead have been murdered. Kant ([1795]1949, p. 437). Kant ([1795]1949, p. 441, emphasis in original). Kant ([1795]1949, p. 444, emphasis in original). Peter Bernholz (1985) has given a Kantian description of how the European Union could become the vehicle for world peace.

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Not all voices during the Enlightenment were so optimistic. Rousseau had little faith in social progress. The morality of the “noble savage” was far superior to that of the refined and reasoning European who had been corrupted by civilization.71 Somewhat more surprisingly, Voltaire – icon of the Enlightenment – was also less optimistic than his fellow philosophes. His optimism appears to have been shaken by the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, which killed some thirty thousand people. It led him to write a poem questioning divine providence. This poem elicited Rousseau’s wrath and led to the two becoming permanent enemies. Rousseau, for his part, saw nothing particularly troublesome about the earthquake, because he thought it was good from time to time if a number of people were killed.72 Voltaire’s strongest doubts about providence appear in Candide or Optimism ([1759]2005) in which the hapless Dr. Pangloss, a caricature of Leibniz, goes from one catastrophe to another always maintaining, nevertheless, that “this is the best of all possible worlds.” Notice, however, that it was a natural event that shook Voltaire’s optimism, and that his belief in divine providence was shaken, not in scientific progress. A stronger attack on the Enlightenment’s faith in reason, optimism, and progress was by Edmund Burke.

B. Burke’s Challenge to the Enlightenment If the Enlightenment embodied the spirit of progressivism, Edmund Burke (1729–97) was the embodiment of traditionalism. His Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790) is at once a defense of inherited monarchies, and in particular the British monarchy; a critique of the French Revolution; and an attack on the Enlightenment. Early in the Reflections, Burke rewrites the history of the Glorious Revolution of 1688. The Revolution’s main events were a flight from England by the monarch James II when both political parties and his own army began to oppose him; the Parliament’s subsequent vote that his departure constituted an abdication of the throne; and the installation of William and Mary as the new monarchs of England. For Burke, these events did not constitute the people’s removal of a monarch and replacement with a new one, but rather an orderly transmission of royal rule in accordance with the British Constitution.73 Moreover, unlike what many people – including members of the Revolution Society – thought, according to Burke the Glorious Revolution did not result in a transfer 71 72 73

Jackson (2004, p. 179). See Russell (1945, p. 689) and Jackson (2004, pp. 188–9). Ferguson (2004, pp. 615–17).

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of political power from the monarchy to the people as represented in the Parliament, nor had the British people acquired through the Revolution, the right: 1. “To choose our own governors,” 2. “To cashier them for misconduct,” 3. “To frame a government for ourselves.” This new, and hitherto unheard-of, bill of rights, though made in the name of the whole people, belongs to those gentleman and their faction only [members of the Revolution Society]. The body of the people of England have no share of it. They utterly disclaim it. They will resist the practical assertion of it with their lives and fortunes. They are bound to do so by the laws of their country, made at the time of that very Revolution which is appealed to in favour of the factitious rights claimed by the Society which abuses its name. (Burke, [1790]1960, p. 352)

Thus, under Burke’s interpretation, the people of England not only did not obtain the right to self-rule with the Glorious Revolution they signed this right away, and would not have accepted it if it had been offered to them. For Burke, social and political culture was a strong conservative force, which in the British case, served to maintain the monarchy. “In his account, governments ought to recognize that their central role is to maintain their own continuity, to make it possible for persons to feel that their circumstances are never open to their choice.”74 Needless to say, given Burke’s desire for continuity, he was appalled by the French Revolution. Once again, he takes liberties with history in ignoring the incompetence of Louis XVI, the plight of the French people under his rule, and Marie Antoinette’s indifference to their plight. His affection for Marie Antoinette is most moving: It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen of France . . . I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, – glittering like a morning star, full of life, and splendour, and joy. Oh! what a revolution! . . . I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators, has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall we behold the generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. (Burke, [1790]1960, pp. 386–7)

Later he expresses the belief that the disappearance of “the old feudal and chivalrous spirit of fealty” will lead to tyranny.75 74 75

Ferguson (2004, p. 617). Burke ([1790]1960, p. 389).

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Burke’s fear of political change and democracy stemmed from a view of human nature that was quite at odds with Enlightenment thinking. Men were not rational actors capable of making choices in the market or in politics, but creatures filled with prejudices: . . . in this enlightened age I am bold enough to confess, that we are generally men of untaught feeling; that instead of casting away all our old prejudices, we cherish them to a very considerable degree, and, to take more shame to ourselves, we cherish them because they are prejudices; and the longer they have lasted, and the more generally they have prevailed, the more we cherish them. We are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own private stock of reason; because we expect that this stock in each man is small, and that the individuals would do better to avail themselves of the general bank and capital of nations and of ages. (Burke, [1790]1960, p. 397)

Given this skepticism about man’s powers of reasoning, it is not surprising that reason was not the basis for society; for Burke, religion was.76 I have quoted Burke at length, because many believe he was correct in his assessment of the French Revolution and of its causes. It is possible to agree with Burke on the importance of history and culture in determining a nation’s political and economic institutions and how well they function without sharing his view that history and culture preclude change – even perhaps radical changes – in political and economic institutions. Indeed, Burke’s own logic implies that the success of Britain’s political and economic institutions cannot be used against the reforms proposed by French revolutionaries, because France had a different history and culture from Britain’s. Nor can the French Revolution’s degeneration condemn all revolutions or be used as a defense of French despotism or any other form of despotism. If, as Burke believed, the central role of governments ought to be to maintain their own continuity and to make it possible for persons to feel that their circumstances are never open to their choice, then the communist regimes of the twentieth century would have constituted ideal forms of government, and the citizens who sought change in 1989 would have been just as wrong as French citizens were in 1789.

C. The Legacy of the Enlightenment Some see the emphasis on reason by Enlightenment thinkers as the first step toward national planning. Enlightenment thinkers thought that they could redesign Europe’s political and social institutions to improve the welfare of its citizens, and then move on to bring reason and civilization to the rest of 76

Burke ([1790]1960, p. 397).

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the world.77 For these, the French Revolution is a colossal example of the folly of trying to design social and political institutions. Social progress is a slow, evolutionary process of unplanned incremental changes.78 Although a few Enlightenment thinkers, like the Comte de Buffon, may have been closet social planners, certainly all were not.79 Adam Smith, Hume, and other members of the Scottish Enlightenment were certainly also part of the European Enlightenment, and they believed firmly in the power of “invisible hands” guiding social interaction, not state planning. James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, and the other Founding Fathers were also prototypes of Enlightenment thinking. The U.S. Constitution is far closer to a design of political institutions than the Rights of Man, and might be regarded as evidence that rational individuals are capable of learning from the past and using their powers of reason to shape a better future. One cannot blame the French Revolution on Enlightenment thinking without acknowledging that the American Revolution and the constitutional republic that grew out of it were just as much products of Enlightenment thinking. Moreover, while some, like Finer (1997, pp. 1434–8), write about “The Enlightenment ‘Programme,’” others, like Garrioch (2004, p. 439), assert that “the philosophes had no programme.” Both agree, however, that numerous common themes ran through the Enlightenment, even though the philosophes disagreed about the importance or even validity of certain Enlightenment ideas. Thus, it is best to think of the Enlightenment as casting up a host of proposals for social and political reform, each of which might be thought of as an incremental change rather than a specific, integrated design for a form of utopia. In the next chapter, we conclude our historical account and examine the extent to which the Enlightenment reforms have been adopted during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and why they have often failed to be adopted. 77 78 79

See, for example, Easterly (2006, p. 23). Hayek (1973–9) is the obvious reference here, but this could also be interpreted as Burke’s ([1790]1960) position. See also, Easterly (2006, ch. 1). Easterly (2006, p. 23) cites de Buffon when criticizing Enlightenment thinking.

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Religion and Democracy After the French Revolution

Our religion is Christ, our politics Fatherland! (Hans Schemm, Head of National Socialist Teachers’ League)1

Anyone gazing forward circa 1791 might well have been quite optimistic about the future course of human history. During the previous century, reason had triumphed over ignorance and superstition among the intelligentsia on both sides of the Atlantic. Its further dissemination was merely a matter of educating entire populations rather than tiny elites. Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, published in 1776, had demonstrated the benefits of liberalizing domestic markets and international trade. The American Revolution, launched in the same year, created a truly democratic republic. The newly underway French Revolution promised a similar development in Europe. The stage seemed set for the spread of liberal democratic and economic institutions, underpinned by intelligent and rational actors. Of course, history did not follow this course.

I. The Resurgence of Religion in Early-Nineteenth-Century Europe As the ever astute Alexis de Tocqueville observed, the French Revolution became a kind of political religion itself, equally single-minded in its pursuits, equally intolerant of conflicting ideas, equally violent in its repression of heretics. Because the Revolution seemed to be striving for the regeneration of the human race even more than for the reform of France, it lit a passion which the most violent political revolutions had never before been able to produce. It inspired conversions and generated propaganda. Thus, in the end, it took on the appearance of a religious 1

As quoted in Steigmann-Gall (2003, p. 24).

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revolution which so astonished contemporaries. Or rather, it itself became a new kind of religion, an incomplete religion, it is true, without God, without ritual, and without life after death, but one which nevertheless, like Islam, flooded the earth with its soldiers, apostles, and martyrs. (Alexis de Tocqueville)2

Like all religions, the Revolution had its own morality and sought to remake man according to its own Puritanical code. It was zealous in attacking established religion. Anticipating the Russian Revolution, it converted churches into “Houses of Reason,” monasteries and convents not engaged in useful work were closed, and monks and nuns were forced to renounce their vows.3 The anarchy and increasing violence of the Revolution eventually gave rise to Napoleon. With the Concordat of 1801, Napoleon made peace with the Catholic Church and sought thereby to elicit its support for his cause. This strategy met with considerable success within France, much to the chagrin of Tocqueville who remarked, “I am saddened and concerned more than I ever have been before when I see in so many Catholics this aspiration toward tyranny, this attraction to servitude, this love of force, of the police, of the censor, the gallows.”4 In the rest of Europe, however, France was still associated with the Revolution’s hostility to the Church, and Napoleon himself was regarded as the Corsican Anti-Christ. Thus, when they faced Napoleon’s armies the rest of Europe believed it was defending not only its own territories from a tyrant but Christianity from atheism. The Revolution’s attack on religion combined with Napoleon’s attacks on Europe thus fostered a religious revival in the early nineteenth century. As the century progressed, however, church attendance waned, secularism increased in strength, and demands for the separation of church and state were again heard.5

II. The Church, Modernism, and Democracy Throughout much of the second millennium, Church and State worked together. Kings derived their divine rights from the Church and in return the State protected the Church’s property and revenue sources. This partnership became strained during the eighteenth century when Enlightenment ideals led to attacks on both the Protestant and Catholic branches of Christianity. The discrediting of Enlightenment thinking during the nineteenth century 2 3 4 5

As quoted in Burleigh (2005, p. 3). Burleigh (2005, ch. 2). Burleigh (2005, p. 210). See discussion in Blackbourn (1998, pp. 283–302) and Burleigh (2005).

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brought with it a revival of the Church and State partnership. The State once again became the protectorate of the Church, and the Church reciprocated by leading the chorus of “God Save the King.” Thus, during the early nineteenth century, “the Roman Church everywhere appeared as a pillar of reaction, rivaled in its stalwart conservatism only by the Protestant state churches.”6 In 1831, for example, Pope Gregory XVI posed the question, “Does the Holy Law of God permit rebellion against the legitimate temporal sovereign?” His answer: “No, never, because the temporal power comes from God.”7 Thus, as late as 1831 the Church was still defending the divine rights of kings. As the revolutionary currents of the nineteenth century rose, fear of anarchy increased and the clergy perceived a danger that anarchy would breed immorality. Opposition to the State was equated with treason. Here again is Pope Gregory XVI in his encyclical Mirari of 1832: We have learned that certain teachings are being spread among the common people in writings which attack the trust and submission due to princes; the torches of treason are being lit everywhere . . . both divine and human laws cry out against those who strive by treason and sedition to drive people from confidence in their princes and from their government.8

While some revolutionists, like Marx and Engels, were preoccupied with supplanting capitalism with Socialism, still others wished to see democracy replace the monarchies. Christianity’s conservative defense of the political status quo during the nineteenth century thus pitted it against reformers who wished to establish democratic institutions. As late as the beginning of the twentieth century, Pope Pius X, now Saint Pius X, still railed against “modernists” who espoused such “insanities of the modern world” as science and democracy.9 The Catholic Church’s first Index Librorum Prohibitorum (Index of Forbidden Books) appeared in the sixteenth century, and was updated periodically until 1948 when the thirty-second edition appeared. This final list ran to some 211 pages with over four thousand entries. Table 9.1 lists some of the better-known authors who still graced the Index as late as 1948 and the dates when they entered the list. Some works had remained on the Index for more than three centuries. 6 7 8 9

McNeill (1963, p. 748). As quoted in Burleigh (2005, p. 116). As quoted in Burleigh (2005, p. 116). Burleigh (2005, p. 432).

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Table 9.1. Selected entries from Index Librorum Prohibitorum (Index of Forbidden Books, 1948) Author Acton, Lord Bacon, Francis Balzac, Honor´e de Beccaria, Cesare Bentham, Jeremy Bergson, Henri Berkeley, George Browne, Thomas Bruno, Giordano Calvin, John Comte, Auguste Condorcet, Marie-JeanAntoine-Nicolas de D’Alembert, Jean le Rond Darwin, Erasmus Defoe, Daniel Descartes, Ren´e Diderot, Denis Dumas, Alexandre Flaubert, Gustave France, Anatole Frederick II of Prussia Gibbon, Edward

Works

2 1 complete works 1 4 3 1 1 1 1 1 Sketch for a Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Mind 2 1 History (Political) of the Devil 7 2 including Encyclopedia 3 2 including Madame Bovary complete works 1 History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Gioberti, Vincenzi complete works Grotius, Hugo 9 Heine, Heinrich 4 Hobbes, Thomas complete works Hugo, Victor Notre-Dame de Paris, Les Mis´erables Hume, David complete works Kant, Immanuel Critique of Pure Reason Kollar, Adam F. 1 Lamennais, Hughes-Felicit´e- 7 Robert de Larousse, Pierre Grand Dictionnaire Universel du XIXe Si`ecle Leti, Gregorio 22 Locke, John 3 including An Essay Concerning Human Understanding Maeterlinck, Maurice complete works Maimonides, Moses 1

Year added to Index 1871 1668 1841 1766 1819–35 1914 1742 1645 1600 1659 1864 1827 1767 1817 1743 1663–1720 1804 1863–80 1864 1922 1760 1783 1849 1626–1757 1836–45 1649 1834–64 1761 1827 1764 1834–46 1873 1656–82 1734–7 1914 1717

II. The Church, Modernism, and Democracy

Author Malebranche, Nicolas Manderville, Bernard de Michelet, Jules Mill, John Stuart Milton, John Montesquieu, Charles de Secondat, Baron de Pascal, Blaise Proudhon, Pierre-Joseph Pufendorf, Samuel von Renan, Ernest Richardson, Samuel Rousseau, Jean-Jacques Spinoza, Baruch de Stendahl, Henri Beyle de Sterne, Laurence Swedenborg, Emanuel Van de Velde, Theodoor Hendrik Voltaire ´ Zola, Emile

Works 7 Thoughts (Free) on Religion The Fable of the Bees 6 Principles of Political Economy 1 2 including Spirit of the Laws 2 including Pens´ees complete works 5 19 Pamela 6 including Emile and The Social Contract 3 including The Theological-Political Treatise 1 A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy 1 complete works 39 complete works

201

Year added to Index 1689–1712 1732–1744 1815–96 1856 1694 1751–62 1657–1789 1852 1692–1753 1859–92 1744 1762–1806 1679–90 1828 1819 1738 1931 1752–1804 1894

Source: http://www.cvm.qc.ca/gconti/905/BABEL/Index%20Librorum%20Prohibitorum-1948.htm.

Presumably, a good Catholic would not read any of the forbidden works. If that were so, then up until the middle of the twentieth century good Catholics remained ignorant of Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Victor Hugo’s Les Mis´erables, John Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws, all of the works of Hobbes and Hume, and the many other entries in the Index. Other well-known names that made it onto earlier lists of books banned by the Church include Erasmus, Galileo Galilei, Andr´e Gide, Martin Luther, Machiavelli, Rabelais, George Sand, Jean-Paul Sartre, Jonathan Swift, and Zwingli. One shudders to think what the development of Western thought would have been like had the Catholic Church succeeded in preventing the publication of all works that it banned. The Index of Forbidden Books illustrates better than any other single document the Catholic Church’s long-standing resistance to progress and the advance of knowledge.

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III. Religion and Liberalism The nineteenth-century religious revival also revived religious conflict. The Catholic Church reinstated the Inquisition with so-called subversives receiving the death penalty. Discrimination took place against Catholics in Protestant Germany and against Jews almost everywhere.10 The rise of Romanticism in the nineteenth century came at the expense of Enlightenment ideas. The Church strongly resisted the liberal notion that the individual could judge right and wrong. Pope Pius IX attacked modernist thinking in much the same vein as Pius X would some forty years later: For you well know, venerable brethren, that at this time men are found not a few who, applying to civil society the impious and absurd principle of “naturalism,” as they call it, dare to teach that “the best constitution of public society and (also) civil progress altogether require that human society be conducted and governed without regard being had to religion any more than if it did not exist; or, at least, without any distinction being made between the true religion and false ones.” And, against the doctrine of Scripture, of the Church, and of the Holy Fathers, they do not hesitate to assert that “that is the best condition of civil society, in which no duty is recognized, as attached to the civil power, of restraining by enacted penalties, offenders against the Catholic religion, except so far as public peace may require.” From which totally false idea of social government they do not fear to foster that erroneous opinion, most fatal in its effects on the Catholic Church and the salvation of souls, called by Our Predecessor, Gregory XVI, an “insanity,” viz., that “liberty of conscience and worship is each man’s personal right, which ought to be legally proclaimed and asserted in every rightly constituted society; and that a right resides in the citizens to an absolute liberty, which should be restrained by no authority whether ecclesiastical or civil, whereby they may be able openly and publicly to manifest and declare any of their ideas whatever, either by word of mouth, by the press, or in any other way.” But, while they rashly affirm this, they do not think and consider that they are preaching “liberty of perdition;” and that “if human arguments are always allowed free room for discussion, there will never be wanting men who will dare to resist truth, and to trust in the flowing speech of human wisdom; whereas we know, from the very teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ, how carefully Christian faith and wisdom should avoid this most injurious babbling.”11 (St. Leo, epistle 14 (133), sect. 2, edit. Ball., as in Pope Pius IX, 1864)

Attached to the Quanta Cura was a Syllabus listing eighty errors of modernists and other social reformers according to the pope. Article 18 stated the error that “Protestantism is nothing more than another form of the same true Christian religion, in which form it is given to please God equally 10 11

Fulbrook (1992, ch. 5) and Blackbourn (1998, pp. 307–8, 436–40). http://www.papalencyclicals.net/Pius09/p9quanta.htm.

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as in the Catholic Church.” Thus, as seen by the pope, the struggle between Catholicism and Protestantism was still alive and well in 1864. More generally, Article 15 of the Syllabus denied individuals the capacity and freedom to choose their religion. It was an error to believe that “every man is free to embrace and profess that religion which, guided by the light of reason, he shall consider true.” Article 15 nicely captures the Quanta Cura’s flavor, but it is the last article, 80, that expresses the Syllabus’s spirit the best. Pius IX thought that it was an error to think that “the Roman Pontiff can, and ought to, reconcile himself, and come to terms with progress, liberalism, and modern civilization.” While Pius IX was highly skeptical about ordinary humans’ capacity to reason, he expressed no reservations about his own capability. The First Vatican Council of 1870 (in)famously proclaimed the pope’s judgment of the meaning and interpretation of Christian scriptures and doctrines to be infallible. A mere mortal whose judgment on moral matters could not be trusted prior to his election as pope became infallible once chosen by – presumably – a college of fallible cardinals. The Catholic Church’s suspicion of democracy lingered into the twentieth century, and was officially repudiated only in 1962–5 by the Second Vatican Council. Nevertheless, as late as 1993, we find Pope John Paul II in his encyclical Veritatis Splendor expressing concern over “the risk of an alliance between democracy and ethical relativism.”12

IV. The Rise of Liberal Democracy in the Nineteenth Century The French Revolution destroyed the link between God and the state and proved that men could both destroy and create a state. The old order was over and during the nineteenth century, the belief grew that the state should serve the interests of citizens. Democratic thinking spread across Europe throughout the nineteenth century, sometimes weakening the state’s power as in Austria-Hungary, sometimes being successfully exploited to buttress the state as in Prussia.13 At the nineteenth century’s beginning, no European country was a liberal democracy. Despite the Church’s opposition to both democracy and liberalism, by 1920 almost all European countries could be said to be democracies of one form or another with, of course, the important exception of Russia. Liberal democracy’s triumph proceeded at different 12 13

http://www.vatican.va/holy father/john paul ii/encyclicals/documents/hf jpii enc 06081993 veritatissplendor en.html. Emphasis in the original. See McNeill (1963, p. 749–50).

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speeds and in different sequences. The main elements of the transformation were roughly the same all over Europe, however: (1) Political power shifted from the monarchies to parliaments sometimes gradually as in Great Britain, sometimes suddenly as following the revolutions of 1848. In Germany, Austria/Hungary, and Turkey, it required the jolt of defeat in World War I to completely destroy the monarchies. (2) Suffrage was extended from a small fraction of the male population to universal suffrage for both men and women. (3) As a result of the expansion of suffrage and other reforms, for example, the reduction in the power of the House of Lords in Great Britain, parliaments became more representative of the entire populations and not just upper-class elites. (4) The separation between church and state became more firmly established. (5) State schools supplanted religious schools. (6) Compulsory, universal education was introduced. In contrast to Europe, the United States could be called a democracy at the beginning of the nineteenth century – if one does not place heavy emphasis on the criterion of universal suffrage. Today, the U.S. Constitution is thought by many to be a model for liberal democracy. It is sobering, therefore, to consider that for many of the Founding Fathers the motivation for writing the Constitution and abandoning the Articles of Confederation was to weaken the control of the populace over the government and eliminate or at least reduce the evils of, in Alexander Hamilton’s words, “an excess of democracy.”14 Edmund Randolph, a participant in the Constitutional Convention, complained that “the evils under which the U.S. laboured” after the Revolution were due to “the turbulence and follies of democracy.” For George Mason, another participant in the convention, the problem was that state legislatures were “too democratic.”15 The chief complaint against state legislatures was that many had relieved debtors from the obligation of repaying their debts. Seven of the thirteen colonies printed money, which led to inflation and reduced the value of debtors’ and taxpayers’ obligations. These measures were undertaken in response to demands from debtors and taxpayers who could not meet their obligations. Following the Revolution, the U.S. economy went into recession. Gold and silver were in short supply and a serious deflation ensued. As with all deflations, bondholders gained at the expense of debtors. Most of the original bondholders were veterans of the Revolution, who had been paid with bonds instead of hard currency, or others who had supplied credit to the 14 15

The quote is from Holton (2007, p. 5). The classic source on the events leading up to the writing of the constitution is Wood (1969). Holton (2007, p. 14).

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government during the Revolution. Many had sold their bonds to buy food and clothing for their families. The value of state bonds had declined dramatically because state legislatures had been slow to pay interest. Most bonds thus wound up in the hands of speculators. If the states paid the interest on the bonds, they would have to do so out of revenue raised mostly from property and head taxes. This often forced poor farmers and artisans to sell their furniture, livestock, and even their farms to pay their taxes. Hence, this led to the pressure to forgive debt or inflate prices. Uncertainty surrounding the value of debt made it almost impossible for individuals and businessmen to raise funds for investment, further contributing to the economy’s weakness. A major goal for many at the Convention, including James Madison, was to restore the creditworthiness of the American economy. Part of the justice that the preamble to the Constitution promised was justice for creditors. Section 10 of Article I explicitly forbade states from coining money, allowing paper money to be used in payment of debts, and from passing any “law impairing the obligation of contracts,” which, of course, included debt contracts. Thus, an important goal for the new Constitution was to remove some legislative authority from the states, where it was perceived to have been abused because of the states’ excessive deference to popular pressure. A second was to isolate the national government from “the turbulence and follies of democracy.” Several features of the Constitution were designed to achieve this second goal. 1. The indirect election of the president by means of the Electoral College. Members of the Electoral College were to be chosen by state legislatures and were expected to serve as a safeguard against the citizens’ choosing a demagogue. If the popular vote produced such an outcome, the responsible persons chosen to the Electoral College were supposed to ignore the popular vote and select someone else. 2. An indirectly elected Senate. Election by state legislatures was expected to isolate senators from popular pressures. James Madison hoped that the Senate would, like the British House of Lords, represent America’s version of an aristocracy – wealthy landowners. George Mason wanted property requirements for election to the Senate. Others would accomplish the same end by having senators be unpaid. Benjamin Franklin wanted all representatives to work without pay.16 16

Holton (2007, pp. 193–4).

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3. Six-year staggered terms in the Senate to protect senators from populist pressures. Madison originally proposed nine years: Hamilton wanted lifetime appointments.17 4. Two-year terms in the House. Most states at the time had one-year terms for lower-house representatives. Madison wanted four-year terms. 5. The presidential veto, which could only be overridden by two-thirds’ majorities in both houses, as a protection against a populist wave swamping both Houses of Congress. James Wilson, another delegate to the Convention, favored a no-override provision. Hamilton again wanted a lifetime appointment for the president.18 6. Many delegates wanted to restrict the voting franchise to adult, male property holders, but because some states already had universal male suffrage, this would have taken the vote away from some citizens, aroused their anger, and thereby risked the Constitution’s failure at the ratification stage. To avoid this, qualifications for voting were left to the states. John Adams, the second president, expressed the logic behind this strategy as early as 1776 in a letter to James Sullivan. Depend upon it, Sir, it is dangerous to open so fruitful a source of controversy and altercation as would be opened by attempting to alter the qualifications of voters; there will be no end of it. New claims will arise; women will demand the vote; lads from twelve to twenty-one will think their rights not enough attended to; and every man who has not a farthing, will demand an equal voice with any other, in all acts of state. It tends to confound and destroy all distinctions and prostrate all ranks to one common level.19

At the founding, the qualifications for voting varied considerably across states. In the six New England states, blacks were allowed to vote; in some states they were explicitly prohibited from voting. In some states one could not vote if one denied the existence of God; in some, Jews could not vote.20 Thus, there was considerable distrust at the founding about the average citizen’s capacity as a voter. Europeans were also cautious about handing out voting rights at the beginning of the nineteenth century. It seemed obvious to advocates of democracy that suffrage should be limited to persons possessing sufficient education and a strong enough interest in the activities of the state to acquit their duties as citizens responsibly. Property requirements for suffrage were 17 18 19 20

Holton (2007, p. 194). Holton (2007, p. 192). Quoted in Levin (1992, p. 86). Levin (1992, pp. 3–9).

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common. If a man possessed property, it implied that he had a financial stake in the success of the polity and implicitly a degree of intelligence or education that allowed him to accumulate or at least retain some property. Thus, property was thought to lead to responsible citizenship. John Stuart Mill expressed the logic for such requirements in 1865. [It is] important that the assembly which votes the taxes, either general or local, should be elected exclusively by those who pay something toward the taxes imposed. Those who pay no taxes, disposing by their votes of other people’s money, have every motive to be lavish and none to economize. As far as money matters are concerned, any power of voting possessed by them is a violation of the fundamental principle of free government – a severance of the power of control from the interest in its beneficial exercise. It amounts to allowing them to put their hands into other people’s pockets for any purpose which they think fit to call a public one . . . (John Stuart Mill, [1861]1958, p. 133)

It is perhaps worth noting that Mill, in addition to being one of the great intellects of the nineteenth century, was somewhat of a left-wing radical for his day. He was an early advocate of women’s suffrage and favored proportional representation because he believed that minorities deserved fair representation. Yet he felt that successful democracy required a responsible citizenry, one with a financial stake in the polity. At the nineteenth century’s start, only a small fraction of the British male population could vote. Throughout the century, property and taxpayment qualifications were relaxed and the electorate grew. The first major attempt at reforms was defeated in the House of Lords in 1831 due to widespread opposition from the Tories and nearly unanimous opposition from the twenty-three bishops who held seats in the House because of their rank in the Church of England. Rioting ensued and somewhat modified reforms subsequently went through in 1832. Although these reforms doubled the percentage of adult males who could vote in Britain, this figure still amounted to no more than 7 percent of the adult male population. Additional major reforms took place in 1867, 1884, and 1918. Only with the 1918 reforms was full universal male suffrage achieved.21 John Stuart Mill, as a member of Parliament, first introduced a bill to extend suffrage to women in 1867, but only in 1918 did women obtain the right to vote in Britain because of their efforts during World War I. Even then, this right was restricted to women over age thirty. Equal suffrage with men was another ten years off. The secret ballot was also introduced with the 1918 reforms. Other important milestones in Britain’s march to 21

Levin (1992, pp. 25–33).

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democracy include the introduction of compulsory schooling in 1870–2 and curtailment of the House of Lords’ veto powers in 1911. The liberal reform movement in the early 1830s helped form the Liberal Party, which remained a major force in British politics until the end of World War I. The Liberal Party’s dominance of British politics coincided, unsurprisingly, with the dominance of liberal ideas in Britain. Mainstream Liberalism . . . aspired to see central and local affairs administered by a propertied but socially diverse, rational and civilized elite, assiduous in promoting economy and developing Christian and industrious qualities in the population at large. It sought a constitutional system which would perpetuate the dominance of those groups and values while imposing checks on arbitrary rule and winning the confidence of the politicized nation. Meanwhile it attempted to secure open trade and respect for British influence in important regions overseas, which would benefit the country’s economic interests, project an inspiring image of national purpose and rally a wide range of domestic opinion to government.22

An informed and conscientious citizenry is needed if democracy is to produce desirable outcomes. Restricting suffrage to property owners and taxpayers ensured that most British voters were educated and had an important economic interest in the policies of the state. The 1870s’ education reforms eventually allowed an extension of suffrage without severely endangering the quality of political outcomes. Nevertheless, the liberal reforms that figured so importantly in the Liberal Party’s political agenda over the nineteenth century eventually led to its eclipse, as a preponderance of those added to the voting lists came to favor the Labour Party. The Venetian and Dutch Republics illustrate that good government is possible with a small, well-educated electorate committed to the welfare of the community. Great Britain of the nineteenth century might be offered as another example. After remarking that “Britain in 1867 was not a democracy” because of the restricted voting franchise, Pearce and Stewart (2002, p. 16) go on to comment, “While this limited franchise fell short of true democracy, it can be argued that the British system was successful in providing certain elements of a modern political system: stability without stasis, dynamism without destruction. There was security for property-owners yet hope of betterment for the poor, and pride for all in belonging to what was acknowledged to be the world’s most successful community.” Although liberal nineteenth-century Britain fell short of the modern definition of a democracy, it scored well along most other dimensions.23 22 23

Parry (1993, p. 304). For further discussion of nineteenth-century Britain, see Levin (1992, pp. 25–33), Parry (1993), Machin (2001), Pearce and Stewart (2002), and Congleton (forthcoming, chs. 12 and 13).

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Over the nineteenth century, France experimented with being a republic, an inherited monarchy, and an elected monarchy. Defeat by the Prussians in 1870 brought an end to the second Napoleonic Empire, and led to the Third Republic and a new constitution in 1875. The Third Republic survived until France fell to the Nazis. Suffrage requirements ebbed and flowed as France bounced back and forth between republic and monarchy. The first constitution of revolutionary France in 1791 restricted suffrage to males over age twenty-five who paid taxes of at least three days’ wages. These suffrage requirements were quickly relaxed so that by 1793, France had effectively introduced universal male suffrage, although this reform was never implemented. Tax-payment requirements for voting characterized the period following the collapse of Napoleon’s Empire until universal male suffrage was once again introduced and this time implemented for good at the beginning of the Third Republic. French women would have to wait until 1944, however, before they were allowed to vote.24 The turbulence in France between the Revolution and the Third Republic was anything but a strong endorsement for the superiority of democratic institutions and the wisdom of the common man. France’s example undoubtedly slowed the implementation of liberal forms elsewhere at least until the revolutions of 1848, because it seemed to confirm the nobility’s fear of the dangers of unconstrained democracy. Indeed, when French citizens were allowed to express their preferences directly, they invariably opted for dictatorship. Napoleon’s seizure of power in 1799 was ratified in a plebiscite by a vote of more than 3,000,000 to 1,500. A second plebiscite in 1802 made him First Consul (de facto dictator) for life. Following the Revolution of 1848, Napoleon’s nephew Louis was elected president with more than 70 percent of the nearly 5.5 million votes cast. Although his term of office was to be for four years, Louis Napoleon circumvented this difficulty by dissolving the National Assembly and engaging in mass arrests of his opponents of which several hundred were killed. Napoleon reintroduced universal male suffrage so that his seizure of power could be ratified, which it was, overwhelmingly, in two separate plebiscites.25 Having been a republic for nearly two centuries, the Netherlands entered the nineteenth century as a monarchy with Napoleon’s brother Louis as its king. Following Napoleon’s defeat, the Netherlands chose to remain a monarchy but with a Dutch king. This choice must seem puzzling to all advocates of democracy. Having been one of Europe’s earliest and longest-lived republics, the Netherlands chose to return to monarchy at the beginning of 24 25

Levin (1992, pp. 9–17). Ibid.

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the century in which most European countries chose to abandon monarchy or significantly constrain it. The Dutch Constitution of 1815 created a bicameral parliament modeled to some extent after Great Britain. The upper house was appointed by the king from the nobility and held office for life. The lower house was elected in much the same way as the U.S. Senate originally was – by the provincial governments. The North and South parts of the Netherlands each had fiftyfive seats in the lower house, although the North contained only about 40 percent of the population. Napoleon’s defeat caused a Protestant reawakening in the Netherlands as in much of Europe. Opposition to Enlightenment ideas was popular, and the Protestant king, William I, sought to suppress a Catholic revival. Dutch was proclaimed the official language, which alienated the Frenchspeaking part of the country. An economic downturn in 1830 led to further dissatisfaction in the Catholic South with the government and its secession from the kingdom. France and Britain were quick to recognize the new Belgium state in 1831. Under the first Belgian constitution, the voting franchise was restricted according to one’s tax payments, so that only 2 percent of the adult population could vote. Belgium’s Liberal Party was founded in 1847, and during the second half of the nineteenth century, liberalism flourished in Belgium. Subsidies to church schools were stopped and public education was introduced. As the century drew to a close, socialist movements increased in strength and liberalism faded. Universal male suffrage appeared in Belgium in 1893, but female suffrage had to wait until 1948. The 1848 revolutions in France, Germany, the Czech lands, and Hungary led William II to propose a new, liberal constitution for the Netherlands. The upper house, where the nobility was represented, was abolished and the previous lower house effectively became the upper house. A new popularly elected lower house was created. Suffrage was still based on tax payments, however, so that at most 10 percent of the voting-age male population could vote. Universal male suffrage did not come until 1917; female suffrage followed a year later. Liberalism also triumphed in the Netherlands during the latter half of the nineteenth century with the Liberal Party being founded in 1870.26 The Liberal Party championed the expansion of suffrage throughout the nineteenth century, as was the case in Great Britain. The newly enfranchised voters opted for other parties, however, and the Dutch 26

For further discussion of nineteenth-century Belgium and Holland, see Kossmann (1978), Arblaster (2006), and Congleton (forthcoming, ch. 15).

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Liberal Party ceased to be an important political force in the twentieth century. The last millennium saw a gradual shift in political power from the royalty to the aristocracy, and then on to the commoners. To protect itself during this transition, the aristocracy often sought to hold onto political power by retaining a disproportionate share of voting power in representative assemblies. Often, as in Britain and the Netherlands, this was accomplished through a bicameral parliament with the nobility exclusively represented in a second chamber. Sweden carried this idea to the extreme with a fourchamber parliament with the nobility, clergy, guilds (burghers), and farmers each being represented in separate chambers. This arrangement, which dated back to the Middle Ages, was embedded in the 1810 constitution. As the nineteenth century progressed, membership in the various chambers expanded, but the structure remained intact until a new constitution was written in 1866. It contained two chambers. Wealth replaced birth as the qualification for both sitting in and voting for the upper chamber. To vote for the lower chamber, one needed to be a male Lutheran taxpayer. Universal suffrage for both men and women did not arrive in Sweden until the postwar reforms of 1918–20.27 The revolutions of 1848 also led to reforms in Prussia. Its 1850 constitution provided for two houses of parliament with the nobility represented in the upper house as in Great Britain. It introduced universal male suffrage for lower house elections, which made Prussia the first European country with universal male suffrage. However, universal suffrage came with an ingenious twist. Parliament was divided into three equal parts. The wealthiest Prussians, who accounted for only 4 percent of the adult male population but one-third of direct tax payments, elected one-third of the parliament; those paying the next third of direct taxes (14 percent of the adult male population) also elected one-third of the parliament, and the remaining 82 percent of the adult male population elected representatives to fill the last third of the seats. In this way, the 1850 constitution limited the poorest citizens’ ability “to put their hands in the pockets” of the rich. Liberal reforms, particularly of an economic sort, appeared in the individual German states in the early nineteenth century and in the unified state at the end of the century. Its liberal party – the National Liberal Party – was founded in 1867. Both Wilhelm I and Wilhelm II ceded power to the parliament slowly, however, so that Germany did not become a full-fledged 27

For further discussion of nineteenth-century Sweden, see Verney (1957) and Congleton (forthcoming, ch. 13).

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parliamentary democracy until the collapse of the monarchy following Germany’s defeat in World War I.28 The 1848 revolution in Vienna, led by university students, came close to toppling the regime and produced more substantial reforms in Austria than in Prussia. Liberals came to power in 1860 and for almost forty years Austria functioned as a modern, liberal constitutional republic. Enlightenment ideas, with their heavy emphasis on rational thought, were put into effect. Vienna was rebuilt and became home to a thriving intellectual and artistic community. In the sciences (including economics), psychiatry, art, architecture, literature, philosophy, and music, Vienna was on the forefront of Western culture. The Liberal Party in Austria, like its brethren elsewhere in Europe, dominated Austrian politics thanks to a voting franchise that limited voting to the upper middle class. As the nineteenth century drew to a close, however, the voting franchise was broadened and new political parties appeared – Social Democrats, Christian Democrats, German Nationalists. Liberalism came to be equated with capitalism, and capitalism with Jews. Liberalism then gave way to Marxism, Catholicism, nationalism, and eventually anti-Semitism. Two of the leaders of the new political movements, Georg Ritter von Sch¨onerer and Karl Lueger, were former liberals who embraced anti-Semitism to gain political power. Both became political role models for Adolph Hitler.29 Indeed, the rise of Nazism in Germany in the twentieth century may also have been because of the rapid expansion of the voting franchise. Although universal male suffrage existed throughout the last quarter of the nineteenth century in Germany, voter turnouts remained low into the twentieth century at about 10 percent, rising to some 15 percent in 1907 and 19 percent in 1912. After World War I, turnouts rose to 50 and 60 percent.30 This great expansion of voter turnout reduced the education level of the average voter. Although the Nazi Party can be categorized as a middle-class party, it drew its support from “the least educated and intelligent groups of the middle class.” Many who voted for it in the last, crucial elections before Hitler took over had never voted before.31 Thus, as the voting franchise expanded in Austria, Germany, France (where anti-Semitism also was popular at the end of the nineteenth century), and elsewhere in Continental Europe, countries became more democratic 28 29 30 31

For further discussion of nineteenth-century Germany, see Fulbrook (1992), Blackbourn (1998), Congleton (forthcoming, ch. 16), and the readings in Fulbrook (1997). Schorske (1981). Dahrendorf (1969, pp. 68–9). Dahrendorf (1969, pp. 373–4).

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but also less liberal. Liberalism’s triumph in nineteenth-century Europe took place during a brief window of opportunity between the eighteenth-century Enlightenment and the rise of Socialism, Fascism, and Communism in the twentieth century. Monarchy gave way to parliamentary democracy, but during the initial phases, the voting franchise remained with an educated, moderately wealthy elite. Although this elite looked out for its own interests, its agenda included many liberal reforms – such as free trade and universal education – that benefited the entire population. The liberal agenda also included expansion of the voting franchise, which, ironically, eventually led to liberalism’s demise.

V. The Rise of Political Identification in the Nineteenth Century As the Industrial Revolution ground on, demands by workers for better treatment increased and socialist ideas took hold. Socialism’s rise came, of course, at the expense of economic liberalism. The Industrial Revolution demonstrated to many the individual’s vulnerability to the forces of the market and capitalism, and the state would have to redress the balance. Thus, that peculiarly Continental European trust in the state’s wisdom and benevolence appears in the nineteenth century. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel was perhaps the most influential proponent of this view. Like Hobbes, Hegel saw the state’s most important characteristic and the one in which it differed from other organizations as its sovereignty. Unlike Hobbes, he did not see this sovereignty merely as an instrument for imposing law and order but endowed it with high ethical content. Acknowledging no superior, alone of all institutions on earth the state possessed the freedom to develop in accordance with its own nature, a freedom which it bestowed on its citizens (so long as they cooperated with it) and which provided it with its justification. From a machine designed to serve this purpose or that, the state was elevated into nothing less than “the echo of God’s footsteps on earth.” (van Creveld, 1999, pp. 195–6)

The historian Heinrich von Treitschke expressed the same thought more succinctly: “For us the state is not, as it is for the Americans, a power to be constrained so that the will of the individual may remain uninhibited, but rather a cultural power from which we expect positive achievements in all areas of national life.”32 Remarkably, despite the excesses of European states over the twentieth century, this trust in the state’s omniscience over the intelligence of the individual consumer and citizen remains unshaken in the minds of most members of Europe’s political elites even to this day. 32

As quoted in Burleigh (2005, p. 327).

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The socialist movement was multifaceted. One variant was anticlerical, “scientific,” and promised a form of salvation from the hardships caused by the Industrial Revolution. This movement was heavily influenced by Marxism and is symbolized by the Social Democratic Party of Germany (SPD), the largest anticlerical Socialist Party in Continental Europe at the end of the nineteenth century. In 1909–10, the SPD had 7,310,000 members, “comfortably more than the major socialist parties of Austria, Belgium, Denmark, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, and the UK combined.”33 In the 1912 election, the SPD captured more than one-third of the vote and became the largest party in the Reichstag.34 Many people like to think of movements like Social Democracy as forms of so-called secular religions that arose to replace traditional religions during the nineteenth century as the latter faded in importance in Europe. I do not like to think of such ideological movements as religions, because they did not possess the main features of a religion – belief in invisible spirits, an afterlife, and so on. These secular movements did, however, succeed in fulfilling an important function of traditional religions – providing their members with a sense of identity. During the nineteenth century, religious and ethnic identities and loyalties were replaced by loyalty to a political party rooted in a social class: “Social Democracy was not merely a political party together with a closely allied and subordinate trade union movement, but a way of life, consisting of a self-contained subculture that thrived in working-class quarters of big cities.”35 A “scion of a Berlin socialist household” phrased it this way: In the solidarisitic identification of the individual with the whole, they built the powerful organizations and communities which, like great religions, placed people under their spell. They gave them a view of the world, a country and a home. Here people did not only take part in politics: they also sang and drank, celebrated and made friendships. What was impossible elsewhere was possible here: you could be a human being. (Burleigh, 2005, p. 267)

Communism was the most extreme form of secular Socialism, but other nineteenth-century utopian movements had similar characteristics. A second strain of Socialism attempted to incorporate Christianity. Christ, with his love for the poor, was depicted as the first socialist, and these movements attempted to combine and transpose attachments to religion into loyalty to socialist causes. Christian Socialism was reinforced 33 34 35

Blackbourn (1998, p. 412). Blackbourn (1998, p. 413). Burleigh (2005, p. 266).

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by nineteenth-century Romanticism. Reason went out of fashion and, for some, religion came back into vogue: “Christianity [was identified] as the original source of socialist virtues, and the early Christians as prototypical of incipient socialist organization.”36 Thus, economic class – sometimes joined with religion, sometimes not – became an important group identifier during the nineteenth century, and led to the rise of the class-based political parties – Labour, Socialist, Social Democratic, Communist, Conservative – that dominated European politics throughout the twentieth century. Political parties also developed in the United States during the nineteenth century, but they were less class-based. The prototypical American party arose in New York between 1820 and 1860. The Empire State was then “the citadel of democracy.”37 Martin Van Buren led what was known as the Albany Regency, which “became the backbone of the new Democratic party.” Although the political views of the leading figures in the Albany Regency spanned the full ideological spectrum, . . . they agreed that the Democratic Party in New York must be a united center party. This they effected by a system of rewards and punishments, through control of the state senate and so (under the constitution of 1821) of appointive offices. They extended their organization into every town and county, which afforded them an unparalleled political intelligence service. By supporting winning presidential candidates in 1828, 1832, and 1836, they got a stranglehold on the federal patronage as well. Van Buren and his friends, regarding themselves as champions of “the people” against “special interests,” advocated making former appointive offices elective since they could select the candidates in party conventions, they honestly believed that “the people,” to prevail against organized wealth, must be led by bosses and kept in line by the spoils system. (Morison, 1965, pp. 488–9)

The Albany Regency’s political model “spread throughout the Union, although issues differed from state to state. Party organization in the Jackson era settled into a pattern that has changed little since.”38 Although workers, farmers, and businesspeople have been drawn to one or another party at different times, American political parties have generally been less ideological than European parties. The key feature of the American democratic system, which has existed in different degrees throughout its history, has been a form of party politics that rewards party members and their friends, whether it be through patronage or pork-barrel projects. This often has resulted in the interests of politicians and their supporters getting satisfied 36 37 38

Burleigh (2005, p. 262). Morison (1965, ch. 31). Morison (1965, p. 490).

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at the expense of the wider public, a feature of American politics that helps explain why Americans hold their elected officials in such low repute. Because the United States was spared the harshest social consequences of the Industrial Revolution, counterrevolutionary movements like Socialism and Communism never gained the strength that they enjoyed in Europe. This meant that American political parties remained far less ideological, and explains why Americans during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries continued to find their personal identities in traditional religions rather than in new, ideologically driven political movements. The other important group identifier that arose in Europe during the nineteenth century, and again was of less importance in the United Sates, was nationalism. Awareness of national identify developed prior to the nineteenth century in countries like England and France that were already nation states, but it was the French Revolution and the reign of Napoleon that fused national identity and loyalty to the state. France was the first to introduce compulsory military service at the time of Napoleon, and it was decisive in harnessing nationalistic sentiments to the service of the state. Famous as they were, the writings of Rousseau, Herder, Fichte, Hegel and the like were read by only a relative handful. It was only when the French state, after the Revolution, instituted the lev´ee en masse – in which respect it was followed by other states – that the Great Transformation took place to nationalism, fostered by every means at the authorities’ disposal, was turned into the dominant ideology of the nineteenth century. (van Creveld, 1999, pp. 336–7)

Nationalism advanced in Germany and Italy during the nineteenth century as they, for the first time, began to be recognized as nation-states both within and outside of their borders. Nationalist movements also gained strength in countries like France and Austria. In Germany, Austria, and France, nationalism also became entwined with anti-Semitism. The economic crisis of 1873 in Germany led to a search for scapegoats, as economic crises often do. Many Jews had climbed aboard the liberal bandwagon during the nineteenth century and obtained leading positions in such conspicuous sectors as banking. Thus, Jews became the obvious scapegoats for the 1873 economic crisis. Anti-Semitism became a rallying issue in Germany and Austria for new extremist parties on both the right and left, but its popularity among voters also led major parties to include it in their rhetoric. The German Kaiser’s blatant anti-Semitism served to reinforce its popularity.39 Anti-Semitism was not confined to Germany and Austria between 1870 and 39

Schorske (1981), Fulbrook (1992, ch. 5), and Blackbourn (1998, pp. 307–10, 436–40).

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World War I, however; it was rampant in France, Russia, and in varying degrees across much of Europe. Liberalism is an ideology that appeals to the human faculty of reasoning. It is unsurprising, therefore, that nineteenth-century liberals were drawn from the educated and wealthier strata of European society, and that liberalism could survive politically only so long as the electorate was largely drawn from the same strata. Liberalism could not compete with ideologies that appealed more closely to tribal instincts, and thus gave way to Socialism and nationalism as the voting franchise expanded over the nineteenth century, and political parties became better organized and in search of issues that stirred voters’ passions. These twin identifiers of group solidarity – Socialism and nationalism – also helped fan the passions that resulted in the Russian Revolution and World War I at the start of the twentieth century.

VI. Religion and the Third Reich The rise of Communism and Fascism was certainly the most momentous world event of the first half of the twentieth century. Each mounted a challenge against liberal democracy, and each succeeded in conquering it for a time. Each raised a host of moral issues. In particular, one wants to know how a movement like Fascism – so alien to common notions of morality – could take root in Christian countries like Italy and Germany. Pushing further, one wants to know about the relationship between the Christian churches in these countries and the Fascist movements. For many, this issue remains emotionally charged and to take it up is to enter a veritable minefield. Nevertheless, the question of the links between religion and politics is so central to this book that we cannot avoid examining the Christian churches’ roles in resisting – or abetting – Fascism. Given its importance within the Fascist movement, we concentrate on National Socialism in Germany, and begin with two interrelated questions: (1) To what extent was National Socialism anti-Christian? (2) To what extent were leading Nazis also Christians, and Christians also Nazis? Following a discussion of these issues, the relationship between the Vatican and Fascism and in particular National Socialism are examined.

A. The Weltanschauung of National Socialism In Roger Petersen’s (2002) studies of ethnic violence in Eastern Europe, the pattern was nearly always the same. An ethnic group’s status suddenly drops relative to that of another ethnic group and it later takes revenge by turning

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on the second group with fierce violence. One way to understand National Socialism’s rise in Germany is as another example of a violent reaction of an ethnic group to a sudden decline in status. During the nineteenth century, Germany rose to become the second most powerful country in Europe following Britain, and in its own eyes, perhaps, second to none. Unification made it both an economic and a military power. Its military power was demonstrated by its victory in the Franco-Prussian War. Its growing economic power became more and more evident as Great Britain entered into decline. At the outbreak of World War I, the Germans were amply justified in thinking of themselves as Europe’s number one power if not the world’s. Defeat and the severe and humiliating conditions imposed by the victors produced a sudden reversal of Germany’s status. Who to blame? The socalled international Jewish conspiracy was the obvious culprit. Blaming Jews merely rekindled the anti-Semitism present during much of the nineteenth century. Linking Jews to an international conspiracy made it seem as if they were somehow behind the painful sanctions imposed on Germany after the war. The program of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeitspartiei (NSDAP, or National Socialist German Workers’ Party) was announced at a large party meeting in Munich on February 25, 1920. It outlined the NSDAP’s conception of Germany’s future political development in a twentyfive-point program. Article 1 demanded “the unification of all Germans in the Greater Germany on the basis of the right of self-determination of peoples,” while Article 2 demanded “abrogation of the peace treaties of Versailles and St. Germain.” The prominence given to abrogation of the treaties indicates the importance of their harsh terms for the Nazi program. Excerpts from additional articles that capture key elements of the program follow: 10. The first obligation of every citizen must be to work both spiritually and physically. The activity of individuals is not to counteract the interests of the universality, but must have its result within the framework of the whole for the benefit of all. Consequently we demand: 11. Abolition of unearned (work and labor) incomes. Breaking rent-slavery. 13. . . . nationalization of all (previous) associated industries (trusts). 14. . . . a division of profits of all heavy industries. 18. We demand struggle without consideration against those whose activity is injurious to the general interest. Common national criminals, usurers, racketeers [Schieber] and so forth are to be punished with death, without consideration of confession or race. 23. We demand legal opposition to known lies and their promulgation through the press. In order to enable the provision of a German press, we demand, that: a. All writers and employees of the newspapers appearing in the German

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language be members of the race . . . Publications which are counter to the general good are to be forbidden. We demand legal persecution of artistic and literary forms which exert a destructive influence on our national life . . . 24. We demand freedom of religion for all religious denominations within the state so long as they do not endanger its existence or oppose the moral senses of the German race. The Party as such advocates the standpoint of a positive Christianity without binding itself confessionally to any denomination. It combats the Jewish-materialistic spirit within and around us, and is convinced that a lasting recovery of our nation can only succeed from within on the framework: The good of the state before the good of the individual. 25. For the execution of all this we demand the formation of a strong central power in the Reich. . . . 40

Article 24 appears to guarantee freedom of religion – except for Jews – but it, along with Article 10, clearly reveal that the interests of the individual are to be subservient to those of the state. Basic liberties like private property and freedom of speech and the press would only be allowed if they did not run “counter to the general good” as determined by the NSDAP. Alfred Rosenberg (1893–1946) played an important role in defining the NSDAP’s Weltanschauung. He was a prolific writer, with Der Mythos des 20 Jahrhunderts (The Myth of the Twentieth Century, [1935], first published in 1930 with several later editions) being his most influential work. Rosenberg saw history as a Darwinian struggle between races in which a superior race – the Aryans – was destined to win over inferior races like the Jews and black Africans. Each race had its own myth, which defined its culture: Racial history is therefore natural history and the mysticism of the soul at one and the same time; but the history of the religion of the blood, conversely, is the great world story of the rise and downfall of peoples, their heroes and thinkers, their inventors and artists.41

Although Rosenberg was strongly anti-Christian and The Myth can be regarded as a representation of the anti-Christian thinking in National Socialism, he used religious metaphors and symbolism to advance the case for National Socialism. Today a new faith is stirring: the myth of blood, the faith that along with blood we are defending the divine nature of man as a whole. The belief, incarnate with the most lucid knowledge, that Nordic blood represents that mystery which has replaced and overcome the old sacraments.42 40 41

42

The complete text of the NSDAP program can be obtained at http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/National Socialist Program#The full text of the 25 point program. Taken from chapter 13 of Fest (1970) as it appeared on December 15, 2006, at http:// ourcivilization.com/smartboard/shop/festjc/chap13.htm; see also http://web.archive.org/ web/20020211174958/http://www.ety.com/HRP/booksonline/mythos/mythostoc.htm. Ibid; emphasis in original.

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This passage clearly reveals that Nazism, as Rosenberg conceived of it, sought to create another form of traditionalism as an underpinning of the state. “The myth of blood” would replace religious myths in creating a sense of identity for citizens of Nazi Germany. Adolph Hitler was not as outspoken in his opposition to Christianity as Rosenberg. In 1933, he concluded a concordat with the Catholic Church that purported to protect its members and property from the state within Germany, and he never formally renounced his membership from the Church. Yet these and other actions appear to have been strategic maneuvers to avoid confrontations that might undermine support for the Nazi Party among German Christians. Piper (2007, p. 51), for example, quotes Hitler as saying, “Once the war is over, that’s the end of the Concordat,” and even before the war began, the Third Reich’s violations of the Concordat were sufficiently frequent and serious to elicit an encyclical from the Vatican in 1937 protesting the treatment of Catholics and the Church in Germany (see subsection C below). These and other examples indicate that National Socialism was not a proponent of or in partnership with Christianity. Rather, in the minds of many of its leading figures, it was an opposing ideology that would do away with the Christian churches once the war was won.43 Just as Social Democracy has been called a secular religion, Nazism and Communism are often described as “political religions.”44 At best, the term is a metaphor pointing to some similarities between these political movements and religious movements; at worst, it ignores important differences between their underlying ideologies and beliefs.45 The common elements of religions are belief (1) in supernatural, intentional beings, (2) that one can communicate with and engage in exchange with these supernatural beings, and (3) in an afterlife and great concern about the passage from this life to the next.46 National Socialism and Communism contain none of these elements. Like most religions, they required great sacrifices for the movement, but the rewards for these sacrifices would not come in an afterlife but rather here on Earth – after the proletariat triumphed over the capitalists, or in the Third Reich’s thousand-year reign. Both Communism and National Socialism were very much this-world oriented. In this respect, they represented more closely early, local religions than the universal religions. Indeed, many leading Nazis have been characterized more as “paganists” than Christians.47 43 44 45 46 47

See Piper (2007) and Hexham (2007). See discussion in Burleigh (2005, pp. 2–4). See discussion in Stowers (2007). See Chapter Three. Steigmann-Gall (2003).

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The metaphor political religion does apply, however, when one compares the methods that religions and political movements use to recruit members and retain their loyalty. We return to this later, and thus only mention here the tendency within National Socialism to make Hitler appear as a godlike figure. Hitler seems to have believed in a God, the creator of Heaven and Earth. Mein Kampf contains many references to God, but God for Hitler was a providential God. Rissmann (2001), in fact, argues that Hitler saw himself as a kind of Messiah chosen by God to lead the German people to victory over their enemies. Although Hitler did not think of himself as God, the creator of Heaven and Earth, he perhaps did see himself as a kind of God on Earth, and many of his followers thought of him in that way. Here one is reminded of the early empires in Sumer and Egypt, where the dictatorial leader claimed to be a god. Neither Hitler nor Rosenberg nor other leading Nazis seem to have believed that National Socialism was a religion in the strictest sense of the word, but they did use religion’s symbolism and language to maintain support for their cause including, for example, creating a whole set of national holidays to supplant existing religious holidays. More generally, many leading Nazis, including Hitler, clearly believed that National Socialism would someday – after the victory over the allies – substitute for the Christian religions.

B. Christians as Nazis, Nazis as Christians In The Holy Reich, Richard Steigmann-Gall advances the thesis that “Christianity, in the final analysis, did not constitute a barrier to Nazism.” Quite the opposite: For many of the subjects of his study, the battles waged against Germany’s enemies constituted a war in the name of Christianity.48 Steigmann-Gall justifies this claim by quoting many important members of the National Socialist Party who were Christians:49 1. Dietrich Eckart (1868–1923), early ideologue in the Nazi movement. “Christ stands never otherwise than upright . . . eyes flashing in the midst of the creeping Jewish rabble.” He had an important influence on Hitler, as evidenced by the tribute to Eckart at the end of Mein Kampf. 2. Artur Dinter (1876–1948), ideologue and novelist, suggested removing the Old Testament from Christian doctrine, because it reflected “the 48 49

Steigmann-Gall (2003, p. 261). Steigmann-Gall (2003, pp. 17–26).

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religious thinking of the Jews, which is based upon lies and betrayal, business and profit.” 3. Dietrich Klagges (1891–1971), first Nazi to obtain ministerial office, and responsible for Hitler’s obtaining German citizenship, which allowed him to run for elected office; author of the book The Original Gospel of Jesus. 4. Walter Buch (1883–1949), president of the Nazi Party’s Supreme Court. Buch was an advocate of positive Christianity. Positive Christianity is mentioned in Article 24 of the NSDAP program. It was also stressed by Rosenberg. Where negative Christianity was associated with the Old Testament and such Christian values as love, forgiveness, and charity, positive Christianity was a more active form of belief emphasizing honor and heroism. Buch claimed that “Christ preached struggle as did no other,” and thereby drew a link between Christianity and the Nazis’ struggle for power. 5. Hans Schemm (1891–1935), head of National Socialist Teachers’ League, quoted at the beginning of this chapter. In addition to Nazis, who thought of themselves as good Christians, some members of established churches were active in the Nazi Party.50 Erich Koch (1896–1996) was district leader in East Prussia and elected president of the provincial Protestant church synod before World War II. Koch was sentenced to death after the war for crimes committed while he was Reichskommisar in charge of Poland, East Prussia, and the Ukraine, although the sentence was never carried out. Steigmann-Gall has received much criticism.51 One critic notes that “All the Nazi protagonists belonged to a generation born between 1880 and 1910 into an empire oriented towards Christianity. What other religious-philosophical influences could they be expected to bring with them . . . ?”52 Another dismisses the example of Dietrich Eckart on the grounds that he “was above all an antisemite.”53 However, these criticisms seem to miss an important part of Steigmann-Gall’s story. The Nazis did not invent anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitism was an important part of the German/Christian environment of the nineteenth century,54 and indeed, was present to various degrees in most Christian countries over much of the 50 51 52 53 54

Steigmann-Gall (2003, pp. 1–2). See the symposium on it in the Journal of Contemporary History, Vol. 42(1), 2007. Gailus (2007, p. 38). Piper (2007, p. 47). Burleigh (2005, ch. 9).

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last millennium. If that were not the case, the Nazis would not have been able to exploit this emotion so easily. Although one can question whether the Christian dimension to the Nazi program was as important as SteigmannGall suggests, one cannot challenge the fact that Christian thinking and Germany being an overwhelmingly Christian country did not prevent the Nazi takeover. Moreover, once the Nazis began to implement their program, people who professed to be Christians filled the administrative posts and army ranks of the regime just as readily as any other group, except for the Jews. Perhaps, the strongest evidence in support for this argument is presented by Doris Bergen: The overwhelming majority of Germans remained baptized, tax-paying members of the official Christian Churches throughout the 12 years of nazi rule. In hindsight, it may seem impossible to reconcile the vicious hatreds of nazism with Christianity’s injunction to ‘turn the other cheek’ or to square the circle of nazi antisemitism with Christianity’s obvious origins in Judaism. But the vast majority of Germans – over 95 percent by the last count in 1939 – evidently had no problem doing so. That fact alone speaks for a coexistence of Christianity and National Socialism. (Bergen, 2007, p. 29)

C. The Vatican and Fascism During the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, both Pius IX and Pius X had been outspoken in their criticisms of modernism and democracy. As the twentieth century proceeded, the political dimensions of modernism took still newer forms with the triumph of Communism in Russia, and Fascism in Italy, Germany, and Spain. Would the Church speak out as forcefully against these political developments as it did against democracy in the nineteenth century? With respect to Communism, the answer is an emphatic yes. The Church had already noticed the threat posed by “godless Communism” in the nineteenth century and remained steadfast in its opposition to Communism in the twentieth century. For example, in 1937 Pius XI issued an encyclical Divini Redemptoris,55 in which the following attack on modernism appears: This modern revolution . . . has actually broken out or threatens everywhere, and it exceeds in amplitude and violence anything yet experienced in the preceding persecutions launched against the Church. Entire peoples find themselves in danger of falling back into a barbarism worse than that which oppressed the greater part of the word at the coming of the Redeemer (Article 2). 55

http://www.vatican.va/holy father/pius xi/encyclicals/documents/hf pxi enc 19031937 divini-redemptoris en.html.

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Given that this was written in 1937 when Fascist regimes in Italy and Germany were firmly established, that many perceived them to be antiChristian, and that their goals and means for achieving them were becoming apparent, one might have guessed that the references to “violence” and “barbarism” referred to Nazism and Fascism. But no, Divini Redemptoris continues: 3. This all too imminent danger, Venerable Brethren, as you have already surmised, is bolshevistic and atheistic Communism, which aims at upsetting the social order and at undermining the very foundations of Christian civilization. 4. In the face of such a threat, the Catholic Church could not and does not remain silent. The Apostolic See, above all, has not refrained from raising its voice, for it knows that its proper and social mission is to defend truth, justice and all those eternal values which Communism ignores or attacks. Ever since the days when groups of “intellectuals” were formed in an arrogant attempt to free civilization from the bonds of morality and religion, Our Predecessors overtly and explicitly drew the attention of the world to the consequences of the dechristianization of human society. With reference to Communism, Our Venerable Predecessor, Pius IX . . . as early as 1846 pronounced a solemn condemnation . . . directed against “that infamous doctrine of so-called Communism which is absolutely contrary to the natural law itself, . . . ”

Despite the death and destruction caused by the Fascist regimes in Italy and Germany, the Vatican never chose to “raise its voice” against Fascism as “overtly and explicitly” as it did against Communism on this or any other occasion. Why this is so continues to be hotly debated. Part of the answer undoubtedly lies in the Vatican’s abhorrence of Communism. “By and large, the Vatican got along well with Mussolini’s Fascist regime. Frightened by the specter of bolshevism in Italy, many leading Catholics welcomed the March on Rome” that led to the Fascist takeover of power in Italy.56 Many Catholics (including most likely Pope Pius XII who had a great fear of Communism) saw Fascism as a bulwark against Communism. Part of the reason that the Vatican did not speak out against the Fascists’ treatment of Jews was that the Church itself had long discriminated against them. Prior to the seizure of papal lands in 1870 by the newly formed Italian state, Jews living on papal lands were restricted both as to where they could live and the occupations they could pursue. Many discriminatory laws initiated by Mussolini were reinstatements of restrictions on Jews formerly imposed by the Church. Although the Vatican objected to some of these laws – as, for example, those restricting Jews from marrying Catholics – it 56

Delzell (1967).

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and many Catholic officials were sympathetic to separating Jews and Christians. On October 10, 1938, the Italian ambassador to the Holy See stated that “the recent deliberations of the Grand Council [approving the Declaration of Race] have not found, overall, an unfavorable welcome at the Vatican.”57 (The Declaration of Race was a set of anti-Jewish measures originally proposed by Mussolini and subsequently enacted into law.) Zuccotti (2000, ch. 2) cites numerous articles published in Catholic periodicals from the 1890s into the 1930s that reveal the extent of anti-Judaism among official representatives of the Catholic Church. This twentiethcentury anti-Judaism differed from earlier Catholic strictures against Jews, however, in that it was not motivated by blame for murdering Christ, but by the Church’s dislike for modernism (“liberalism, democracy, constitutionalism, capitalist exploitation, excessive Nationalism, Socialism, Communism”), and the belief that Jews were somehow behind these modern developments.58 On July 20, 1933, the Vatican attempted to make peace with the new government in Germany. The concordat issued on that date begins as follows: His Holiness Pope Pius XI and the President of the German Reich, moved by a common desire to consolidate and enhance the friendly relations existing between the Holy See and the German Reich, . . . 59

This might strike the reader as a remarkably cordial opening to an agreement between the Catholic Church and the Nazi regime, an agreement reached just as the Nazis were introducing their first discriminatory measures against Jews.60 The goal of the concordat, however, was to protect Catholics and Catholic institutions from the Third Reich. As of 1933, the Vatican showed little interest in the fate of Jews in Germany. However, the concordat failed to protect priests in Germany from attacks, churches from vandalism, Catholic schools from being closed, and still other affronts to the Church. Thus, in 1937 the Vatican felt compelled to issue an encyclical Mit Brennender Sorge (With Burning Concern), in which it complained about the Third Reich’s violations of the concordat and, most significantly, castigated the regime’s underlying premises. 8. Whoever exalts race, or the people, or the State, or a particular form of State, or the depositories of power, or any other fundamental value of the human community – however necessary and honorable be their function in worldly things – whoever 57 58 59 60

Zuccotti (2000, p. 52). Zuccotti (2000, pp. 14–15). http://www.newadvent.org/library/docs ss33co.htm. Zuccotti (2000, p. 8).

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raises these notions above their standard value and divinizes them to an idolatrous level, distorts and perverts an order of the world planned and created by God; he is far from the true faith in God and from the concept of life which that faith upholds. None but superficial minds could stumble into concepts of a national God, of a national religion; or attempt to lock within the frontiers of a single people, within the narrow limits of a single race, God, the Creator of the universe, King and Legislator of all nations before whose immensity they are “as a drop of a bucket” (Isaiah xI, 15).61

Thus, by 1937 Pope Pius XI appeared to recognize the Third Reich’s character and the danger it posed. Still, condemnations of it remained less specific than earlier condemnations of Communism, and Pius XI failed to mention either National Socialism or Nazism explicitly. Nor were Jews mentioned explicitly. Indeed, Mit Brennender Sorge revealed an important difference between the position of the Nazis with respect to Jews and that of the Church. The Nazis persecuted Jews because they were an inferior race. The Catholic Church vigorously opposed the idea of superior and inferior races, however – anyone could be baptized and become a Catholic and enter Heaven. Catholic discrimination against Jews was based on their religion – they were not Catholics, but rather freethinkers behind modernism and its attacks on the Church.62 Pius XII became pope in 1938. He purportedly had a hand in drafting Mit Brennender Sorge, but his relationship to Fascism and the Hitler regime is nevertheless highly controversial. On one extreme, some see him as basically a Fascist himself, and little more than a stooge of Hitler.63 Pius XII’s defenders, on the other hand, see him suffering in silence during the war to prevent still worse Fascist tragedies and as a valuable protector of Jews.64 Pius XII’s Christmas message of 1942 is often cited as an instance of his speaking out against Nazism and the Holocaust. Although the pope explicitly condemned “Marxist Socialism” and “positivism and utilitarianism” in this message, his references to Nazism and the Holocaust were much more elliptical. He refers to the war as a “universal disaster,” and laments that “hundreds of thousands of persons . . . without any fault on their part, sometimes only because of nationality or race, have been consigned to death or slow decline.”65 Thus, 61 62 63 64 65

http://www.vatican.va/holy father/pius xi/encyclicals/documents/hf pxi enc 14031937 mitbrennendersorge en.html. See discussion in Zuccotti (2000, pp. 15–17, 29–46). Perhaps the most extreme of this group is Cornwall (1999). See, for example, the book by Nun Margherita Marchione (2000) and discussion (Zuccotti, 2000, pp. 311–17). http://www.ewtn.com/library/PAPALDOC/P12CH42.HTM.

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once again the pope chose to condemn killing because of race, but not because of religion. No explicit mention of Jews is made, and the words Nazism or Fascism never appear. Why did Popes Pius XI and XII not speak out early and forcefully against Mussolini and Hitler? For example, once it was known that Nazis were murdering Jews and one could guess that they intended to exterminate them, why did Pius XII not announce that any Catholic who participated in the killing of Jews would be excommunicated? Had he done so, he would have sent a signal to the entire world that what was happening in Italy and Germany was morally wrong. It might have caused some Catholics and other Christians in the Fascist regimes to reconsider their loyalties, strengthened the resolve of those opposed to the regimes and, at a minimum, would have provided a clear warning to all Jews in Europe of the dangers that faced them. As it stood, the position of the Church was that a Catholic would be excommunicated for converting to Judaism, but not for murdering hundreds or thousands of Jews. The priorities of the Vatican during the Fascist period appear to have been as follows:66 1. Protect the autonomy of the Vatican and above all else prevent its occupation by the Nazis (Mussolini would never have considered such a move) and the abduction of the pope. 2. Protect Catholic institutions and clergy in Italy, Germany, and the occupied countries. 3. Avoid alienating Catholics and driving them from the Church as, for example, by excommunicating them. 4. Protect Jews who had converted to Catholicism, or those who had married Catholics. Protecting Jews who had not converted appears to have been of low priority. Zuccotti (2000, p. 323) offers this additional explanation for why the Vatican did so little to help save Jews: The handful of decision-makers [in the Vatican] . . . were diplomats who, without the distractions of wives and children, were single-mindedly devoted to their careers and their institutions, and unwilling to risk either. Most of them, also, believed that the “preponderant Jews,” in the traditional phrase of La Civit`a Cattolica [an official publication of the Church], were a well-organized and well-financed international 66

The discussion here is based on the well-researched historical account by Zuccotti (2000).

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force, able to take care of themselves. The Vatican must concentrate its resources and energies on the Catholic faithful, so threatened by the modern world.

Ironically, this interpretation resembles the arguments of leading Nazis like Adolf Eichmann in defense of their role in the Holocaust – they were just bureaucrats following orders.67 The top officials in the Vatican were bureaucrats also, and just like many Nazi bureaucrats, they too were timid in taking risks to prevent the killing of Jews.

D. An Interpretation In trying to make the case that Nazism contained a strong Christian component, Richard Steigmann-Gall claims that Alfred Rosenberg, whom we have depicted as a major architect of the Nazi Weltanschauung, had little influence on either Hitler or the general public. This claim is difficult to justify.68 The Myth had a cumulative circulation of close to one million copies over its many editions, and two subsequent books by Rosenberg sold more than 600,000 copies each. It is inconceivable that these books went unread. Upon the National Socialist Party’s takeover in 1933, Hitler also sent a thank-you letter to Rosenberg, which began: My dear Comrade Rosenberg! One of the first conditions necessary for the National Socialist movement to be victorious was the spiritual destruction of the hostile world of ideas opposing us. Since the era of Dietrich Eckart, not only have you, my dear Comrade Rosenberg, unflinchingly led the assault against this world of ideas but you have also contributed in an extraordinary way, by your political and philosophical leadership of the Party’s central organization, to ensuring the all-permeating philosophical unity of our political campaign.69

Piper (2007) argues that religion was part of the hostile world of ideas that National Socialism attempted to conquer. Further evidence of Hitler’s appreciation of the contribution of Rosenberg to the Nazi cause is his decision to select Rosenberg to be the first recipient of the National Prize for Art and Science, awarded at the Party Congress in 1937.70 Hexham (2007, p. 76) cautions against dismissing the importance of Rosenberg’s The Myth of the Twentieth Century just because it is rambling and fails to meet professional standards for rational argument. He cites the 67 68 69 70

Arendt (1963). Piper (2007). Piper (2007). Hexham (2007, p. 71).

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Book of Mormon, works of Madam Blavatsky (founder of Theosophy), L. Ron Hubbard (Scientology), Sun Myung Moon (Unification Church), Sri Bagwan Rajneesh (Osho movement), and Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (Transcendental Meditation movement) as having similar failings.71 He might have added Karl Marx’s Das Kapital, the Bible, Koran, the Vedas, and Bhagavad Git¯a of Hinduism and still others. All are rambling in places and fail to meet professional standards of rational argument. In judging the importance of these sorts of works for a political or religious movement, it is useful to distinguish between two phases of a movement – an early phase when the movement is attempting to win converts and a mature phase when the movement is well established and its main goal is to retain membership. Initiation rites are common in many religions and other organizations. Often they take the form of an act of heroism. Many U.S. college fraternities require that pledges undergo hazing rituals before being admitted. On some occasions, these have led to injury and even the death of the candidate. Street gangs often also require acts of bravery – like committing a crime – to be accepted. By such actions the new member proves he is worthy of membership. Acceptance of an obscure or implausible text can also be a form of initiation rite. Consider, for example, this introduction to a chapter of the Book of Tao entitled The Utility of Not-Being: Thirty spokes unite around the nave; From their not-being (loss of their individuality) Arises the utility of the wheel. Mold clay into a vessel; From its not-being (in the vessel’s hollow) Arises the utility of the vessel. Cut out doors and windows in the house (-wall), From their not-being (empty space) Arises the utility of the house. Therefore by the existence of things we profit. And by the non-existence of things we are served.72

Is this a profound insight into the mysteries of life or mystical nonsense? Certainly its meaning is more obscure that the statement “Windows are useful because they let in light.” In the introduction to The Wisdom of Laotse, its editor writes, “The first reaction of anyone scanning the Book of Tao is laughter; the second reaction, laughter at one’s own laughter; and the 71 72

Hexham (2007, p. 77). Yutang (1948, p. 87).

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third, a feeling that this sort of teaching is very much needed today.”73 He then goes on quoting Laotse, author of the Book of Tao: When the highest type of men hear the Tao (truth) They try hard to live in accordance with it. When the mediocre hear the Tao, They seem to be aware and yet unaware of it When the lowest type hear of Tao, They break into loud laughter – If it were not laughed at, it would not be Tao.

Here the meaning is quite clear. Although the text of the Book of Tao may seem trite or obscure at first, its profound meaning can be found by reading and rereading it. Once one understands and lives by it, one becomes one of the highest types of men; so to join the highest types of men, one better keep reading and rereading it until one understands it – or feels that one can claim to understand it. Thus, the very obscurity of the text makes the assertion that one understands a kind of initiation rite into Taoism. Two individuals who claim to understand the Book of Tao share a comradery in the belief that they have joined the ranks of the highest men. Although the logic underlying Rosenberg’s account of the evolution of races might be difficult to follow and accept, there is no doubt when reading the book who the good and bad guys are. The economic logic underlying Marx’s theory is dense and obscure, but his colorful use of adjectives makes it easy to identify the capitalists and bourgeoisie as the villains of the day and the workers as heroes. In both cases, the claim to understand the logic of the argument in the early days of the Nazi and Marxist movements admitted one into a select circle making the same claim. The obscurity of both texts made it impossible to prove that one understood them, and thereby removed the necessity of doing so. The claims that God made the universe and all living animals including humans in six days; that the Red Sea parted to let the Jews across (would the bottom not be too muddy to wade through?); and that Noah captured pairs of polar bears, Indian and African elephants, alligators and crocodiles, kangaroos, and every species of bird and butterfly seem incredulous. Nor are parts of the New Testament easier to accept – walking on water, rising from the dead, turning water into wine? Rosenberg’s claims about racial differences and Marx’s claims about class struggles pale in comparison to those in the Bible. A key difference between them, however, is that the former claims can be tested and refuted with the passage of time, whereas 73

Yutang (1948, p. 5).

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the Bible’s claims are untestable. Thus, when a political or religious movement is starting, obscurity and incredulity in its basic texts can actually be an advantage by providing a kind of admission test for the movement. By claiming to understand and believe the text’s obscure or preposterous arguments, one proves to the movement’s members that one “is one of us.” The logic of membership is much different in a well-established movement. A citizen in a Bavarian village is Catholic not because he has read the Bible, the Koran, the Bhagavad Git¯a, and other religious texts and after much reflection decided that Catholicism gives the most plausible account of the world’s creation and God’s nature. He is Catholic because his parents and neighbors are Catholics and because his parents took him to a Catholic church when he was a child. For similar reasons, a citizen of a small town in Schleswig-Holstein is likely to be Lutheran. When a particular belief system is dominant in a community, it benefits from the tendency for individuals to think what other people in the community think. Numerous experiments have established the strength of innate desires to conform to a group. In one such experiment, individuals were asked to compare a line on a card with three other lines, and choose the line that is closest in length to the one on the card. The experimenter planted participants in the group who deliberately chose the wrong lines and had the subjects of the experiment choose after the planted participants chose. Substantial numbers of the actual subjects followed the planted participants in choosing a line that was obviously not of the same length as the line on the card. When asked later why they made this choice, they said that they did not want to go against the group.74 If group pressure can be strong enough in the presence of strangers to lead people to make obviously wrong choices about the lengths of lines, how strong must it be among family and friends about something as important as religion or politics? How many people will have the courage or audacity to say that they reject the religion of their parents and community? Clearly not many, otherwise Italy would not be overwhelmingly Catholic and Saudi Arabia Muslim. As the 1930s progressed, National Socialism became the dominant political ideology in Germany. To speak out against National Socialism would be to question the collective wisdom of the group and to risk ostracism, just as one would risk ostracism by speaking out against the Catholic Church in southern Germany and against Protestantism in the north. By 1938, the good 74

See the discussion of this and other experiments in Asch (1952).

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German would attend a Nazi rally on Saturday shouting out “Sieg Heil,” and church services on Sunday intoning Amens. She did so almost unthinkingly, without questioning the plausibility of each’s doctrines. Christianity and National Socialism were able to coexist happily in Germany because each was sustained by a similar, unquestioning acceptance of the predominant belief systems in the community. The successes and excesses of Nazism and Communism during the twentieth century illustrate that religions are not the only isms antithetical to liberal democracy. Successful liberal democracy requires a well-educated citizenry with sufficient commitment to community welfare to become informed and participate responsibly in its democratic process. Ignorance, superstition, and civic laziness are liberal democracy’s prime enemies. Ignorance and superstition can take many forms. In the case of Communism, it was the belief that individual incentives could be destroyed in the workplace and community without harming the economy and social environment. In Nazism’s case, the major failure was acceptance of the claim that the Germanic people were a master race destined to rule Europe, if not the entire world, for a thousand years. An additional failing in Germany, Austria. and Italy was that the citizens in these countries were not sufficiently committed to preserving their democratic institutions to take risks to protect them. The National Socialists promised to restore the prosperity and pride that existed prior to World War I, and citizens in Germany relinquished their newly acquired democratic institutions in the hope that this promise would be fulfilled, as did Austrians and Italians. Russians cannot be blamed for not defending democracy, because it did not exist at the revolution. Yet even the Russians might have known from history that dictatorships seldom place the interests of common citizens above those of the dictator and elite keeping him in power. Thus, a lesson from the twentieth century is certainly that political belief systems – like Fascism and Communism – can destroy democratic institutions and lower social welfare just as easily as religious belief systems can. My reason for not focusing on political belief systems in this book is not because they are unimportant, but rather because their danger for democracy is so obvious and well known. Only a handful of deranged individuals could possibly believe today that Fascism and Communism are compatible with democracy or likely to improve welfare. On the other hand, many believe that the major universal religions – and presumably by implication – most of their less popular variants are compatible with liberal democracy and lead to improvements in community welfare. Thus, the need arises to show that this proposition is certainly not universally and perhaps never true.

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The Fascist period further demonstrates that religious people are not morally superior to irreligious people. Many Nazis had no difficulty being good Nazis and good Christians; many persons of the cloth threw their moral weight behind the war effort of the Fascist regimes; and the Vatican – symbol of the moral force of the Catholic Church – stood passively aside as millions were exterminated. This is not to say that no Christians behaved morally during the Fascist period. Zuccotti (2000) reports numerous instances of Jews being saved by the heroism of lower level Catholic clergy and laypersons. Whether these efforts arose because of the religious convictions of the actors or because of the natural tendency in some humans to have compassion for others is not clear, however. What is certain is that, during a period in which moral principles and moral courage were in most need, religion’s record in supplying this morality gets a very mixed score.

VII. Liberalism, Democracy, and Religion Following the French Revolution By 1920, almost all Western European countries and several Anglophile countries like Canada and the United States were democracies by the definition commonly used today, which includes universal suffrage. The great transformation to democracy took place despite the Catholic Church’s persistent opposition to it and other manifestations of modernism. Indeed, to the extent that religion played a role at all in this transformation, it was Protestantism, in countries like Germany, because it was anticlerical and opposed the reactionary stance of the Catholic Church.75 Yet this link between Protestantism and liberalism did not play an important role in the triumph of liberalism and democracy during the nineteenth century. If anything, religion tended to hinder the transformation. The apparent triumph of liberalism and democracy in Europe circa 1920 was to prove short lived. Within twenty years both vanished in Austria, Germany, Italy, and Spain, and the rest of Europe would have to curtail liberal freedoms and even suspend democracy in some cases, as in Great Britain, because of World War II. Thus, we have the irony that no European country qualified as a democracy in 1860 by today’s standard, and yet the next thirty years constituted a golden age for liberalism and progress in most countries, while the thirty years after 1920 were a dark nightmare. Democracy’s triumph in Europe did not bring with it the peace and prosperity usually claimed for this form of government. 75

Blackbourn (1998, p. 282).

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Was there a causal link between democracy’s rise and subsequent events in Europe? It would certainly be wrong to claim that the rise of democracy over the nineteenth century caused World Wars I or II, but it is equally wrong to dismiss any link between the two. The expansion of the franchise tremendously increased the number of poorly educated voters and paved the way for Populist parties on both the right and left. Would Fascist parties in Austria and Germany have been as successful if the voting franchise in 1930 had been the same as in 1870? I doubt it. The lesson from events in the first half of the twentieth century is not that voting should always be restricted to a small elite. These events show, however, that allowing everyone to vote does not guarantee good outcomes. The economic situation was particularly difficult in the late 1920s and 1930s in the defeated countries of World War I, in part because of the harsh settlements imposed by the victors. Most citizens had little experience with democracy and were easy prey to the demagoguery that so often is appealing in difficult times. The Great Depression also produced its share of successful demagogues in the United States such as Huey Long of Louisiana. The mass electorates in Austria and Germany were simply incapable of making the correct choices in the environment of the 1930s. The same is true today in many developing countries.

Epilogue to Part Two

Our brief look at the historical record has revealed that democracy has been quite rare over the course of human history. Indeed, by modern definitions of democracy it only came into existence at the start of the twentieth century. We do not adopt such a narrow definition of democracy and thus regard Ancient Athens, the Republics of Venice and the Netherlands, and the United States from the time of the country’s founding as all democracies of one form or another but with limited voting franchises. These early manifestations of democracy all had certain elements in common. Most importantly, perhaps, they might all be called secular. The Greeks had their myths and gods, of course; the Venetians were Catholics, the Dutch a mixture of Catholics and Protestants; the Americans mostly Puritans and other Protestant sects. Yet, in each case, religion does not appear to have had an important influence on the polity’s collective decision making. The Greeks trusted their own powers of reasoning when making collective decisions, not their gods; the Venetians held “nothing sacred, nothing holy” save for the state; the Dutch Republic was one of the most liberal and tolerant of all European states; and the Americans created a secular state by constitutional design. All of the democracies can in this respect also be termed modern as opposed to traditional. In contrast, the states that were despotisms of one sort or another were nearly all traditional societies, placing more faith in the wisdom of the past than in potential for progress based on knowledge acquired in the present. Some despotisms – Sumer, Egypt, China, the Caliphate – made important, even revolutionary advances in technology and the applied sciences, but the weight of traditionalism in their societies eventually snuffed out the kind of iconoclastic approach to the pursuit of knowledge that is necessary to sustain innovation and scientific progress. None of these societies placed 235

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enough trust in man’s ability to reason to even approach introducing some form of democracy. Trust in man’s ability to reason was, of course, a salient characteristic of the Greek city-state, and it reemerged during the Enlightenment. Thus, despite the Romantic reaction against the Enlightenment and the continued opposition of the Church, the Enlightenment reform agenda gradually was implemented over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, first in Europe and its colonial offshoots in America and the Far Pacific, and following World War II in fits and starts across the globe. For those who believe that a country cannot be a true democracy unless there is universal suffrage for all men and women in the country above a certain age, the history of Europe over the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth century presents somewhat of a challenge. Essentially no European country approached universal suffrage until the beginning of the twentieth century, and some did not obtain it until World War II. Yet for many countries, notably Britain, Germany, Austria, and Holland among others, the second half of the nineteenth century comes much closer to being a golden age of liberalism and economic and social progress than does the first half of the twentieth. For Germany and Austria, the extension of the voting franchise was arguably a contributing factor in liberal democracy’s succumbing to Fascist totalitarianism. With the end of World War II, and in particular, the collapse of Communism in 1989 and 1991, liberal democracy’s triumph would seem to be complete. The 1950s and 1960s constituted a golden age for essentially all of Europe’s democracies and their offshoots in America and elsewhere. Yet, as we saw in Chapter One, citizens in these countries do not seem to be ecstatic about the outcomes of democratic processes in their countries – quite to the contrary. Nor have the transplants of democratic institutions into South America, Asia, Africa, and most recently the Middle East led to the kinds of economic prosperity and political satisfaction that one might expect “the best possible system of government” to have produced. The remainder of this book discusses why this might be so. To understand why democracy might fail, we need to examine the conditions necessary for it to succeed. This examination requires that a deeper analysis of democratic institutions be undertaken than just whether or not elections are free and fair with broad voter franchises. This is the task of Part Three.

PART III

THE INSTITUTIONS OF LIBERAL DEMOCRACY

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During the contest of opinion through which we have passed, the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will, to be rightful, must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal laws must protect, and to violate which would be oppression. (Thomas Jefferson, Inauguration Address)1

Starting with the United States’ successful introduction of democracy at the end of the eighteenth century, democracy has spread throughout what is generally referred to as the West, and now can be found in one form or another on all continents save Antarctica. Today democracy is widely believed to be the best form of government, with even petty tyrants holding sham elections to justify their office. Their examples show, however, that democracy’s triumph has been incomplete. Even where tried, it has not always lasted or been seen as a success. The success of democracy depends on both what (whom) citizens vote for and how these votes are aggregated. To understand why this is so, we must go beyond simply thinking of democracy as a political system in which some people vote, and examine both their motives for voting and the institutions for aggregating these votes. To aid us in the latter, we introduce a bit of formal structure into the analysis. We begin with an essentially normative exercise. Under what conditions will democratic institutions accomplish the goal of advancing the interests of all members of the community? In the spirit of Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau, 1

Jefferson ([March 4, 1801]1944, pp. 321–2).

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we shall assume that individuals form the state to achieve this collective goal. Once we understand the conditions needed to achieve the goal, we can understand why it so often is not achieved.

I. Why Democracy? To improve citizens’ welfare, or increase their happiness in Enlightenment terms, the state must supply goods and services that citizens want and cannot achieve on their own. Three such public policies are the provision of public goods, alleviation of undesirable effects from externalities, and income and wealth redistribution to achieve specific normative goals. We discuss each in turn.

A. The Optimal Provision of a Public Good A public good, when supplied to one person, must (may) be supplied to others at zero (falling) marginal costs. For the purest public goods, the words must and zero are applicable. Defense against foreign invasion is an example. If some citizens are protected, all must be protected. The additional cost of protecting one more citizen is zero. The verb may applies to a public good like a bridge. Once built, it is possible (but not necessary) to let additional people cross the bridge at zero social cost. People can be excluded from the bridge. Once traffic reaches a level at which crowding occurs, an additional person imposes a cost on other users. On the margin, social costs may still be falling but are no longer zero.2 The characteristics of a public good – falling or zero marginal costs and the inability to exclude people from consuming it – often imply that no private firm or individual finds it profitable to supply the public good. Although all people in a city benefit from street lighting, no private firm supplies it because it could not find a way to charge people for the benefits. State provision of street lighting solves this market failure and can benefit all citizens. Because everyone must consume the same quantity of a public good, individuals receive fewer benefits from public goods in a community with heterogeneous preferences than they would, ceteris paribus, living in a community with homogeneous preferences. If a statue is to be erected in the town square, and one group of citizens favors a statue of Adam Smith and another group favors a statue of Karl Marx, one group of citizens must 2

For further discussion and references to the literature, see Mueller (2003, pp. 9–22).

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be worse off with the choice than if all had the same preferences. Obvious compromises – statues of both or no statue – leave all citizens worse off than they would be if all had the same preferences for a statue. Here is an important difference between public and private goods. With private goods, preference heterogeneity need not matter. Each consumer can choose the make and model of car she most prefers. With public goods, however, preference heterogeneity always leads to lower utility than when preferences are homogeneous. Thus, state provision of public goods can make all members of the community better off, but the more heterogeneous their preferences for public goods are the less they gain from their provision.

B. The Optimal Amount of a Private Good in the Presence of an Externality 1. Physical Externalities. A physical externality occurs when A’s action unintentionally changes B’s welfare. If B’s welfare improves, we have a positive externality; if it worsens, a negative externality. Flowers in window boxes are an example of a positive externality. The person planting the flowers does so presumably because he enjoys seeing them. Passersby also benefit from seeing the flowers, and so they create a positive externality. A market failure arises because people ignore the benefits to others from the flowers they plant, and thus too few flowers are planted. This market failure might be corrected by subsidizing the planting of flowers or by an ordinance requiring people to hang flower boxes from their windows. Positive externalities resemble public goods. A park is a good example of a public good. It is a place where the community provides flowers, trees, and shrubs that benefit all members. As with all public goods, activities creating positive externalities tend to be underprovided or not provided at all. When this market failure is corrected, everyone becomes better off. Everyone benefits from living in a community where people plant flowers in their window boxes, and do so taking into account the benefits to others. This characteristic of positive externalities makes them quite different from negative externalities. Here is an example of a negative externality. A stream runs through the ranches of both Alfred and Bernard. Alfred lives upstream from Bernard, and in dry years there is not enough water to satisfy both ranchers’ needs. Because Alfred has first crack at the water, he can satisfy his needs even in dry years. He does so, let us suppose, not to injure Bernard, but simply to benefit himself.

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Alfred’s water consumption imposes a negative externality on Bernard. Who should have a right to the water? In de facto states of anarchy, this question has often been answered through violent confrontations. Examples can be found in the American West of the nineteenth century, the dry bush lands of Australia, and the savannas of Africa. An important role of the state in all of these places has been to define and then enforce water rights. Although both are examples of market failures, there is a significant difference between positive and negative externalities. If the person planting flowers lives in total isolation, he and he alone benefits from them and there is no externality. If someone now moves next door, that person benefits from the flowers and the planter loses nothing. With positive externalities, bringing people together raises the welfare of some without harming anyone. This is not the case with negative externalities. With only one rancher, the stream can provide all of his needs. The appearance of a second rancher upstream must almost certainly make the first worse off, even when an optimal distribution of water can be found. One or both ranchers must be worse off if two share the water than if only one lived on the stream. Thus, when the actions of people cause negative externalities, bringing them together will make some or all worse off even when the consequences of the externalities are resolved efficiently. 2. Psychological Externalities. Arlene is a member of a religious sect that requires everyone to dress in black. Red in particular is regarded as the color of the devil. Arlene sees Betsy, who is not a member of the sect, dressed in red. Arlene is incensed. She has suffered a psychological externality. Although some people are vegetarians in the West for reasons of health or concern for animals, many Indians are vegetarians out of religious conviction. Indian vegetarians are often victims of a negative externality caused by their neighbors’ eating meat. Vinod Gupta, leader of Maharashtra Gopolan Samiti, a vegetarian movement in Mumbai, described his suffering in vivid terms: “Even the sight of someone eating meat is revolting. It’s not just a matter of principle, I have a sense of physical revulsion. I wonder how they can behave that way.” (Other Indians fear that a person eating meat can cause a physical externality by endangering others. As one Indian housewife put it, “A non-vegetarian person eats hot blood and it makes him hot-blooded; he might not keep control of his emotions.”)3 Psychological externalities have become increasing sources of conflict in recent years. As suggested by the quote from Vinod Gupta, the mental 3

Gentleman (2007).

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suffering of someone experiencing a psychological externality may be just as great or greater than a person experiences from a physical externality such as breathing the smoke from a nearby factory. Once again, the state may be needed to curb the negative effects from a psychological externality. Psychological externalities share with physical externalities the characteristic that one person’s action unintentionally changes the welfare of another, but they also differ in one important respect. With a physical externality, the loss to the injured party can be easily recognized and more or less objectively measured. It is obvious that a ranch in a dry area needs water, and the cost of not having it can be calculated. However, how does one measure Arlene’s suffering when she sees a woman dressed in red or Vinod Gupta’s when he thinks of someone eating meat? Psychological externalities are problematic in a liberal democratic society for two reasons. First, they are unbounded with respect to number and intensity. Arlene suffers when seeing women in red, Vinod Gupta when thinking about people eating meat, Cathy when thinking about fetuses being aborted, David when he sees two men kissing on a street corner. The list is seemingly endless, and the question of how to deal with these sorts of psychological externalities is most difficult. The important point to note is that psychological externalities are likely to be much greater in number and more troublesome to resolve in heterogeneous communities. Arlene would not suffer if everyone was a member of her religion and wore black. Vinod Gupta’s suffering would cease if everyone in his community was a vegetarian. Psychological externalities most often arise when cultural or religious practices and beliefs clash. Such clashes are more likely in heterogeneous communities. The second difficulty with psychological externalities arises because their severity depends not only on the action causing the externality, but also on how the other person reacts. This is generally not the case with physical externalities. The downstream rancher can do nothing to replenish water taken by the upstream rancher. Arlene could, however, simply avert her eyes and not look at Betsy’s red dress, or shrug her shoulders and say a prayer for Betsy’s salvation. Arlene is not compelled to go into a rage, and whether or not she does depends as much on her psychological makeup as on what Betsy chooses to wear.

C. Redistribution We think of the state as existing to improve the welfare of all citizens. Redistribution is a major activity of the state that seems to benefit one group

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at the expense of another. However, there are two categories of redistribution that benefit both the givers and the receivers – and thus I refer to them as redistribution as giving. We begin by discussing these and then return to the more conventional kind of redistribution – redistribution as taking. 1. Redistribution as Altruism. It is common to feel empathy with someone in trouble. Such feelings are in part genetically ingrained and served in our tribal past to maintain loyalty. We are hardwired to act altruistically in certain situations.4 Such behavior can be modeled by assuming a rich person obtains utility, not only from her own private goods consumption, but also from the private goods consumption of a poor person. Giving money to the poor person makes the rich person better off. If all rich people are altruistic in this way, collective decisions to redistribute income from the rich to the poor can be unanimous.5 2. Redistribution as Insurance. All insurance involves ex post redistribution. Auto insurance redistributes income from safe or lucky drivers to unsafe and unlucky drivers; health insurance from the healthy to the sick; unemployment insurance from the employed to the unemployed. People enter into many insurance contracts voluntarily, and these are thus forms of unanimous agreements to engage in redistribution. They increase the utility of all parties by reducing ex ante risks. Some forms of state-provided insurance, like unemployment insurance, might also receive unanimous support if all persons were uncertain about the possibility of losing their jobs.6 3. Redistribution as Taking. Both forms of redistribution as giving transfer money from the fortunate to the unfortunate – from rich to poor, from employed to unemployed. Many forms of public-sector redistribution do not have this characteristic, however, and thus cannot be rationalized by either of these normative theories. The largest item in the European Union’s budget today, as it has always been, is subsidies to agriculture, even though European farmers on average have higher incomes than the average taxpayer. Moreover, the preponderance of the subsidies go to the richest farmers. Nor can one rationalize these subsidies as a kind of insurance – becoming a 4 5 6

Trivers (1971), Pinker (1997, pp. 404–6, 505–7), Rubin (2002, ch. 3). Redistribution of this kind was first modeled by Hochman and Rodgers (1969). See discussion in Mueller (2003, pp. 47–9). See discussion in Mueller (2003, pp. 45–7).

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farmer is not an accident caused by fate, but the conscious choice of an individual. Although state pensions often are categorized as insurance, they too cannot be justified by either normative theory of redistribution. At a single point in time, redistribution is from the working to the nonworking, not from rich to poor. Many contributors to pension funds are poorer than some recipients of these transfers. Over people’s life cycles, transfers go from those who die young to those who live long – from the unlucky to the lucky. Not what one expects from an insurance scheme. Growing old is a predictable event. It happens to us all – if we are lucky. The average worker has some forty years to prepare for the shock of growing old and retiring. Retirees and farmers are particularly successful in getting money from the state, but they are not alone. Much redistribution occurs not for altruistic or insurance reasons, but simply for old-fashioned selfish reasons. One group succeeds in getting the state to make it better off at some other group’s expense. 4. Redistribution and Heterogeneity. The adage “charity begins at home” is highly descriptive. People are more willing to give money to a close relative than to a distant one; more willing to give to a relative than to someone who is not related; more willing to give to a neighbor than to a stranger; to a member of their own ethnic group than to other ethnic groups. This hierarchy of giving is not surprising given the genetic roots of altruistic behavior. I give to my tribe members, because I expect them to help me when I am in need. The more similar a person is to me, the more likely I am to think of him unconsciously as of part of my tribe. Dryzek and Goodin (1986) have linked the creation of the welfare state in Britain after World War II to the sense of solidarity among Britons that the war created. Being under common attack kindled the kind of loyalty “to one’s tribe” that fosters a willingness to engage in redistribution. These considerations lead us to expect more redistribution for altruistic and insurance reasons in homogeneous rather than in heterogeneous communities. It is easier to put oneself in the other fellow’s shoes the more similar he is. Martin Gilens (1999) has argued that Americans (a majority of which who are white) “hate welfare,” because they believe that it largely goes to blacks. Alesina, Glaeser, and Sacerdote (2001) offer a similar explanation for the absence of a European-style welfare state in the United States.7 Ethnic, 7

For additional evidence that heterogeneity leads to less altruistic redistribution, see Lind (2007).

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religious, or linguistic heterogeneity may not only reduce redistribution as giving, but also increase redistribution as taking as one group exploits a numerical majority to transfer income and wealth from another.

II. Revealing Preferences To provide the optimal amount of a public good or redistribution, citizens’ preferences must be known. Democracy’s major advantage should come through revealing citizens’ preferences. If the state limited itself to making all citizens better off – providing public goods, redistributing wealth to benefit both givers and recipients – in principle the unanimity rule could be used to reveal preferences. All public goods and redistribution would be to everyone’s benefit. Therefore, those who believe that the state ought to confine itself to activities that benefit all have generally advocated the unanimity rule.8 The usual argument against the unanimity rule is that it takes too long to reach a decision. When choosing a voting rule, however, one must consider more than just the time needed to make a decision. If time were the only factor to consider, dictatorship would be the optimal form of government. As Buchanan and Tullock (1962, pp. 63–9) first argued, one must also take into account the external costs of collective decision-making – the cost imposed on an individual when the community makes a decision that lowers her welfare. The optimal voting rule should minimize the sum of these two costs.9 Much of Buchanan and Tullock’s The Calculus of Consent is devoted to showing that the simple majority rule is not always or even often likely to be the optimal voting rule (see again footnote 9). Several justifications for the use of the simple majority rule have been given. We examine two.

A. The Condorcet Jury Theorem Our first demonstration of the attractiveness of the simple majority rule – indeed of democracy itself – is due appropriately enough to the great Enlightenment figure the Marquis de Condorcet. The theorem assumes that a community must make a binary choice – did John rob the bank or not? All members of the community have the same goal, which is to find John guilty if he robbed the bank, innocent if he did not. The probability that any one citizen’s judgment is correct is p, 0.5 < p < 1. The Jury Theorem 8 9

See Wicksell ([1896]1967) and Buchanan and Tullock (1962). See Buchanan and Tullock (1962, pp. 63–91) and Mueller (2003, pp. 74–8).

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states that if John’s guilt is decided using the simple majority rule, then the probability that the correct judgment is made approaches one as the community’s size grows.10 The theorem is obviously a defense of the simple majority rule, but can also be thought of more generally as a defense of two-party majoritarian democracy. Under this interpretation, each of the theorem’s assumptions becomes crucial. The community must choose a party to run the state. All in the community share the same goal – to pick the party most capable of running the state. This assumption implies a consensus over what the state should be doing – controlling crime, building roads, maintaining full employment. All that is at issue is the relative competence of the two parties in achieving these common goals. Citizens are conscientious enough to gather information so that they raise the probability of making a correct judgment to more than 0.5 – they do not simply vote by flipping coins. In a large electorate, this assumption implies a sense of civic duty among the citizenry. Because the probability of any one person’s vote affecting the outcome is near zero with a large electorate, rational, self-interested voters should not bother to become informed or even to vote. If they do, then their sense of obligation or loyalty to the community must be sufficiently strong to overcome the incentive not to participate. The assumptions underlying the Jury Theorem are more likely to be met in a small, homogeneous community than in a large, heterogeneous one. A homogeneous community is more likely to agree on what the state should do. The key issue is to determine which party is more capable at running the government. Similarly, the sense of identification will be stronger in a homogeneous community, and citizens’ subconscious tribal loyalties are more likely to be transferred to the civic community and lead them to active political participation.

B. Rae’s Theorem Condorcet’s Jury Theorem posits a consensus among citizens about the goal of politics – to make the correct decision about guilt or innocence, to select the party most competent for governing – but uncertainty about which choice will meet this goal. The simple majority rule serves as a sampling mechanism for obtaining the correct answer. Buchanan and Tullock also assumed that a consensus was possible, because a collective decision was being made that could make everyone better off. Douglas Rae (1969) 10

See Young (1997) and Mueller (2003, pp. 128–33).

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presented an argument for the simple majority rule that sees political choices in quite a different light. For Rae, politics is a clash of interests, a resolution of conflict issues. Consensus is never possible.11 A community is writing a constitution, and it is assumed to be uncertain about the issues that will come up in the future and the likely positions of its members on these issues. Rae assumes, as did Condorcet, that all future collective decisions will be binary choices.12 To crystallize our thinking, assume that there will be two types of individuals in the future, the Blues and the Purples. All Blues have identical preferences as do all Purples, but the preferences of the two groups differ. One type of future collective decision is whether to ban an action by one group, say the Blues, which causes an externality that harms the Purples. At the constitutional stage, all individuals can envisage the utility gain (µ) to a Blue from undertaking the action and the loss (ε) to a Purple from the externality. All individuals are uncertain, however, over whether they will be Blues or Purples and over the future numbers of Blues and Purples. At the constitutional stage, each individual would like to choose a voting rule for deciding this issue that maximizes her expected utility. E (U ) = n B µ − n P ε

(10.1)

where nB and nP are the numbers of Blues and Purples in the future. A ban of the action by the Blues will be optimal if the expected utility in Equation 10.1 is negative. This condition is equivalent to n B /n P < e/µ

(10.2)

Inequality 10.2 can be used to determine the optimal voting rule because ε and µ are assumed to be known. If ε, the loss to the Purples from Blues’ action, were, for example, one half of µ, then a ban of the action would be optimal only if at least two-thirds of the voters supported the ban. A two-thirds’ majority rule is the optimal voting rule for determining the ban. For the simple majority rule to be the optimal voting rule, ε = µ, the loss to a Purple from a Blue’s action must equal the gain to a Blue.13 Thus, 11 12

13

The proof of the theorem that I sketch is somewhat different from Taylor’s (1969), but contains the same basic elements. See Mueller (2001, 2003, ch. 26) for a formal proof. The assumption of binary choices is popular among proponents of the simple majority rule, because it allows them to present a normative case for the use of this voting rule without having to address the issue of what happens when there is a voting cycle, which is quite likely with three or more choices. The importance of assuming equal intensities on both sides of an issue has also been noted by Kendall (1941, p. 117) and Buchanan and Tullock (1962, pp. 128–30). Rae (1969,

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if the simple majority rule is used to ban smoking in public places, one has implicitly assumed that the loss to a smoker from the ban equals the gain to a nonsmoker. Although a smoking ban might reasonably satisfy the equal intensity condition, many collective decisions are unlikely to do so. In particular, redistribution decisions motivated by altruism or insurance should never satisfy the condition. The implicit assumption behind these decisions is that the utility loss to a rich or employed person from a euro transfer is much less than the utility gain to the poor or unemployed person. If the loss to the giver equals the gain to the recipient, why make the transfer? If the Blues and Purples were ethnic or religious groups whose identities never changed, the assumption of uncertainty over future position at the constitutional stage would be implausible. A Blue would know she is a Blue. She will always be a Blue and her children will be Blues. Uncertainty over future position thus requires that the composition of the two groups changes over time. On one issue, a person is the one wishing to undertake a particular action; on another, he is the person hurt by someone else’s action. Over time, one wins on some issues and loses on others. If in the long run the probability of being on the winning side equals the probability of being on the losing side – an assumption explicitly made by Rae (1969) – then this coupled with the equal intensity assumption implies zero net gains from collective decisions. Politics is a zero-sum game. Yet if it is, why play it? The assumptions involved in proving that the simple majority rule is the best rule for making collective choices in conflict situations undermine the case for making any collective choices in these situations.

III. Good Politics Requires Good Citizens Wicksell and Buchanan and Tullock assumed that the state confined itself to activities that make all citizens better off and thus favored the unanimity rule. Rae assumed that the state focused on conflict issues and favored the simple majority rule. In practice, of course, states do both and typically use the simple majority rule to decide both types of issues. It is worth keeping in mind that much of what states do does resemble the issues for which unanimous agreement could (nearly) be reached. If referendums were held today in the United States and France over whether to stop providing police protection or unemployment insurance, vast majorities would vote to keep p. 41, n. 6) also makes it. It is implicit in May’s (1952) theorem, because a normative justification of his anonymity and neutrality axioms requires that one assume equal intensities on both sides of the issue to be decided. See discussion in Mueller (2003, pp. 133–6).

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these programs. Let us assume, for the moment, that all state activities are of this type. Much of the public choice literature assumes that individuals vote according to their narrowly defined self-interest. Individual A votes for Party X only if she expects to be materially better off if X runs the government. Considerable survey evidence, however, suggests that this is not the way most citizens vote. Voters tend to reward parties that achieve good macroeconomic results like low inflation and unemployment, and punish them if they do not. Several studies report evidence that voters’ decisions are not driven by whether they personally suffered from inflation or unemployment during a party’s reign, but rather out of concern about the welfare of the country.14 Still others have found that a citizen’s own experience and a general concern for the country’s welfare influenced how she voted.15 To the extent that citizens vote in this sociotropic way, they behave as assumed under the Condorcet Jury Theorem, and majoritarian democracy can be expected to produce policies that advance the interests of all citizens. The Jury Theorem assumes not only that citizens share a common goal for the state, but also that they become informed about the issue to be decided or about the parties in an electoral contest. Voters choose parties not policies, but their choices still must reflect an understanding of the policies or voters will not choose the right parties. We live in a complex age. How serious is the threat of global warming? What should be done about it? Does U.S. support for Israel help the war on terrorism or produce more terrorists? Answers to these questions are not easy even for experts; they seem very demanding for the average citizen on the street. What the Jury Theorem requires, however, is not that every citizen be capable of giving correct answers to each question, but that she is intelligent and informed enough to know which party is more likely to have the better answers. This too requires effort to become informed, but it is not beyond the capacity of most citizens in the rich democracies. Thus, the Condorcet Jury Theorem can be interpreted as implying that majoritarian democracy is capable of advancing the welfare of all citizens, if there is a substantial consensus among them over the ends of the state, and if they are sufficiently well-educated and well-motivated to discharge their duties as citizens intelligently. 14 15

Kinder and Kiewiet (1979, 1981), Hibbing (1987), Lewis-Beck (1988), and Markus (1988). See Fiorina (1978, 1981), Kiewiet (1981, 1983), and Kirchg¨assner (1985). For a dissenting view, see Kramer (1983). Fiorina (1997, pp. 407–9) reviews the evidence.

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IV. Bad Politics We conclude that majoritarian democracy could advance the interests of all citizens if the state confined itself to activities that benefit all citizens. However, states do not do this because citizens demand more from them. They demand actions that advance the interests of small subsets of the population. An interest group’s interests are by definition always special. If a group’s interests were not particular to itself, it would not need to organize to get the state to satisfy them. All general interests will be satisfied by the state as part of its general mandate. Special interests will only be satisfied if a group provides a party sufficient additional votes or money to win an election. Thus, instead of parties competing with programs that advance the interests of all citizens, they compete by making offers to interest groups. Over the last half century, a vast array of interest groups has appeared in all developed democracies. Fifty years ago the main interest groups represented economic interests – labor unions, and business and professional associations – and voters were mainly concerned about economic security and prosperity. The rise of postmaterial values has added a plethora of new issues to the political agenda, and the passage of time has allowed individuals to form pressure groups to lobby for their particular causes.16 Today, we have interest groups for environmental issues, animal rights, children’s rights, gay rights, women’s rights, right-to-lifers and right-to-choosers, immigrant rights, pensioners, religious groups, and ethnic minorities to mention but a few. When the state meets one group’s demands, it generally harms others. If places at universities are reserved for blacks, whites and other ethnic groups are denied these spaces. When right-to-lifers win, those defending a woman’s right to choose lose. The end result is that many people feel that the state is not satisfying their needs. Former New Jersey Senator Bill Bradley has described the problem nicely. They [interest groups] seek to convince us not that some of our interests and opinions are in conflict, nor that some of our ideals require compromise, but simply that we are not getting what we want from government because government itself is corrupt, dishonest, out of control, controlled by corporate interests, controlled by those dependent on ‘the welfare state,’ dominated by liberals, or dominated by conservatives. They don’t help us think of ourselves as citizens who are part of a democratic dialogue, or to think of government as something of which we’re a part and have power to change. Most certainly they don’t encourage us to think of ourselves as citizens who think of the general interest . . . In the end, our democracy is losing its most essential ingredient: the willingness of citizens to accept the results 16

Dalton (2000).

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of the process itself, especially if they are not complete winners. (Bradley, 1999, p. xix)17

It is striking that Bradley identifies the exact same problem that concerned Rousseau. Let us suppose now a state in which the social bond has begun to ware thin. It has, we assume, entered upon its decline; particular interests have begun to make themselves felt in it, and narrower associations to affect decisions of the wider group. The common interest, in such a state, is clouded over, and encounters opposition; votes cease to be unanimous; the general will is no longer the will of everybody.18

The subversion of the public interest to special interests is a direct consequence of both interest groups’ strength and diversity, and the use of the simple majority rule to make collective decisions. The Jury Theorem tells us that the majority rule yields desirable outcomes if all voters share the same goal. Yet interest groups do not have shared goals. Each has its own narrow goal. When one gets what it wants, the rest of the country loses. Interest groups’ importance in the United States is accentuated by its system of geographic representation combined with weak party loyalty and discipline. Each member of Congress is responsible for his or her own reelection campaign. Limits on how much money a candidate can raise from any one person or interest group force candidates to court large numbers of interest groups. An indication of this activity’s importance is the large number of earmarks attached to legislation. An earmark is a provision to finance a special project in a congressional district or state. A recent earmark was a federal grant of $300,000 to renovate the Buffalo Theater in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Did all Americans benefit from this renovation, a majority, even 1 percent? Earmarks represent a large and growing portion of the U.S. federal budget. In 2005, there were 16,072 earmarks totaling more than $52 billion, up from 4,203 earmarks in 1994, which cost American taxpayers only a bit more than $27 billion. Energy and Water Development Appropriations alone contained 2,313 earmarks in 2005, which constituted 17.3 percent of the total appropriations.19 In addition to drafting legislation favorable to particular interest groups and local constituencies, members of Congress devote a great deal of time to ombudsman services – intervening with a government agency on behalf 17 18 19

As quoted in Dalton (2004, p. 196), emphasis in the original. Rousseau ([1762] 1954, p. 164), emphasis in original. Figures are from the Congressional Research Service dated January 26, 2006, http://www. fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/m012606.pdf.

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of a constituent. The result is that “Congress [has become] composed of professional officeholders oblivious to the changing political sentiments of the country.”20 The fact that members of Congress neglect the national interest while catering to special interests and the wants of their constituents explains why voters in a given district think that their representative does a good job while holding the entire Congress in very low esteem. If interest groups are strong in the United States, they are even stronger in Europe. To buy legislation in the United States, an interest group must buy the votes of at least 218 members of the House, 51 senators and, if it does not want the president to veto the legislation, it had better give something to his campaign. In most Continental European countries, an interest group must buy the votes of only two or three parties to succeed. Although the vote of a member of Congress is certainly cheaper than the votes of a party in Europe, total outlays in the United States must exceed what is needed in Europe. Because Europeans vote for parties while Americans vote for persons, European interest groups have an additional advantage. Members of Congress die, retire, and even on occasion get defeated. When one leaves Congress, an interest group’s past investments are wiped out, and it must start anew trying to buy the vote of a replacement. European parties seldom die. While a loss of seats in an election is often treated as a defeat, most parties live on and may still join a coalition to form the government. Once an interest group has established a relationship to a party, it can maintain it indefinitely. In the United States, Western Europe, and the other developed democracies, the outcomes of the democratic process become corrupted as groups use the political process to advance their common interests at the expense of the rest of the community. In other countries, democracy may be undermined by factions based on blood ties. Kathleen Collins (2006, pp. 175–92) recounts the interesting case of Kyrgyzstan, whose promising transition to democracy at the beginning of the 1990s was undermined by powerful clans: “A clan is an informal organization comprising a network of individuals linked by kin and fictive kin identities.”21 Where state and market institutions function poorly, as was the case in Kyrgyzstan under Soviet colonization, clan leaders can fill the gap by settling contract and other sorts of disputes, obtaining loans for members, helping members get jobs, and the like. The creation of a democratic state in Kyrgyzstan opened the door for the clans to use the state to benefit their members. Patronage, clientelism, 20 21

Fiorina (1977, p. 14), emphasis in original. Collins (2006, p. 17).

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nepotism, and outright corruption followed, and Kyrgyzstan’s fledgling democracy suffered the consequences.22 Even in an advanced democracy like Italy, clanlike relationships – particularly in the south – have led to a similar pattern of patronage, clientelism, nepotism, and corruption.23 Many golden ages of democracies followed an event that focused collective decisions on policies that benefit all of the community. Cleisthenes’ constitution was such an event in Athens. The Glorious Revolution had a similar effect in Great Britain. Prior to the revolution, local interests dominated British politics, which was focused heavily on rent seeking. The revolution strengthened Parliament’s powers, thereby centralizing political control in London.24 . . . in the medium run, centralization led to the shift in rent-seeking activities from a fragmented but highly local provincial structure to a national system in which local patronage operated through members of Parliament (MPs). In the long run, this very same system allowed for a shift from locally directed patronage to distributional struggles that were more broadly focused on national concerns. In other words, the long-term institutional transformation of Britain between the Glorious Revolution and the 1867 Reform Act went through distinct stages. First a change of locus occurred, then, as a new ideology took root and a new power structure emerged, rent-seeking itself was put on the defensive. (Mokyr and Nye, 2007, p. 61)25

The shift during the eighteenth century from narrowly focused, geographically defined rent seeking to policies benefiting all of Britain was greatly influenced by Enlightenment ideas and in particular by the Scottish Enlightenment. Thus, over the course of the eighteenth century, mercantilism in Britain gave way to open markets and free trade.26 Following World War II, Europe needed rebuilding, and the United States and Canada had suffered economic shortages because of the Great Depression and the war. Europeans were happy to get on with rebuilding their countries and North Americans with enjoying a great consumption boom. The postwar economic recovery brought a kind of economic golden age, and governments in America and Europe were given credit for the prosperity. In 1958, nearly 70 percent of Americans believed that they could 22 23 24 25 26

Collins (2006, pp. 224–50). Chubb (1982, 1989), Putnam (1993), and Collins (2006, pp. 320–9). North and Weingast (1989). Mokyr and Nye (2007, p. 61). The 1867 Reform Act introduced universal suffrage for adult male citizens in Britain. Mokyr and Nye (2007, pp. 63–9).

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trust their government to do right. By 1980, the figure had fallen to 25 percent. Although it recovered some after 1980, it remained around or less than 40 percent until September 11, 2001. Following the 9/11 attacks, Americans’ trust in government surged. This support soon waned, however, and fell back to pre-9/11 levels already during the Bush administration.27 As observed in Chapter One, similar, if not as dramatic, declines have occurred in other Western democracies.28 Although there seems to be no single cause for this development, the corrosive effects of zero-sum, interest-group politics appear to be an important part of the explanation.29 Newton and Norris (2000, pp. 55–8), for example, report relatively modest declines in citizens’ confidence in the police and no declines in support for educational institutions – two government activities that fit the definition of a public good. Dramatic declines in confidence in parliaments have occurred, presumably because citizens hold them responsible for all of the other things governments do that do not benefit all citizens. In this regard, the surge in confidence in government in the United States following the 9/11 attacks is telling. For a while, Americans perceived that their government was doing something that benefited them all – hunting terrorists. One can liken the life cycle of a country following events like the Great Depression and World War II to that of a young couple. After they fall in love, they must make major decisions – to marry or not, to live near where he works or where she works, to have children, how many? After twenty-five years – if they are still living together – the decisions they face have changed – to go to the movies tonight, what to eat for supper, is it time to trade in the SUV? Following World War II, roads and schools needed to be rebuilt in Europe and built anew in America to adjust to both the great migration into the cities and the increasing mobility of Americans in the age of automobiles. Governments on both sides of the Atlantic responded to these demands. Once interstate highway systems and schools have been built, however, they only need to be maintained. If a broad consensus exists about the characteristics and levels of spending needed to maintain roads, schools, police forces, and other public goods, good government reduces to simply meeting these maintenance needs – not terribly exciting stuff. In a well-run, mature democracy, when the opposition asks what has the government done 27 28 29

Dalton (2004, pp. 25–6). The Netherlands appears to be an exception. See Putnam, Pharr, and Dalton (2000) and Dalton (2004, pp. 27–31). Dalton (2004, ch. 9) and Zakaria (2003, ch. 5).

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in the last four years, an election-winning answer should be – not much, because things were going so well, little had to be done. And the opposition, if willing to admit it, should acknowledge that they would not have done much differently. Such an electoral debate is unlikely to spur many citizens to vote, however. Thus, once the important things that everyone agrees should be done in a country have been done, majoritarian politics turns to issues over which there is no consensus, but about which some groups feel very strongly because it is these issues that can get people to vote for and contribute to political parties.30 Surveys in the United States indicate that citizens trust their local governments more than their state governments and their state governments more than the national government.31 These differences probably reflect the greater homogeneity of local communities, which makes it easier for them to match their policies to voter preferences. Local communities also focus on things like education, police and fire protection, and other public goods that all citizens want, while avoiding the kinds of divisive issues that often dominate national politics. The lack of trust and support for the European Union among European citizens parallels the survey findings for the United States. We have stressed the importance of group loyalty. When it is directed toward one’s political community (as it was in Britain during and immediately after World War II), it can reinforce the political bonds that unite citizens and strengthen a community’s democratic institutions. Many participants in the anti-Vietnam War movement and student protests of the 1960s experienced a similar, if less intense, bonding with their fellow protestors. The same can be said of participants in the civil rights marches of the 1960s, and is probably true to some extent for most interest groups that require active participation by their members. When, however, the cause of the interest group is narrow and conflicts with the preferences of a large part of the community, feelings of group solidarity sparked by an interest group’s 30

31

See Alesina and Wacziarg (2000). Mancur Olson (1982) argued that the better economic performance of the losers in World War II, Germany, Italy, and Japan, compared to the winners, the United States and Great Britain, was a result of the war’s having destroyed interest groups in the losing countries, whereas in the United States and Great Britain they remained strong and engaged in growth-inhibiting rent seeking. An Olsonian explanation for the reversal of growth performances over the last thirty years would be that interest groups have recovered their strengths in Germany, Italy, and Japan, while the Reagan and Thatcher revolutions greatly weakened interest groups in the United States and Great Britain. Olson focused on economic interest groups, like trade associations and labor unions. My arguments apply to all forms of interest groups. Matsusaka (2004, ch. 4).

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activities can undermine the political bonds that do or should unite all citizens. This seems to have happened in nearly all Western democracies over the past few decades. Thus, the potential costs in a democracy of a heterogeneous population appear again. Ethnically defined interest groups will not form in a country of homogeneous ethnicity; religious interest groups will not form where there is only one religion. Most strident clashes in recent years – over abortion, gay rights, euthanasia, stem cell research – have religious origins or overtones. Almost any difference between people can become a reason to form an interest group and a source of conflict if people choose to make it one. The competitive democratic process gives politicians in search of votes an incentive to seek out and cater to these diverse interests.

V. Democratic Failure Successful democratic government requires an educated and informed electorate capable of choosing the best parties and persons to run the government. For many developing countries, it is this condition that prevents them from becoming successful democracies. Someone who cannot read and write is likely to have difficulty learning about and understanding the proposals of competing parties and candidates. Populist proposals to increase spending and cut taxes are more likely to win votes if the electorate lacks the education to understand that these policies are a road to economic disaster. Table 10.1 presents the rankings of the World Audit according to the quality of a country’s democratic institutions. The rankings are based on ratings of political rights, civil liberties, press freedom, rule of law, corruption, and human rights. What we would like as a measure of the quality of democratic institutions is, of course, an index of how well a country does advancing its citizens’ welfare, but this is more difficult to measure so we use these other characteristics as a proxy. Part A of the table lists the twenty countries with the highest democracy rankings. All but one is in Europe or is a highly developed, former British colony. The exception is Chile. The two right-hand-side columns list the fraction of the female population that is illiterate and of the university-age female population attending university. Figures for males present a similar picture. The first thing to note is that the United Nations does not even report illiteracy figures for nineteen of the twenty best democracies because they are so small. Only Chile’s illiteracy rate is reported. It is 4 percent,

Table 10.1. Democracy, illiteracy, and university education Ranka

Country

Women’s illiteracyb

Women’s university enrollmentc

Part A. Twenty countries with highest democracy rankings 1 Finland 2 Denmark 3 New Zealand 4 Sweden 5 Switzerland 6 Norway 7 Netherlands 8 Australia 9 UK 10 Canada 11 Austria 11 Germany 13 Belgium 14 Ireland 14 USA 16 France 17 Portugal 18 Chile 4.4 19 Spain 20 Estonia

65 56 94 60 62 41 64 80

Average

0.2

70

18.5 8.6 2.1 17.2 88.1 22.9 74.5 13.5 2.9 9.5 2.5 19.7 71.5

4 24 9 7

Part B. Twenty countries ranked 41–60 41 Botswana 42 Jamaica 43 Trinidad & Tobago 43 Namibia 45 Mali 46 El Salvador 47 Benin 48 Brazil 48 Croatia 50 Thailand 51 Mongolia 51 Peru 51 Senegal 54 Papua New Guinea 55 Mexico 56 Lesotho 56 Dominican Republic 58 India 59 Philippines 59 Bolivia Averages a b c

11.3 9.7 12.7 7.3 19.3 18.5

95 73 90 93 39 90 59 82 70 66 53

18 1 21 39 38 44 31

21 3 9 35 20

World Audit; http://www.worldaudit.org/. Years 2000–4, adults 15 and older as a percent of population; http:// unstats.un.org/. Women enrolled at university as a percent of university-age population; http://unstats.un.org/.

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small compared to countries lower down in the rankings. The average university attendance for women in the best democracies was 70 percent of the university-age population with only Chile and Switzerland having figures less than 50 percent. Part B of the table lists the twenty countries ranked forty-one to sixty. I have dropped down this far to be certain that we are looking at weaker democracies than in Part A. I have not gone any lower because it becomes more questionable as one moves down in the World Audit’s rankings to claim that a country is a democracy. All countries in Part B hold regular, reasonably fair elections and are likely to be considered democracies by both their own citizens and outside observers. Only one of the twenty is in Europe, former Communist Croatia. The mean illiteracy rate for women in countries for which the UN publishes figures is 18.5 percent; three African countries (Benin, Nambia, and Senegal) have rates more than 70 percent. Female university attendance also varies greatly, ranging from a high of 44 percent for Mongolia to a low of 3 percent for Lesotho. On average, only 20 percent of the university-age population attends college in these lower-ranked democratic countries. India has been a democracy for sixty years. Until very recently, it has had limited success improving its population’s welfare, and even recent economic growth has benefited only a small fraction of the population. Voter participation rates have risen steadily since its independence, and so by this criterion India has been becoming more and more democratic.32 As voter participation levels have risen, however, the average education of Indian voters has fallen, with the result that India “has become less tolerant, less secular, less law-abiding, less liberal.”33 Greater participation of lower educated classes has led to the rise of the fundamentalist Hindu Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which has successfully exploited Hindu–Muslim tensions for political gain. When it controlled the local government in Gujarat in 2005, it “allowed and even assisted in the massacre of thousands of innocent Muslim men, women, and children and the ethnic cleansing of tens of thousands from their neighbors and towns. . . . Most troubling, all evidence suggests that it has helped the BJP with its Hindu base.”34 India was a much better run and more liberal country during the early years of its democracy when voter turnouts were low than it is today with greater political participation. 32 33 34

Vanhanen (1997, pp. 202, 252). Zakaria (2003, p. 106). Zakaria (2003, p. 109).

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Before Robert Mugabe decided to destroy the Zimbabwean economy, a survey was conducted to discover what Zimbabweans wanted in their new constitution. One question frequently raised concerned the political status of witch doctors under the new constitution. Sixty percent of the Benin population believes in voodoo. John Togb´e, a teacher, explained why he believed in voodoo: “Voodoo is everything to me, it helps me get whatever I want. If I have a problem I go to the voodoo chief, who makes sacrifices for me, and afterwards my problem is resolved. For example, my wife and I couldn’t have children for many years. I asked the spirits for a child, and three years later my child was born.” Christians in Benin go to church on Sunday, but visit the voodoo priests and priestesses the rest of the week, according to Na Honoun, a voodoo priestess.35 Citizens in Europe, the United States, Australia, and other developed democracies also have superstitions and erroneous beliefs, of course. Nevertheless, the gap between them and citizens in Zimbabwe, Benin, and most other African countries seems enormous. To assume that their citizens would make wise democratic choices if given a chance, which many have not been given, seems highly optimistic. Proof of literacy has often been used as a qualification for voting. The trend, however, has been to drop such tests. Literacy is not a requirement for voting in Bolivia, Ecuador, and Peru, where illiteracy rates are respectively, 19.3, 10.3, and 19.7 percent of the population. Moreover, each of these countries has compulsory voting with the penalties for not voting in Bolivia and Peru being quite severe. Thus, these countries not only allow illiterates to vote, they compel them to do so. It is difficult to see how this policy is likely to improve the quality of the democratic process; nor do the experiences with democracy in the three countries suggest that they have. All three have been military dictatorships at one time or another, and more often than not during their interludes of democratic rule have been led by presidents who have either had dictatorial tendencies or been incompetent or both. In none of the three can one say that democracy has led to great improvements in the welfare of the citizens. The same can be said more or less for the rest of Central and South America, and here too we generally find high illiteracy and low education rates. The average female illiteracy rate for the sixteen Central and South American countries for which the UN Social Indicators reports figures is 35

See Economist, January 28, 2006.

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12.6 percent.36 In contrast, the three Central and South American countries placing in the top thirty democracies in the World Audit – Chile (ranked eighteenth), Uruguay (twenty-third) and Costa Rica (twenty-seventh) – had female illiteracy rates of 4.4, 1.9, and 4.1 percent, respectively. Coincidence, perhaps, but the burden of proof should fall on those who believe that there is no correlation between the quality of inputs into the democratic process and the quality of outputs. In an important study, Przeworski, Alvarez, Cheibub, and Limongi (2000, hereafter PACL) investigated the relationship between democracy and development over the period 1950–90. They found that the probability that a democracy would be replaced by a dictatorship in any year was inversely related to a country’s income per capita and level of education. Presidential systems were more likely to give way to autocracy and religious heterogeneity combined with a presidential system significantly increased the probability of a democracy becoming an autocracy.37 Table 10.2 lists the countries with a period of democracy of five years or less, which changed from democracy to dictatorship between 1950 and 1990. Following the starting and ending dates for each spell of democracy appear PACL’s regime classifications. Mixed is a combination presidential and parliamentary system. It is readily apparent that most short-lived democracies were relatively poor. With few exceptions, they also had quite low adult literacy rates (defined for citizens ages fifteen and older). As late as the 1980s, only four of the twenty-one countries had literacy rates of 90 percent or more. Only Argentina probably had a literacy rate of 90 percent or more during its four short periods of democratic government between 1950 and 1970. In Ghana, Nigeria, Pakistan, Sudan, and probably Panama, only one in five adults was literate when the countries tried their democratic experiments. In Sierra Leone, the figure was closer to one in ten. Although these numbers do not prove that low levels of literacy lead to short-lived democracies, it is difficult not to believe that the chances of these fledgling democracies surviving would not have been higher if they had restricted suffrage to the literate portion of the population. At first glance, Botswana seems to contradict the claim that education and literacy are important for preserving democratic institutions. It became a democracy in 1966 and has held free elections ever since. Its growth has averaged around 6 percent, one of the highest rates in the world. Easterly (2006, pp. 28–9) attributes its spectacular growth to its democratic 36 37

This average does not include scores for the Caribbean Islands. Przeworski, Alvarez, Cheibub, and Limongi (2000, ch. 2).

Table 10.2. Short-lived democracies and literacy (1950–1990) Country

Start

End

Type

Argentina

1950 1958 1963 1973 1979 1963 1961 1960 1970 1979 1974 1950 1958 1957 1971 1955 1954 1960 1960 1979 1950 1972 1950 1956 1963 1961 1960 1956 1965 1975 1988 1975 1980

1954 1961 1965 1975 1979 1963 1962 1962 1971 1980 1978 1953 1962 1962 1971 1956 1958 1961 1965 1982 1955 1976 1950 1961 1967 1966 1960 1959 1968 1979 1989 1975 1984

Presidential Presidential Presidential Presidential Presidential Presidential Mixed Presidential Parliamentary Presidential Parliamentary Presidential Presidential Presidential Presidential Parliamentary Parliamentary Parliamentary Parliamentary Presidential Parliamentary Mixed Presidential Presidential Presidential Presidential Parliamentary Parliamentary Parliamentary Parliamentary Mixed Parliamentary Presidential

Bolivia Brazil Congo Ghana Grenada Guatemala Honduras Indonesia Laos Myanmar (Burma) Nigeria Pakistan Panama Peru Sierra Leone South Korea Sudan Suriname Thailand Uganda

Adult literacy rates percent (year) 93 (1970)

94 (1984)

61 (1960)

68 (1970)

63 (1985) 74 (1985)

25 (1960)

42 (1970) 30 (1970)

56 (1980) 45 (1980)

29 (1950)

38 (1969)

85 (1985) 51 (1980)

50 (1960)

52 (1970)

60 (1980)

39 (1960)

54 (1970)

24 (1970)

74 (1980) 45 (1980) 78 (1983) 42 (1985)

21 (1970)

24 (1986)

27 (1960)

19 (1970) 70 (1970)

90 (1987) 85 (1985)

7 (1960) 22 (1945) 23 (1956)

13 (1970) 88 (1970) 17 (1970)

24 (1980) 94 (1980) 22 (1980) 90 (1985)

68 (1960)

79 (1970) 41 (1970)

88 (1983) 50 (1980)

Notes: Transition dates and type of democracy are taken from PACL (2000, appendix 1.2, pp. 59–69). All adult literacy figures for the 1980s are from the Lexicon Universal Encyclopedia (1988). Other literacy figures are from: Argentina, 1970 (average male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/argentin.htm Brazil: http://www.scielo.br/scielo.php?pid =S0034–89101972000400008&=sci arttext Congo (average of male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/zaire.htm Ghana: http://www.photius.com/countries/ghana/society/ghana society adult education.html Guatemala: http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0003/000372/037284eo.pdf Honduras, 1960: http://sanpedrosula.usvpp.gov/usaid2.html Honduras, 1970 (average of male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/honduras.htm Indonesia, 1960: http://www.newint.org/issue116/facts.htm Indonesia, 1970: http://www.animalinfo.org/country/indones.htm Nigeria, 1970 (average of male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/nigeria.htm Pakistan, 1970: http://www.country-studies.com/pakistan/education.html Panama, 1960 and 1970: http://www.mapsofworld.com/south-america/education/panama.html Peru, 1970 (average of male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/peru.htm Sierra Leone, 1960: http://www.gdnet.org/pdf/davies.pdf Sierra Leone, 1970 (average male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/sierra l.htm South Korea, 1948 and 1970: http://www.country-studies.com/south-korea/education.html Sudan, 1956: http://countrystudies.us/sudan/51.htm Sudan, 1970 (average of male and female): http://www.animalinfo.org/country/sudan.htm Thailand, 1960 and 1970: http://web.nso.go.th/eng/en/stat/poph/popt5.htm Uganda, 1970: http://www.animalinfo.org/country/uganda.htm

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institutions. Yet at the time it became a democracy, its literacy rate was at best around 40 percent and was still in the low eighties some fifteen years later.38 How can this be? Of course, one success story does not necessarily cancel out twenty or so failures, but there are additional reasons to doubt whether Botswana is an important counterexample. First, it has a lot of things going for it that many other developing, and in particular African, countries do not enjoy – low population density, temperate climate, and a lot of diamonds. More importantly, however, it has a fairly homogeneous population. Roughly 80 percent of Botswanians are Tswanas and speak the same language; 72 percent are Christians with the remaining denominations being local religions. These figures might be compared with those of Nigeria presented in Chapter One – some 250 ethnic groups, a correspondingly large number of languages, and a 50/40 split between Christians and Muslims. Literacy aside, the prerequisites for successful democracy are much better represented in Botswana. The most important reason to discount Botswana’s success as a democracy, however, is that it is not clear that it is a democracy. In the fortyplus years since it started to hold elections in 1966, one party has won all elections – the Botswana Democratic Party (BDP). Such electoral success is undoubtedly due in part to the country’s outstanding economic performance, but in any Western democracy one would expect the BDP to lose at least one election over forty years because of pure boredom on the part of voters. Because there has never been a change in government in Botswana, PACL do not even categorize Botswana as a democracy, reasoning that it is not obvious that the BDP would relinquish office if it did lose an election.39 Thus, Botswana seems more like Singapore than say Taiwan, once Taiwan became a full-fledged democracy (PACL classify both Botswana and Singapore as bureaucratic dictatorships). Its leaders stay in office until they choose to retire or die. Botswana’s first head of state Seretse Khama was president from the first democratic election in 1966 until he died in 1980. He was followed by his deputy Questt Masire, who was president until he retired in 1998 and passed the presidency on to his vice president Festus Mogae. Mogae ruled until 2008, when he stepped down from the presidency and was replaced by his vice president, Ian Khama. Unlike the Nigerians, 38 39

The earliest figures I could find were for 1970 and 1971, which were around 40 percent. My Lexicon Universal Encyclopedia gives a figure of 52 percent in 1981. See discussion in Przeworski, Alvarez, Cheibub, and Limongi (2000, pp. 23–8).

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Kenyans, and so many others in Africa, however, the Botswanans have been fortunate in that their de facto dictators have been both somewhat enlightened and benevolent and have not simply used their time in office to rob the country. As is true today in China and Russia, many Botswanans do not seem concerned about the fact that theirs is not a very competitive democracy, so long as the good times roll. Literacy tests have a bad reputation in the United States, because they were used by southern states to prevent blacks from voting. If such tests are used in a discriminatory way to prevent people from a particular minority who are literate from voting, then they obviously cannot be defended. Yet what if they are administered in a nondiscriminatory way and protect the community from populist leaders? The issue becomes more complicated if illiteracy is concentrated in particular minority groups, as it is today in many Central and South American countries. Elites of European descendants ruled most Latin and Central American countries during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In many cases, they exploited the indigenous population shamefully. When democracy is combined with restricted suffrage based on literacy, this exploitation tends to continue because illiteracy is concentrated in the indigenous population. Because the economic/literacy division coincides with an ethnic/linguistic division, the European elites do not identify with the indigenous part of the population, and do not make the investments in education and rural infrastructure to lift them out of poverty. Universal suffrage might then improve the indigenous population’s lot by giving it more political clout. If, on the other hand, it simply leads to a shift from corrupt and incompetent politicians drawn from the European elite replaced by corrupt and incompetent politicians drawn from the indigenous population, the plight of the poor might even worsen. Universal suffrage in Bolivia, Ecuador, and Peru has brought neither impressive leadership nor policies that have greatly benefited the indigenous population. In such countries, where wide economic gaps coincide with ethnic and linguistic differences, winner-takes-all majoritarian democracy may be incapable of producing benefits for the entire population. Thus, some new democracies face a difficult choice. The euphoria of introducing democratic institutions will be significantly dampened if some segments of the population are not allowed to vote. On the other hand, if a large part of the population is poorly educated, universal suffrage may produce populist leaders who are either incompetent or corrupt and who may not be committed to maintaining the country’s democracy. Many of the short interludes of democracy listed in Table 10.2 fit this scenario.

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VI. Is Literacy Enough? Although literacy rates approach 100 percent in the United States and other highly developed countries, these numbers unfortunately disguise the fact that large fractions of the populations of these countries remain functionally illiterate, that is they do no possess sufficient literacy skills to read a newspaper and correctly answer questions about its content. A 2003 study by the National Assessment of Adult Literacy found that 14 percent (30 million) of adult Americans ages sixteen and older lacked basic literacy skills (i.e., they could not pass simple functional literacy tests). Another 29 percent (63 million) could barely pass them. Given the complexity of issues today, one might argue that citizens need still higher comprehension levels to perform their duties adequately. If this is the case, then at least 14 percent and perhaps as many as 43 percent of Americans would be denied the privilege of voting if America required that citizens be able to read and understand the issues in an election before they were allowed to vote.40 Unfortunately, a lack of basic reading skills is not unique to America. Tests for functional literacy in twelve countries reveal large fractions of adults scoring in the lowest two of five literacy categories (see Table 10.3). Table 10.3. Percentages of adults scoring in the lowest two levels of an international literacy test Country Poland Ireland United Kingdom United States Switzerland (German) Belgium (Flemish) New Zealand Switzerland (French) Australia Canada The Netherlands Sweden

Level 1

Level 2

42.6 22.6 21.8 20.7 19.3 18.4 18.4 17.6 17.0 16.6 10.5 7.5

34.5 29.8 30.3 25.9 35.7 28.2 27.3 33.7 27.1 25.6 30.1 20.3

Source: http://www.nifl.gov/nifl/facts/IALS.html.

Both Ireland and the United Kingdom had higher percentages of adults in the lowest level, and Switzerland, Belgium, New Zealand, Australia, and 40

See http://nces.ed.gov/naal/kf demographics.asp#3.

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Canada were arguably rather close to the United States. If one thought that citizens should score above the lowest two levels before they could vote, then in every country except Sweden more than 40 percent of the adult population would be disenfranchised. In Ireland, the United Kingdom, and Switzerland, the figure would be more than 50 percent, in poor Poland more than 75 percent. As discussed in Chapter One, many political scientists today require universal suffrage before they are even willing to consider a country a democracy and ignore the quality of the outcomes of the political process or whether its outcomes match the preferences of voters or advance their welfare.41 For example, Tatu Vanhanen (1997) has calculated an Index of Democracy, ID, which gives equal weight to the competitiveness of a country’s political system, C, and the fraction of the total population that votes, P. C equals 100 minus the fraction of the total vote in an election going to the largest party, and ID = P × C / 100. The logic behind the measure of competitiveness is clear – a country in which the major party routinely wins 80 to 90 percent of the votes does not have a very competitive political system. The measure has the unfortunate attribute, however, that multiparty systems tend to be judged to be inherently more competitive than two-party systems. The largest party in a two-party system usually gets close to 50 percent of the vote while the share of the vote going to the largest party in multiparty systems seldom reaches this level. Hence, C is almost certain to be higher in a multiparty system. If one thinks of competitive political systems as resulting in changes in the ruling parties over time, then one might argue that it is two-party systems that are really more competitive. In many multiparty systems – like Italy during the second half of the twentieth century – new elections often bring only a minor reshuffling of the ruling parties rather than a complete change. Table 10.4 reports the values of C, P, and ID for parliamentary, or where noted, presidential elections in the early 1990s for selected countries. Belgium, which has a fractionalized party structure in part because of its linguistic division and compulsory voting, turns out to be one of the most democratic countries in the world, while Switzerland, because of its much lower voter turnouts, is judged to be less democratic than Albania, Ecuador, and the Ukraine. The United States cannot even match Switzerland, but does manage to tie Russia. If one inquired as to how well each country’s political system satisfies voter preferences, on the other hand, a much different picture would emerge. Because of its highly decentralized political 41

Dahl (1998) and Tilly (2007).

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267

Table 10.4. Competitiveness, participation, and indexes of democracy in selected countries, circa 1990 Country Belgium Czech Republic Romania United Kingdom Turkey Moldova Croatia Canada South Korea Ecuador Argentina Ukraine Albania Switzerland Russia United States Mongolia Venezuela India

Year

C

P

ID

1991 1992 1992 1992 1991 1990 1992 1988 1992 1992 1993 1991a 1991 1991 1991a 1992a 1992 1993 1991

76 66 72 58 73 30 56 57 62 73 58 38 44 79 43 57 43 72 55

62 61 48 58 43 55 54 51 47 39 47 59 59 30 54 41 45 27 32

47 40 35 34 33 33 30 29 29 28 27 27 26 24 23 23 19 19 18

a Presidential election; all other elections are for legislature. C = Competitiveness, P = Voter Participation, ID = Index of Democracy, ID = C × P / 100. Source: Vanhanen (1997, pp. 176–207).

structure and heavy use of direct democracy, Swiss voters have far more control over their governments than in any other country in the world. Doubling the voter turnout in Switzerland would not obviously improve the outcomes from the democratic process.42 The lesson to be learned from this discussion is not that voting should be limited to a tiny, highly educated elite but rather that when it comes to voter participation, more does not always imply better.

VII. Conclusions No people in history have taken citizenship more seriously than the Athenians. They were stingy in granting it, and expected much from those upon 42

For a discussion of the desirable properties of the Swiss political system see Steinberg (1966) and Kirchg¨assner, Feld, and Savioz (1999).

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whom it was conferred – to fight in battle when called on and to participate actively and often in the political process. The requirement that a citizen be capable of equipping himself in battle ensured that a Greek citizen was a man of at least modest substance and had a financial stake in the polity. As Pericles’ funeral oration quoted in Chapter Five makes clear, the concepts of citizenship and the character of an Athenian were closely entwined as were the concepts of public and private life. He who stayed aloof from public life was useless. Among present-day democracies, Switzerland comes closest to Athens in the importance placed on citizenship. As in Athens, a Swiss obtains citizenship at the local level; historically has been expected to be prepared to fight for his country; and is frequently called upon to discharge his or her obligations as a voter. As in Athens, the Swiss have been relatively stingy granting citizenship – only 60 percent of the residents of Switzerland are citizens. The nature of Switzerland’s democracy and its success, as for Athens’, cannot be separated from the importance placed on citizenship. The Venetian citizen also identified closely with his city-state. Although voting was confined to a smallish fraction of the population, it was not smaller than the fractions enfranchised in the United States at the end of the eighteenth century or in European countries when they first became parliamentary democracies. Moreover, the aristocratic background of Venice’s voting population ensured that they were both educated and had a considerable financial stake in the polity. All Venetians prospered during the five hundred years of democratic/aristocratic rule. Despite the passionate rhetoric of the Declaration of the Rights of Man, the definition of citizen in the French Constitution of 1791 was quite conservative by today’s standards. It contained two classes of citizens; those who could vote and those who possessed only the civil liberties enumerated in the constitution. Voting citizenship was restricted to “French males over the age of 25 who paid a certain amount in annual taxation and who registered for the National Guard.”43 This restricted the voting population to about 15 percent of the total, a figure not far from the fraction of voters in the Venetian Republic. Thus, at the Revolution’s start, the Republic’s constitution contained the main elements of Athenian citizenship – a form of property requirement and a willingness to fight for one’s country. As the Revolution progressed, voting rights were extended to all adult males and the quality of public debate and collective decision-making declined. How far they had declined by September 1792 is reflected in Charles Barbaroux’s

43

Munck (2000, p. 204).

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269

description of the deliberations of the electoral assembly in Avignon, an assembly that he chaired. Imagine an assemblage of 900 people, mostly ignorant, having difficulty in making themselves listen to those with any sense, but giving themselves over to the seething hotheads, and, in this assembly, a crowd of men avid for money and preferment, eternal denouncers, who dream up trouble (or exaggerate it) in order to gain lucrative commissions; intriguers quick at disseminating calumnies, little distrustful minds, a few virtuous but unenlightened men; some who were enlightened but lacked courage; a great many patriots, but without balance and without philosophy; ˆ such was the electoral body of the d´epartment of Bouches-du-Rhone. One event describes it better than this very imperfect sketch: on hearing the news of the massacres of 2 September, the hall responded with applause. (Chabaud, [1822]1936, p. 168)44

Here one might usefully compare Barbaroux’s description of the French citizens gathered to determine the fate of their country with Pericles’ description of the Greek citizens who died in defense of theirs. Barbaroux penned these reflections while awaiting execution for his participation in one of the political factions that had fallen out of favor (the Girondins). No one event can be said to have caused the Revolution’s degeneration into tyranny and barbarity but the rapid spread of the voting franchise to those ill equipped for making collective choices certainly played an important role. In Athens and Venice, concern for the common good dominated narrow self-interest, and the conditions necessary for Condorcet’s Jury Theorem might reasonably be said to have been met. The Founders of the American Republic also were greatly concerned about whether citizens would pursue the common good, as James Madison’s discussion of factions in Federalist 10 illustrates. Citizens of the United Kingdom and other countries have also on occasion placed the public’s welfare above their own. Today, it is difficult to recognize a concern for the common good in the developed democracies. Interest group politics reign, and the interests of pressure groups are so diverse that it is impossible to satisfy them all. As they try to meet the demands of pressure groups, democratic governments reinforce the incentives of these groups to make more demands and contribute to the growing alienation among citizens who believe that the state is not doing enough to advance their interests. A ballot box is not a magic box that allows one to place any sort of messages in it, producing outcomes that satisfy everyone in the community. It might achieve this magic if everyone made the same demands on the state, but 44

Chabaud (1936, p. 168) as quoted in Munck (2000, p. 209).

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the incentives of majoritarian democracy operate against such agreement on common ends. Moreover, in democracies with large electorates, citizens have little incentive to become informed about public issues. In developing countries, they may lack the education to become informed even if they would wish to. For democracy to work its wonders, an educated and conscientious citizenry is needed, a citizenry that shares a set of goals, the most important of which, perhaps, is the desire to live in a liberal democracy. When these conditions are met, democracy can and has advanced the welfare of the community in many instances. Switzerland serves as a good example. When they have not been met, democracy has on occasion produced much bloodshed and suffering. Here it is perhaps worth reminding the reader that both protagonists in the American Civil War had democratically elected governments.

ELEVEN

Rights

Natural rights is simple nonsense: natural and imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense – nonsense upon stilts. (Jeremy Bentham, 1843)

In the previous chapter, we discussed how political institutions might be used to determine public policies that advance the interests of all citizens. We saw that under certain special conditions, the simple majority rule is the optimal rule for revealing individual preferences. It is also the voting rule that is almost universally used by legislatures and other collective decisionmaking bodies. For many people, democracy is equivalent to majoritarian democracy. Most countries also have lists of individual rights as parts of their constitutions, and courts sometimes overturn acts by the legislature that are deemed to violate these rights. Constitutional rights allow a small subset of the population to negate the will of the people as expressed using the simple majority rule in the legislature. This feature of constitutional rights has puzzled some scholars.1 In this chapter, we discuss the nature of constitutional rights and their role in advancing the welfare of citizens in a liberal democracy. We then go on to contrast them with various other notions of rights like natural and cosmopolitan rights.2

I. The Choice of Voting Rule A constitutional convention must address many issues – whether to establish a federalist or unitary state, whether to create a two-party or a multiparty system, and so on. We ignore these questions here to concentrate on the choice of a voting rule to make future collective decisions, an issue touched 1 2

See, for example, Bickel (1962). Parts of this chapter reproduce arguments from Mueller (1996a, ch. 14).

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upon in the previous chapter. Perhaps the easiest way to think about this question is to assume that the polity is sufficiently small so that each citizen can represent her preferences directly as in a town meeting; thus, questions of federalism and representation need not be addressed. The only question the first assembly of citizens must decide is what voting rule to use to make future collective choices. The simplest and most familiar class of voting rules take the form that an issue x defeats alternative y if the fraction of the community voting for x is equal to or greater than m, 0 < m ≤ 1. The task of the constitutional convention then boils down to choosing m. When making this choice, an individual at the constitutional stage must weigh the gain from a higher m, which increases the likelihood that she benefits from the collective decision, against the decision-making costs of achieving greater consensus. The probability that an individual is on the winning side of an issue increases with m. Call this probability p(m). Call s the gain an individual expects if she is on the winning side of an issue, with u(s) the utility from this gain, and t the loss if she is on the losing side, with v(t) being the disutility of this loss. If s were a cash subsidy and t a tax, we could write v(t) as u(−t), but we wish to allow for the possibility that gains and losses from collective decisions are of different kinds than just cash transfers. Let d(m) be the anticipated decision-making costs measured in units commensurate with u and v. It is reasonable to assume that decision-making costs rise with m, and that marginal decision-making costs increase as the collective decision rule approaches the unanimity rule as depicted in Figure 11.1.3 The closer the group gets to unanimous agreement, the greater the potential gain to someone from holding out for a better outcome, and the longer it takes to reach the required majority. Marginal decision-making costs, d (m), increase over the range from m = 0.5 to m = 1.0. Were m to be less than 0.5, say 0.4, mutually inconsistent issues could pass. A measure to increase spending on police could obtain 45 percent of the votes and pass, as could a proposal to decrease spending on police. This awkward possibility is avoided by limiting the decision rule to the range 0.5 < m ≤ 1.0. All individuals at the constitutional stage wish to choose political institutions that will advance their welfare. We depict this as a choice of m that maximizes a participant’s expected utility. All individuals are uncertain of whether they will be on the winning or losing side of an issue. One participant’s expected utility thus equals the probability that she is on the winning 3

Formally, we assume d  (m) > 0 and d  (m) > 0. With respect to the other functions, we assume p (m) > 0, p (m) < 0, u (s) > 0, u (s) < 0, v(t) > 0, and v  (t) > 0.

I. The Choice of Voting Rule

273

Marginal benefits and costs

g4

d’(m)

g3

g2

g1 0

0.5

m 1.0

Figure 11.1. Possible optimal majorities.

side multiplied by the gain if she wins minus the probability that she is on the losing side multiplied by her loss if she loses, minus the decision-making costs. E (U ) = p(m)u(s ) − [1 − p(m)]v(t) − d(m)

(11.1)

At the optimum, the marginal gain from increasing the likelihood of winning by increasing m just offsets the increase in decision-making costs when m increases. Formally, this is given by: p  (m)[u(s ) + v(t)] = d  (m)

(11.2)

In Figure 11.1 the gi curves represent the marginal gains from increasing m, the left-hand side of (11.2). Because d (m) is undefined for m less than 0.5, no solution to (11.2), m∗ , less than 0.5 is allowable. If d (m) declined continuously to the left of m = 0.5, as it rises to the right of this point, curves like g1 and g2 would imply m∗ s < 0.5. One way to interpret this possibility is that if it were not for the possibility of mutually inconsistent proposals passing, the optimal majority in these situations would be less than 0.5. We assume in these cases that the constitution framers choose the simple majority rule – the minimum majority that avoids mutually inconsistent

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proposals passing.4 With marginal gains given by g3 , m∗ is determined by the intersection of g3 and the d (m) curve, and m∗ > 0.5. The positions of the gi curves obviously depend on the relative magnitudes of s and t. To see what effects of varying t and s have, assume that t is proportional to s. t = bs ,

with b ≥ 0

(11.3)

It can be shown that m∗ increases with b.5 Increasing the size of the loss, if one is on the losing side of an issue relative to the gain, if one is on the winning side, shifts the marginal gain curve, gi in Figure 11.1, to the right. For a large group of issues for which the harm done to the losers, t, is expected to be small relative to the gains to the winners, the optimal majority is the simple majority. However, as the loss from being on the losing side increases relative to the gain from being on the winning side, the optimal majority eventually exceeds 0.5. With a sufficiently large t relative to s, the optimal voting rule becomes the unanimity rule. Individuals writing a constitution who (1) envisaged the same sorts of future decisions and (2) assumed that all had the same probability of being on the winning or losing side could unanimously agree on the voting rules to be used.6 Of course, it will not be possible at the constitutional stage to envisage every future collective choice and devise a separate voting rule for each. Yet it is reasonable that the different types of collective decisions a polity will face can be anticipated in a general way. The previous analysis then implies that future collective decisions be divided into different categories. For decisions with an expected loss to losers that is large relative to the gain for the winners, a higher majority should be required to pass an issue. For a category of collective decisions, the loss to someone on the losing side may be so large relative to the gain to a winner that from behind the veil of ignorance where no one knows if she will be on the winning or the losing side, the community assigns this issue to the category to be decided using the unanimity rule.

II. From the Constitutional Voting Rule to Constitutional Rights A right defines an individual’s inviolable freedom to undertake a particular action or to refrain from such an action without interference or coercion 4 5

6

Reimer (1951). Let z = p (m)[u(s) + v(bs)] − d (m). Then the sign of ∂m∗ /∂c, where c is any parameter in z, is the same as the sign of ∂z/∂c. Because ∂z/∂b = p (m)v  (s)s > 0, we know that m∗ increases with b. On this see the discussion by Buchanan and Tullock (1962) and Rae (1969).

II. From the Constitutional Voting Rule to Constitutional Rights

275

from other individuals or institutions, including the state.7 One could of course define an action as the act of doing nothing and omit the “refrain from action” portion of the definition, but it is important to make explicit that rights can simply protect a freedom not to act, as most conspicuously in the U.S. Constitution’s Fifth Amendment, which protects the freedom to remain silent so as not to incriminate oneself.8 Constitutional rights protect what philosophers refer to as negative liberties.9 If a community had the authority to ban the publication of a specific book, then an individual in the community would find it impossible to read this book. A constitutional article guaranteeing free speech prevents a majority of the community from passing a law banning a book. Now consider the simple action of scratching one’s ear. The person undertaking the action experiences a small benefit, and no one else is harmed. If someone were not allowed to scratch his ear without the community voting on it, this would certainly be the kind of collective decision that would optimally be made using the simple majority rule. Most of the community would probably abstain or vote with the person wishing to scratch his ear out of empathy, and the issue would pass. There are countless actions like this – scratching one’s elbow, wiggling one’s toes – and it would absorb all of the community’s time if each person’s action required a vote of the community. To avoid these transaction costs, implicit if not explicit in the constitution should be, therefore, the freedom to do as one pleases unless an action is explicitly prohibited by a collective decision of the community. Such exceptions are in some cases socially optimal. Burning trash in a densely populated community may be one such exception. The loss, t, imposed on the person wishing to burn trash might reasonably be assumed to be small relative to the gain, s, to others from not having to inhale the fumes from the burning trash. Laws governing trash disposal and other actions creating negative externalities in densely populated areas are the kinds of collective actions that individuals at the constitutional stage will wish to allow the polity to make using the simple majority rule or some other qualified majority rule. Now consider an example in which the loss to someone prevented from acting, t, is very large, and the gains from preventing this action, s, are 7

8 9

In previous expositions of this theory, I have defined a right as an unconditional freedom to act. As noted later, however, all rights are conditional in the sense that they depend on the exact definition of the action. Given this definition, the word inviolable captures the meaning better. Although all rights need not be thought of as actions, there are some analytic advantages in doing so. See Kavka (1986, pp. 297–8). See Steiner (1994, ch. 2) and references therein.

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relatively small. Rachel practices one religion and everyone else practices other religions. Rachel’s religion commands her not to comb her hair. Rachel’s uncombed hair causes other members of the community some slight irritation. The unhappiness Rachel or any other member of the community would experience if she had to violate a command of her religion is quite large, however. As in the trash burning example, we confront a negative externality situation. However, with t sufficiently large relative to s, the optimal majority equals one. If the community were to make a formal collective decision in externality situations such as this, the optimal voting rule would be the unanimity rule. Using the unanimity rule in situations of this type is equivalent to giving Rachel a veto over any collective action another citizen or group might propose. Rachel could be compelled to violate her religion’s dictate against combing her hair only if she willingly agreed to do so. One possible course of action, given these considerations, is for the constitution framers to include restrictions on religious practices among the collective actions requiring unanimous agreement. That is, to recognize that such actions can involve externalities and thus require collective action but because of the large expected asymmetries in the benefits and costs involved to require that collective action to ban a religious practice be taken only if the community is unanimous. The person whose religious practice causes an externality must agree to the collective decision, whatever it is, regarding the externality caused by this religious practice. Presumably, a group would vote to ban one of its religion’s practices only if it were compensated (bribed) in some way. Something like this occurred when Utah entered the United States. In exchange for statehood, the Mormons agreed to give up polygamy.10 If the expected gain from curbing an action of a religious minority (s) is generally expected to be quite small, however, the community is unlikely to offer a sufficient bribe to convince the minority to incur the large cost t. The likely outcome under the unanimity rule will be that the minority does not cast its votes with the community. It uses its veto under the unanimity rule to allow it to obey its religion’s dictates. Thus, if the constitution framers anticipate that all or nearly all future conflicts over religious practices will involve extremely large losses for anyone prevented from following a religious dictate, and relatively small gains for everyone else, they can effectuate the likely outcome from the application of the unanimity 10

Strictly speaking, polygamy is not a part of the Mormon religion, but it might be regarded as a former part of the culture of Mormons.

III. Salient Characteristics of Constitutional Rights

277

rule by specifically granting each citizen the right to practice the religion of her choosing. Such a constitutional right removes restrictions on religious conduct from the community’s future collective action agendas. A constitutional right to undertake certain actions provides the same protection, with lower decision-making costs, as the implicit veto each citizen possesses under the unanimity rule. The citizen need not exercise the right, so that both potential outcomes from the application of the unanimity rule are still possible. We can now answer a question central to the debate between the Federalists and the anti-Federalists of why an explicit enumeration of certain inviolable rights in the Constitution was desirable.11 Almost any action has the potential of altering another person’s welfare, that is, of creating an externality. When an action creates a negative externality for a large number of individuals, a collective decision curbing the individual’s right to undertake this action may advance community welfare. For most actions involving externalities, the relative gains and losses are such that the optimal voting rule for introducing constraints on individuals (e.g., laws against burning trash, speeding, and littering) is the simple majority rule, or some qualified majority less than unanimity. Religious practices, a public speech, a printed book, even reading a book12 can have negative external effects, and could thus precipitate an attempt to curb the offending action. Restraints on actions are not in the community’s interests, however, when the welfare loss of the individual whose activity is curbed is quite large relative to the gain experienced by others from such a restriction. Explicitly protecting an individual’s right to act in these situations is one way to raise the costs on the rest of the community of curbing these actions.

III. Salient Characteristics of Constitutional Rights Several features of constitutional rights as defined by this theory are worth pointing out. First, rights need to be explicitly protected in a constitution only with respect to actions that might cause negative externalities and thus be challenged by future legislative majorities. No matter how much enjoyment individuals experience from scratching their ears, an explicit right to scratch one’s ear need not be in the constitution, because it is difficult to imagine anyone proposing a law to ban ear scratching. We know from 11 12

Rutland (1985) and Storing (1985). See Sen’s (1970a,b) infamous example.

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history that majorities have curtailed the rights of religious minorities, and thus if the constitution framers wish to protect the freedom of all persons to practice their religions, they will do so by explicitly placing a right to practice one’s religion in the constitution.13 A second feature of constitutional rights is that their main target is not individuals or even groups acting in their private capacities, so much as groups acting collectively through the state. If someone tries physically to prevent me from going to the movies, I call the police and the person is arrested for violating some local ordinance. I do not need to appeal to my constitutional rights, and the police and courts would undoubtedly not invoke the constitution when arresting and convicting this person. The same would be true if the person tried to prevent me from going to church. The purpose of a constitutional right protecting the freedom to attend religious services is not to protect people from being physically prevented by other citizens from practicing their religions, but rather to protect them from future legislative majorities that might pass laws prohibiting certain religious practices. We now see why constitutional rights do and should conflict with the normative principles underlying majoritarian democracy. The conflict arises in situations involving great asymmetries in expected utilities between the person whose action is protected by the right and those who are possibly adversely affected by the action. This extreme asymmetry draws a link between our theory of constitutional rights and various normative theories of rights. Perhaps not surprisingly, one of the closest links is to John Stuart Mill’s conception of rights as presented in his essay Utilitarianism. When we call anything a person’s right, we mean that he has a valid claim on society to protect him in the possession of it, either by the force of law, or by education and opinion . . . To have a right, then is, I conceive, to have something which society ought to defend me in the possession of. If the objector goes on to ask, why it ought? I can give him no other reason than general utility. (Mill, [1863]1962, Book V, p. 309)

Thus, Mill is thinking of rights as advancing general utility, which in turn could be defined as the sum of all individual utilities. This is exactly what is maximized in our theory at the constitutional stage, where each person is uncertain over his future position in the community. Although Mill speaks of protecting possessions rather than actions, and in particular of protecting security, he clearly has in mind the kind of extreme asymmetries in utilities that underlies our theory. Defending a right receives: 13

Cass Sunstein (1996, p. 226) also makes this point.

III. Salient Characteristics of Constitutional Rights

279

. . . its moral justification, from the extraordinarily important and impressive kind of utility which is concerned . . . Our notion, therefore, of the claim we have on our fellow-creatures to join in making safe for us the very groundwork of our existence, gathers feelings around it so much more intense than those concerned in any of the more common cases of utility, that the difference in degree (as is often the case in psychology) becomes a real difference in kind. The claim assumes that character of absoluteness, that apparent infinity, and incommensurability with all other considerations, which constitute the distinction between the feeling of right and wrong and that of ordinary expediency and inexpediency. The feelings concerned are so powerful, and we count so positively on finding responsive feeling in others (all being alike interested), that ought and should grow into must, and recognized indispensability becomes a moral necessity. . . . (Mill, [1863]1962, Book V, p. 310, emphasis in original)

Our theory thus weds the contractarianism of Hobbes and Locke to the utilitarianism of Mill and Bentham to produce a theoretical justification for placing rights in a constitution. Waldron begins his book on property rights as follows: “A right-based argument is an argument showing that an individual interest considered in itself is sufficiently important from a moral point of view to justify holding people to be under a duty to promote it.”14 Our theory of rights protects individual actions (interests) sufficiently important from a utility point of view. The utility calculations of the constitution’s drafters are introspective and subjective. Each person imagines what it would be like to be a slave, a slave owner, and a person who is neither, and decides whether to ban slavery or define a right to freedom in the constitution. For many, a moral justification for a right stands on firmer ground than a justification based on subjective utility calculations. Yet from whence springs the moral point of view? A Christian might consult the Bible and a Muslim the Koran, but a moral philosopher must consult his own intuitions. There are no definitive proofs that slavery is bad and free speech is good. Moral justifications of these are just as subjective as ours, although perhaps not based on utilities. Today, it seems obvious to almost everyone that slavery is morally wrong. But our twenty-first-century intuition would not have been shared by the philosophers of Ancient Greece who were not manifestly inferior to modern philosophers in their powers of reasoning. The constitutional rights of our theory are unanimously chosen by the society that will be subject to them. They are embedded in a constitutional contract to which all have agreed. This unanimous agreement gives these rights a certain moral authority, just as the unanimity underlying Rawls’ 14

Waldron (1988, p. 3; see also his discussion in ch. 3).

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(1971) social contract gives it a certain moral authority. When the constitution defining certain rights was written, everyone believed that their interests individually and collectively would be advanced by placing a particular set of rights into the constitution.

IV. The Relative Nature of Constitutional Rights When weighing the costs and benefits from a constitutional right, different societies can be expected to arrive at different definitions. A society whose members are all of the same religion may fail to protect the right to practice a different religion. It may simply never occur to the constitution writers that anyone would ever choose to practice any other religion or that a conflict could arise over this issue. On the other hand, the anticipated conflicts surrounding religious beliefs in a country such as the United States, formed in part by individuals fleeing religious persecution in other countries, might lead to explicit constitutional protection of religious freedom. A society that historically has had a free market system may fail to protect its market institutions explicitly in the constitution, it being implicitly understood by all that postconstitutional economic institutions will involve free markets. On the other hand, if a constitution were written following a revolution that overthrew a Socialist regime with the purpose of instituting a free market system, uncertainty over the future political viability of this system might be great. The constitution drafters might reasonably choose to spell out in considerable detail the rights of individuals that sustain free markets. The uncertainties surrounding an individual’s position versus the state depend, of course, to a considerable degree on the rules defining the operation of the state and on the expectations of those writing the constitution as to how the state will operate.15 If all collective decisions were to be made using the unanimity rule, there would be no need to protect individual rights against the state.16 The veto power contained in the unanimity rule would be the only protection of liberty individuals would need. More generally, the larger the majority required to pass laws restricting individual freedoms, the less need there is to define individual rights in the constitution. Thus, the nature and number of rights optimally defined and protected 15 16

See Buchanan (1975, p. 73). One can define individual rights with respect either to the state (i.e., all other individuals acting collectively or through their agents) or to other individuals acting alone. Even with a unanimity rule in the parliament, there might be some scope for defining constitutional rights of private individuals against one another.

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depends on the chosen majority for collective actions. Similarly, one can argue that a proportional representation system provides individuals with a more effective form of representation, because each citizen is represented by a party for which she voted, whereas under a so-called two-party system a substantial minority or even a majority of the population is represented by a person for whom they did not vote.17 Thus, constitutional protection of minorities is likely to be more important in two-party than in multiparty systems. A similar logic suggests a greater need for rights in a centralized unitary state than in a federalist state, because individuals can escape local, tyrannous majorities by fleeing to other local communities. Thus, the choice of a set of rights to be included in a constitution is likely to depend on other features of the constitution and is also in this sense relative. We conclude that there is no reason to expect a common set of constitutional rights in all societies. The choice of rights will depend on the following factors: (1) the specific uncertainties envisaged by a constitution’s framers, (2) their views of the relative benefits from certain actions and the external costs they impose, and (3) their judgments of the relative transaction costs of reducing future conflict by defining certain constitutional rights. The optimal choice of rights is dependent on the mode of representation, the parliamentary voting rule, and the other political institutions. They are also inherently dependent on the characteristics, history, and anticipations of the constitution’s drafters. The nature of constitutional rights put forward here is, thus, similar to the description of laws in Montesquieu’s The Spirit of the Laws – relative to the history and circumstance of an individual country.18 Moreover, the set of rights that is optimal for a particular society can be expected to change over time as its characteristics change.

V. Constitutional Rights and Liberal Democracy A constitutional right protects a citizen’s freedom to undertake a particular action. The stronger this protection is, the more freedom an individual has and the more liberal are the country’s democratic institutions. Because the set of rights that is optimal in one country may not be optimal in another, 17

18

In the United States, some 35 to almost 50 percent of the electorate are represented in the Congress by someone for whom they did not vote. In the United Kingdom, the party winning a majority of seats in the House of Commons has not won 50 percent of the votes for more than a century. Thus, in the UK a majority of citizens are represented in the House of Commons by someone for whom they did not vote. Montesquieu ([1748]1999). See also, Buchanan (1975, p. 87).

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countries will differ in their liberalism. In this section, we discuss some of the differences.

A. Conditional Rights Many think rights are unconditional. Everyone has an unconditional right to read what he wishes. No constitutional right is likely to be truly unconditional, however. Limits will exist at the boundaries of the definition of a particular action or when different rights clash. For example, when delineating a right to practice the religion of one’s choice, the constitution framers are unlikely to want to protect a religious sect’s freedom to engage in cannibalism or other forms of human sacrifice. A right to free speech may not be intended to cover shouting “fire!” in a crowded theater or libelous speech. In some cases, restrictions on a free speech right may by explicitly written into the constitution. It explicitly excludes libel and pornography from free speech. In other cases, limits to free speech may be set through judicial interpretation, as in the United States with respect to shouting fire in a crowded theater. The criteria for limiting constitutional rights should be the same as for creating them in the first place. For example, the gain to someone from shouting “fire” in a crowded theater can easily be judged to be small relative to the losses imposed on those who are injured or killed during a panicked exit. The gain to a person who falsely accuses someone of embezzlement is likely to be small relative to the psychological and financial costs imposed on the person who must prove his innocence. Thus, all communities – even the most liberal – will place some limits on the freedoms protected by constitutionally defined rights.

B. Rights and the Tyranny of the Majority The purpose of defining rights in the constitution is to protect minorities’ or even a single individual’s freedom to act, when the gain from acting is very great, and the action causes the majority only modest discomfort or loss. Because rights will be defined only for actions that cause negative externalities, the conflict between liberalism and majoritarianism is ever present in majoritarian democracies. Liberals wish to grant individuals maximum scope for action, so long as others are not significantly harmed, but those harmed by others’ actions, however small the harm, may wish to prohibit the action if they are in the majority.

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To illustrate this point, consider a topical example. In Austria, Belgium, the Czech Republic, France, Germany, Lithuania, the Netherlands, Poland, Rumania, Slovakia, and Spain, laws exist that criminalize Holocaust denial and people have spent time in jail for this crime. A recent German justice minister wants to make Holocaust denial a criminal offense throughout the European Union.19 Is this a reasonable exception to the free speech rights that exist in the countries listed and the rest of the European Union? Holocaust denial could cause two types of negative externality. First, it might be deemed a first step toward a revival of Nazism. If such a revival would succeed, the costs would be great indeed. However, is it reasonable to assume, given all we now know about Nazism, that Europeans would fall into line behind a twenty-first-century Hitler or Mussolini? The overwhelming majority of Europeans know that the Holocaust took place and it is extremely unlikely that they will be persuaded to the contrary by Holocaust deniers like David Irving. The second possible cost of Holocaust denial is that some people take offense at its mere suggestion. These costs are undoubtedly real, but do they justify infringing on the liberal right of free speech? In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the majority firmly believed the Church’s teachings and took offense when someone claimed that God did not exist or even professed a different religion from their own. Their punishment was often imprisonment, torture, and death. Majorities in some communities took offense at the content of D. H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover when it was published, and banned sales of the book. Free speech rights exist to protect the freedom of iconoclasts to think the unthinkable and speak the unspeakable. Today’s heresy may be tomorrow’s conventional wisdom. A large majority of Catholics in the sixteenth century maintained that God existed and that He was the God of the Catholic Church not the Protestant, let alone Muslim or Jewish God. To deny this was a crime. The French have criminalized the denial of genocide by the Turks after World War I when thousands of Armenians were murdered. The Turks have criminalized claiming that they did commit genocide. Once one begins to criminalize unpopular ideas, there is no limit to how far one can go. The way to counter bad ideas is to confront them with good ideas. Falsehood should be defeated by presenting the truth, not by throwing those with false beliefs in jail – unless the holding of these beliefs presents a clear and present danger to the community. 19

Bilefsky (2007).

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One might defend criminalizing Holocaust denial on the grounds that the benefits to the deniers are small from making this claim. Yet this argument might be applied to virtually all infringements on free speech. The inquisitors believed that the benefits to those accused of heresy from maintaining their beliefs were small – indeed, the inquisitors believed that they were benefiting the heretics by torturing them if the inquisitors got them to change their beliefs. Those who banned Lady Chatterley’s Lover no doubt thought that the gains to D. H. Lawrence from publishing the book and to its potential readers would be small relative to the loss it imposed on the community. Weighing these sorts of tradeoffs should not be left to a majority of the community. The whole purpose of creating constitutional rights is to protect a minority from the majority. When free speech or other rights are called into question, it is an impartial judiciary that should determine whether, as in the case of crying “fire,” the loss to the community is so great by this act of speech that it does not warrant constitutional protection. Protection of individual rights to make false or nonsensical statements does not imply that the community should take a neutral position on them. Schools should present twentieth-century history accurately and in its entirety, including an account of the Holocaust. The Holocaust should be presented as a historical fact, even though some deny its existence. If those who deny the Holocaust get control of the schools, then they do pose a significant danger to the community – witness what has happened in some parts of the United States when those who oppose Darwinian evolution get control of school curricula – but Holocaust deniers are not nearly strong enough in Europe to change school curricula. If the education system is doing its job, Europe should have no more to fear from those who deny the Holocaust than from those who deny that the world is round.

C. Restrictions on Rights Once Again Holocaust denial is associated in Europe with neo-Nazi groups, and the history of Nazism calls up many bad memories. To further clarify the concept of constitutional rights and their relative nature, we close this section with examples of restrictions on constitutional rights that are justified. Freedom of assembly appears as a right in many constitutions. It should not be allowed to protect groups that meet, say in London, to plot blowing up the Houses of Parliament, however. Free speech protection should not include classes on making bombs for terrorist acts. Again, the relevant calculation is the possible gain to the actor against the possible costs to the rest of the community. Individuals seeking to do significant harm to the

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community cannot be allowed the freedom to do so. Thus, the optimal set of rights for a community depends on its composition. In a very heterogeneous community, where some groups are alienated and seek to harm it, the ideal set of rights will be more limited than in more homogeneous communities. September 11, 2001, demonstrated that there are people who seek to do significant harm to the United States, just as the bombings in Madrid and London and the assassinations in the Netherlands showed that Europe too is endangered by terrorists. Although one can argue that both the U.S. legislative and executive branches overreacted to 9/11, it would be wrong to conclude that this event warranted no rethinking of the boundaries of free speech, freedom of movement, and privacy. The extent to which a society can be liberal and free crucially depends on what its citizens do with this freedom. If some use it to plot and execute attacks on others, then their freedoms of necessity must be curbed in the interests of the rest of the community. Alas, in curtailing the freedoms of potential terrorists one is likely to have to curtail the freedoms of the whole community. The terrorist acts of the beginning of the twenty-first century have forced countries to protect their citizens by taking measures that infringe on their citizens’ liberties. The terrorists have, thereby, succeeded in delivering a serious blow against liberal democracy.

VI. Do Groups Have Rights? In the theory put forward here, a constitutional right protects an individual’s freedom to undertake a particular action. Some scholars have advanced the notion, however, that groups can have constitutional rights as well, rights that might interfere with and override a citizen’s right as an individual. We use our theory of rights to examine group rights. The argument in favor of group rights builds on the idea that individual identities are shaped by the groups to which they belong, and that an individual’s welfare depends on the community’s recognition of and respect for her identity.20 The argument is perhaps easiest to see with respect to a cultural group with a particular language, religion, or traditions, but might apply to some extent to all groups. Gutmann (2003) distinguishes four types of groups that may contribute to a person’s identity and have been active in recent years in identity politics: voluntary, ascriptive, cultural, and religious. Ascriptive groups differ from the other three in that they form because of some attribute that is totally 20

Margalit and Raz (1990), Taylor (1992), and Gutmann (2003, pp. 1–37).

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or almost totally out of an individual’s control – sex, ethnicity, or a physical handicap like blindness. Thus, a particular characteristic of a person’s identity – such as blindness – makes her a member of a group, and may lead her to form or join an interest group to advance the political interests of all blind persons. Identity causes interests. At the other extreme, as with a purely voluntary group, interest causes identity. Sugar beet farmers have a common interest in high sugar prices and form an association to lobby for tariffs. They share certain characteristics that shape their identities – they are farmers of a particular kind, and as such have different lifestyles and perhaps values from other citizens. Cultural and religious groups fall somewhere between these polar cases. No one chooses his parents and thus no one chooses his mother tongue. His parents choose his religion in most cases, at least initially. Because one can learn other languages and change religions, remaining within a particular culture or religion is to some extent a voluntary choice. Although voluntary and ascriptive groups are polar opposites with respect to whether identity causes interest, they raise similar issues as far as whether these groups should have special political rights. Indeed, with respect to politics, both types of groups are voluntary. Although no one chooses to be deaf, one does choose whether to join the National Association of the Deaf (NAD), and it in turn decides whether to engage in political activities. Many voluntary associations form to provide their members particular public goods – suburban soccer leagues provide opportunities for children to engage in sport, the NAD provides deaf people an opportunity to learn the American Sign Language, and thus meet and communicate with other deaf people. Benefits to members of these voluntary associations can be great, the costs imposed on the rest of the community are small or nonexistent. No constitution written to advance the interests of all citizens would prohibit such groups and would quite likely explicitly protect an individual’s right to form and join such voluntary associations. The focal point of the right remains the individual and her welfare, however, not the group’s welfare. An individualistic perspective on constitutional rights can also justify constitutional provisions against discrimination on the basis of race, sex, physical handicap, and other ascriptive characteristics. From behind the veil of ignorance, a person imagines being a man or a woman and votes to prohibit discrimination on the basis of sex. Despite such prohibitions against discrimination, members of some groups may on average be worse off than the average person in society. If the disadvantage takes the form of a lower income, this too might be addressed in the constitution by a right to certain entitlements if one is poor. The criterion for the entitlement would be

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because one is poor, however, not because one is a member of a particular group whose members are on average poor. For groups with particular handicaps, the needed government assistance often does not take the form of income transfers as, for example, ramps for persons in wheelchairs. Such policies, although laudable, are so specific that they are not well suited to inclusion in a constitution. Some actions of voluntary associations do impose significant costs on the rest of the community, and in these cases, the right to free association should be abrogated. Terrorist organizations come to mind, as do cartels. Here Western democracies have been rather inconsistent. Cartels among farmers and workers are allowed, but among tax consultants and oil refiners prohibited. The historical explanation for such inconsistencies is easy to understand, even though today the economic justification for them is lacking. Cultural and religious rights are in many ways similar and more controversial, and thus we devote separate space to them, beginning with language.

A. Language Rights Language is an important component of one’s culture and by implication one’s identity. Accordingly, the existence of group rights to language has been claimed, and disputes over language rights have occurred in several countries with two or more sizeable language communities. There are several advantages to having everyone speak the same language. An important political advantage is that politicians can compete for votes across the entire country using a single language. A speech or debate can only take place in one language, and thus the effectiveness and the dynamics of a political campaign are compromised if they must be translated. Language defines political identities in Belgium, Spain, Switzerland, and Canada and “is profoundly important in the construction of democratic communities.”21 Wherever different sizeable language communities exist, countries have either adopted strong federalist institutions (Switzerland and Canada) or some similar decentralized political structure (Belgium and Spain). Secessionist movements are common in multilingual countries. Today, Belgium appears to stand on the brink of dissolution over the language question. Other costs of multilingualism (publishing government documents in more than one language, translation costs, the costs of citizens learning two 21

Kymlicka (2001, p. 215).

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or more languages rather than one, and so on) are less significant but not trivial. Nevertheless, it is quite possible that a country’s citizens choose to bear these costs for the benefits that arise from preserving a community’s language and the cultural identity that goes with it. Such a choice might be made from behind a veil of ignorance or even in full knowledge of one’s language group. If one language group is quite small, on the other hand, all citizens from behind the veil of ignorance might agree to make the dominant language the country’s sole official language and the language in which all instruction in public schools takes place. Such a decision would not preclude a minority language group from speaking its language and instructing their children in it, but would risk the language’s eventual disappearance, as later generations choose not to learn a language for which there is little use. It is this danger that worries advocates of language group rights. They see an individual’s . . . ability to plan one’s life, to choose one’s commitments and pursuits, [as] that [which] makes life worth while for human beings . . . planning one’s own life is not valuable merely because it promotes some further valuable end, but rather is good in itself. It does not derive its value from its contribution to some other end, but rather itself accounts for the value of a particular life . . . the self-directed life is intrinsically good.22

Whatever the merits of this argument for protecting whole cultures, it is not very compelling with respect to languages. An individual can be an autonomous actor choosing and planning in any language. If all languages are equally good at generating this sort of autonomy, then any one of them might be chosen by a community. If one language is superior to all others in this regard, then it should be the community’s choice, because language is a means to the end of communication and all of the benefits that accompany it. The choice of language is something like whether to drive on the right or left side of the road. It does not much matter if everyone speaks Spanish or Italian, but it is important that everyone speaks the same language. Thus, the present generation of citizens in a multilingual country would opt for a single official language from behind a Rawlsian veil of ignorance if they placed sufficient weight on the welfare of future generations. With a good public school system, the transition from one language to another should be complete within three generations. Thus, all of the costs of choosing a single language fall on the first and maybe second generations for whom this language is not their mother tongue. From the third generation on, everyone would benefit from their being only one language. While 22

R´eaume (2000, p. 246), and references thereat.

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the elements of individual identity associated with the minority language would be lost, this does not imply that members of the third generation would have no identities. Their identities would be tied to the remaining language, and they would not be conscious of having lost anything. In countries with a dominant language and one or more minority languages, individuals speaking the minority language are typically at a disadvantage. If they are not as fluent in the dominant language as those for whom it is their first language, they are likely to have more difficulty getting into and succeeding at the major universities, less success in the job market, and bear still other costs. It is here where the clash between groups and individual rights becomes most apparent. Language rights protect the current generation from bearing the costs from a shift to a different language. They deny future generations the equal access to education and career opportunities that fluency in the dominant language would bring, however. They thereby deny individuals from future generations the choice that they would make today from behind a veil of ignorance if they were free to make it.

B. Religious and Cultural Group Rights Group rights are often linked to religion, but can go beyond it. Granting a group certain constitutional rights is unproblematic in a society in which everyone is a member of the same group. The constitution might stipulate, for example, that certain elements of family law – marriages, divorce proceedings, property settlements following divorces – are the prerogative of religious authorities. Difficulties with such group rights arise, however, once a society has more than one cultural or religious group. Imagine, for example, the existence of two religious groups A and B. The constitution grants each group’s religious hierarchy authority over family law. Both groups stipulate that a marriage by one of its members to someone outside of the religion will not be recognized, and the person will be excommunicated from the religion and lose all associated rights (e.g., inheritance, burial). Suppose now, someone from A wishes to marry someone from B. How can they legitimize their marriage? What status do their children have? What inheritance rights? To handle such cases, and perhaps others involving people not belonging to either A or B, society will have to establish its own laws regarding family relationships, even if it grants the A and B groups jurisdiction over their members in these matters. However, then the possibility of conflict between civil laws and rights and religious group decisions arises. Such problems are not hypothetical. Gutmann (2003, pp. 45–53) discusses the case of a Pueblo Indian woman, Julia Martinez, who married a

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Navajo man. In accordance with Pueblo custom, the children of women who marry outside of the tribe – but not men – lose many of the rights of being a Pueblo – residence, voting, land use. Ms. Martinez sued in federal court on the grounds that she was not being granted equal protection under the law as stipulated in the Indian Civil Rights Act of 1968. She lost. The District Court reasoned that “to abrogate tribal decisions, particularly in the delicate area of membership” would “destroy cultural identity.”23 The Supreme Court concurred. One is reminded here of the case in which a German judge found against a Muslim woman seeking a quick divorce from her Muslim husband on the grounds that he beat her. The judge reasoned that the Koran allows husbands to beat their wives, and therefore the German court should defer to the customs of the Muslim religion. In both cases, individual rights were deemed to be of insufficient importance to offset a group’s right to preserve its cultural identity.24 Early in this book we contrasted modern and traditional societies. Modern societies are progressive and make heavy use of science and new technologies to improve their living standards. The wisdom of the past is retained insofar as it continues to provide an accurate description of phenomena today. If it does not, it is discarded in favor of new theories offering superior explanations. Modern societies are optimistic and future oriented. They are liberal in the nineteenth-century European sense. Traditional societies, in contrast, are backward looking. The wisdom of the ancients is as relevant today as when discovered centuries ago. They believe they shall suffer grave consequences if they abandon their traditions. Traditional societies are inherently conservative and pessimistic about the future. All religious communities are inherently traditional and conservative. The high point of world history occurred when Buddha, Abraham, Mohammed, or Christ walked the earth. The wisdom contained in the Talmud, Bible, or Koran is as valid and relevant today as it was when those inspired by God wrote it down. All societies are a mixture of traditional and modern, clinging to some erroneous beliefs and outdated customs and embracing other new discoveries and technologies. Nevertheless, the distinction is useful, because societies differ greatly in their mixes of modernity and tradition. Many traditions are, of course, beneficial or at least harmless even in modern societies. Italian Americans march on October 12 to celebrate 23 24

Gutmann (2003, p. 46). See http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,260580,00.html. The German judge, a woman, was quickly suspended from the case.

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Columbus’ “discovery of America,” and drink wine, eat pasta, and sing Italian songs afterward; Irish Americans march on March 17 to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, and drink beer, eat stew, and sing Irish songs. Each group enjoys celebrating its cultural traditions and no one is the worst for it. On the following day, however, each group returns to the modern world. Neither would ever dream of trying the preserve the lifestyle of fifteenth-century Italy or fifth-century Ireland. Other traditions are more problematic. Cultural clashes in Western democracies are almost always between modern culture and its traditional alternatives, which are very often rooted in religion. A famous example occurred in Wisconsin, where Amish parents refused to allow their children to attend high school, as mandated by Wisconsin law, on the grounds that the knowledge that they would obtain would undermine their religious faith and way of life. The clash of cultures is vividly illustrated in Chief Justice Berger’s majority opinion allowing the Amish to withdraw their children from secondary schools. Broadly speaking, the Old Order Amish religion pervades and determines the entire mode of life of its adherents. Their conduct is regulated in great detail by the Ordnung, or rules, of the church community . . . Amish objection to formal education beyond the eighth grade is firmly grounded in these central religious concepts. They object to the high school and higher education generally, because the values they teach are in marked variance with Amish values and the Amish way of life; they view secondary education as an impermissible exposure of their children to a “worldly” influence in conflict with their beliefs. The high school tends to emphasize intellectual and scientific accomplishments, self-distinction, competitiveness, worldly success, and social life with other students. Amish society emphasizes informal “learning through doing”; a life of “goodness,” rather than a life of intellect; wisdom, rather than technical knowledge; community welfare, rather than competition; and separation from rather than integration with, contemporary worldly society. 25

It is beyond dispute that an Amish upbringing shapes its members’ identities and life plans. In finding in favor of the Amish community, the Supreme Court chose to protect the parents’ freedom to determine their children’s life plans over the right of the children to choose their own life plans. Should an Amish boy or girl at the age of twenty wish to follow a life plan that includes intellectual and scientific accomplishments, selfdistinction, competitiveness, worldly success, and a social life with people outside of the Amish society, this option would be largely precluded by the 25

Wisconsin v. Yoder (1972); http://supreme.justia.com/us/406/205/case.html, footnotes omitted.

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parents’ decision to deny him or her the education necessary to follow this path. The Amish pose a particular problem for a modern society, because they are physically in it but culturally apart from it. This problem is mitigated, because the Amish form their own communities, cut off to a considerable degree from the rest of society. Similar physical isolation has also been used to protect the traditional cultures of Native Americans in the United States and Canada and aborigines in Australia with mixed success. If it had been possible a hundred years ago for the members of these cultural groups to abandon their cultures and assimilate fully in the modern societies that came to inhabit their continents, their welfare levels today would most certainly have been much higher. Although modern Western culture has proven itself superior to traditional cultures in terms of standards of living, life expectancies, and similar measures of human welfare, such differences do not automatically imply that modern culture is superior along other dimensions of comparison. The uneducated Arab woman may be happier in the security of her role as mother, wife, and daughter-in-law than the married Western woman with an MBA who must combine the stress of a career with the demands of raising a family. The noble savages hunting meat or picking berries for their supper may be both nobler and happier than their Western counterparts scavenging for their suppers in a suburban supermarket. So long as their civilizations do not meet, they do not clash, and the issue of which is better need not be confronted. It arises only when the Arab or savage chooses to migrate to the West or a Westerner tries to live in a traditional society. Epilepsy is rather unusual in that someone who appears to be healthy all of a sudden has a seizure, and then returns to normal again. In traditional societies, epileptics are often assumed to be possessed by spirits – evil or benevolent. They also often become witch doctors because of their apparent ability to communicate with the spiritual world. According to Mark (chapter 9, verse 14–29), a man brought Christ his son who exhibited characteristics of epilepsy. The father claimed the boy was possessed by the devil. Christ is reported to have cured him. In fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Europe, epileptics were burnt at the stake as witches. A clash of cultures involving epilepsy occurred more recently in the United States. The daughter of a family of immigrants from the Hmong tribe of Laos had epilepsy. Her parents believed it to be a sign of divine inspiration. Their diagnosis differed from that of the Western doctors whom she saw, as did their views on treatment. Problems of communication and trust between the doctors and parents eventually resulted in the child’s death.

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The same might have happened had the family remained in Laos, of course. False beliefs no doubt lead to many deaths in traditional societies – they are one of the prices these societies pay for their lack of modernity. However, they are unnecessary after people from traditional societies migrate to the West. Although ridding them of their false beliefs might cause confusion and unhappiness in the first generation of immigrants, it can only improve the welfare of their descendants.26 Slavery has existed throughout most of human history, and to many has seemed the natural order for society. If Mohammed could have slaves, why should a good Muslim today not have them? Abolition of slavery was a central item in the Enlightenment program, and it has been eliminated in most of the world. No one in the United States would claim a right to own slaves on the grounds that Thomas Jefferson and George Washington did. They lived in a different time period and culture from today. The cultural heritage that forms the identity of a member of a Western democracy today is different from that of the eighteenth century. Historically most societies have been patriarchal. Woman’s role was to bear and raise children. This continues to be their role in traditional societies today. In such societies, the identities of both man and woman are well defined, as are their life plans, although it is difficult to argue that either has much freedom to choose a life plan. Although women may have been the equals of men in the eyes of God since the birth of Christianity, the struggle for political equality between the sexes really only began to pick up momentum during the Enlightenment. Among the items in the Enlightenment program, it has been one of the last to be realized – and many would claim that it still has not been fully realized even in Western democracies. Yet we have come close. Women today outnumber men at universities in most Western democracies. Their identities are shaped by a culture that is far different from that which existed in the West two centuries ago or exists today in traditional societies. The range of life plans that a Western woman can choose from is far greater than in traditional, patriarchic societies. This dramatically different role for women creates for many immigrants from traditional societies a significant cultural shock. Yet again, it is mostly a shock experienced by the first generation of immigrants. If their daughters attend secular schools and learn of Western culture, they will not suffer any shock. Moreover, the option of eschewing a career and the Western way of life in favor of their traditional role of wife and mother is still open. If they then adopt this role, they will have truly chosen their life 26

Fadiman (1999) and Gutmann (2003, pp. 67–9).

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plan. To protect immigrant girls from traditional societies from exposure to Western culture and education out of respect for their traditional cultures is to deny them the rights for which women in the West have struggled for over two centuries.

VII. Natural Rights The list of conceptualizations of rights in the literature is long – natural rights, civil rights, political rights, individual rights, liberal rights, legal rights, economic rights, positive rights, negative rights, moral rights, basic rights – to name but a few.27 Our notion of constitutional rights emerging out of a contractual agreement among rational, self-interested individuals differs from many of these. To further illustrate the properties of these constitutional rights, we contrast them with natural or human rights.

A. Are There Natural or Human Rights? Richard Brandt opens his essay “Utilitarianism and Moral Rights” as follows: Virtually all philosophers now agree that human beings – and possibly the higher animals – have moral rights in some sense, both special rights against individuals to whom they stand in a special relation (such as a creditor’s right to collect from a debtor), and general rights, against everybody or against the government, just in virtue of their human nature. (Brandt, 1992, p. 196)

I challenge this claim. My disagreement may stem from being an economist and thus inherently a utilitarian. Brandt goes on to observe that “some philosophers also think, however, that anyone who is a utilitarian ought not to share this view” (ibid.). Brandt himself does not think this, however. We shall return to what Brandt thinks later, but first I wish to challenge the proposition that individuals possess rights “just in virtue of their human nature.” Although considerable ambiguity surrounds the terms natural and human rights, those using them presumably mean certain rights that everyone possesses simply by being a human being. Nature grants all humans a set of rights. To simplify the discussion, I treat human and natural rights as synonymous and refer to both as natural rights. To consider the proposition that humans possess certain rights just by being humans, as opposed to, say, being a citizen of a particular country, 27

For discussions of some of the various concepts of rights, see Hayek (1960, pp. 13–14, 19–20); Lyons (1982); Tarcov (1985); Hamlin (1986, pp. 52–7, 102–9).

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we must think of humans as being in a state of nature, where there are no explicit or even implicit social institutions and conventions that may provide them with certain rights. Conceptualizing such a state of nature is difficult; few of us has had any experience in such a state. We are born into societies with constitutions and laws, and our moral intuitions are formed by the mores, laws, and conventions with which we grow up. Even tribal societies have elaborate conventions and mores. How we would, let alone should treat others, if somehow thrust into a situation without laws or social conventions, is a difficult question to answer. To begin to answer it, there is no better place to start than with Thomas Hobbes and his account of the state of nature and the rights individuals have in it. For Hobbes, the first natural law was that each person has the right to do what is necessary to preserve his life. The right of nature . . . is the liberty each man hath to use his own power, as he will himself, for the preservation of his own nature; that is to say, of his own life; and consequently, of doing anything, which in his own judgment and reason, he shall conceive to be the aptest means thereunto. (Hobbes, [1651]1939, p. 163)

Every rat or dog, when cornered, fights furiously to save its life. A drowning human instinctively flails her arms and legs in an effort to save herself. Fighting to stay alive is not surprisingly genetically hardwired in all animals including humans. If nature does bestow rights upon us, then Hobbes is certainly correct in arguing that the first of these is the right to do that which we think necessary to stay alive. Now consider the following case. Jane’s cruise ship sinks. She is able to get into a rubber boat and take a few items with her, including a loaded rifle. After some days at sea, she lands on an island. While exploring it, she comes across a large cat approaching her along a narrow path. The cat is the size of a tiger with the coloring of a calico house cat. It might peacefully walk by, but if she waits until it is near, it could suddenly spring and would certainly kill her. If she raises her rifle immediately and shoots, she stands a good chance of killing the animal. What to do? My guess is that some people would not take a chance and would try to kill the cat, and some would not. Each choice would depend on estimates of how dangerous the cat is, and would certainly differ from one person to the next. A prudent person might well kill the cat. If Jane chose this option, I do not see how one could condemn her morally. Prudence when it comes to preserving one’s life cannot be immoral. Thus, a person cannot be faulted for acting prudently to protect her life in a state of nature.

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Now consider a slightly different example. Jane is again walking down the path with her rifle. Now, however, she sees a large man coming toward her. He is nearly naked and face and body are painted with strange designs. He carries a spear and large dagger. He might peacefully walk by her, but if he gets close, he could certainly overpower and kill her, and if she runs, he could easily kill her with his spear. If she shoots immediately, however, she stands a good chance of killing the man. What to do? Once again a prudent person might well shoot the strange man, and I do not believe one could fault her for doing so. Prudence in a life-threatening situation cannot be immoral. If the probability the man would kill her were judged to be as high or higher than the cat would, and she would kill the cat, she should kill the man. The fact that her life is threatened in the second situation by a human should not change Jane’s calculus or the underlying morality of her action. The man has no more right to life in this situation than the cat. Indeed, if she is a good student of history and human nature, Jane knows that she has much more to fear from the man than from the cat. The cat is only likely to attack if it is hungry or feels threatened. The man might attack for both of these reasons and many more. He might simply want to show off to his neighbors by hanging her head from a pole in front of his dwelling. In a state of nature, humans are generally more dangerous than animals. Thomas Hobbes recognized clearly that one cannot make moral judgments about individuals’ behavior in the state of nature. To this war of every man against every man, there also is consequent: that nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, have there no place. Where there is no common power, there is no law; where no law, no injustice. (Hobbes, [1651]1939, p. 162, emphasis in original)28

Here Hobbes not only asserts that humans have no rights in a state of nature, but also (as in our theory of constitutional rights) that the existence of rights depends on the existence of a state. Here it is worth recalling that something resembling the modern notion of individual rights first appears in the Roman Empire and was tied to Roman citizenship and the existence of Roman law and judicial system. 28

David Hume is skeptical of whether a time ever existed in which mankind’s living conditions were as Hobbes described the state of nature. He admits, however, “that, if such a state of mutual war and violence was ever real, the suspension of all laws of justice, from their absolute inutility, is a necessary and infallible consequence” (Hume, [1752]1957, p. 21).

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Now assume that Jane is walking down stairs in a crowded office building. She is alone and carries a loaded gun. As she turns a corner, she sees a woman coming toward her wearing a robe under which are bulges suggesting explosives are attached to her. If Jane cries for help or attempts to run, the woman could easily detonate the explosives killing Jane and many others in the building. If Jane fires her gun, she might be able to kill the woman before she can detonate the explosives. What to do? The likelihood that the bulges are explosives and that the woman would detonate them would be greater in Tel Aviv than in Topeka, Kansas, and thus Jane would probably be more likely to shoot if she were in Tel Aviv. Yet the events of September 2001 in the United States, March 2004 in Madrid, and July 2005 in London remind us that terrorists can attack anywhere. The fact that Jane is in a community with laws and police does not protect her from the attack. She and any would-be terrorist planning to kill her are effectively in a state of nature, and by Hobbes’s first law of nature, Jane has the right to use whatever means are necessary to protect her own life. Civil law offers no protection as she stands alone in front of the terrorist. Once again, Jane’s knowledge of human nature should, if anything, make her more leery of the woman, rather than less so, and would grant the woman no special right to life. The “Wild West” had some elements of a state of anarchy in which individuals had to protect their own lives. In old American Westerns, the good guy always lets the bad guy reach for his gun first, and then outdraws and kills the bad guy. Letting the other person reach for his gun first is not a dominant strategy for survival, however. If good guys are on average no faster on the draw than bad guys, then in the long run the West would be populated only by bad guys if the good ones always drew second. If a good guy expected that the bad guy was about to draw, it would be prudent to make the first move, and he would be no less good for doing so – and more likely to remain alive. Hobbes famously described life in the state of nature as “nasty, brutish, and short.” John Locke, in contrast, thought it far less nasty than Hobbes.29 The assumptions one makes about human nature will obviously affect probability calculations about whether other persons in a state of nature will do one harm. This is not the place for a lengthy discussion of human nature, however. Nor is one necessary. The recent terrorist attacks around the world remind us, less we forget, that some people willingly undertake brutish acts that shorten many people’s lives – even at the cost of their own. 29

John Locke ([1690b]1939, pp. 404–9).

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If one confronts these people in a state of nature, considerable prudence is required, and it is difficult to see why they possess any rights just by being members of the same animal species. We conclude that being human gives one no greater claim on life in a state of nature than any other animal has. When thrust into a true state of nature, each person is justified in doing what is deemed necessary to stay alive. The salient difference between humans and other animals is not that they possess some special rights because they are human, but rather that because they are human they possess the ability to reason and communicate with other humans and can thus reach agreements – contracts – that lift them out of the state of nature, as Hobbes so convincingly argued. The rights we have as humans are defined by our agreements with fellow humans. They exist only to the extent that the humans joined in contract honor these rights, and have created institutions to protect and enforce them. This, in fact, turns out to be Brandt’s position with respect to whether utilitarianism and the notion of human rights are compatible. For Brandt (1992, pp. 199, 212), a human’s rights are defined by the moral code of the society in which an individual lives. Thus, Brandt places individuals not in a state of nature in which their human nature defines their rights, but in a society whose moral code defines their rights. For a moral code to achieve this goal, it must be known to all members of the society and accepted and agreed to by them, implicitly if not formally. Thus, human rights for Brandt are a product of a form of implicit, if not explicit social contract, and thus not far removed from the constitutional rights described here.

B. The Relative Nature of Constitutional Rights Once Again If natural rights did exist, then one feature of them would presumably be that they are universal. If we possess these rights simply by being human, then all humans must possess the same rights. This property of natural rights makes them quite different from the constitutional rights defined by our theory. In this section, I explore this difference. To begin, let us assume hypothetically that humans do possess universal natural rights.30 Consider life as a natural right. It is certainly plausible that any society would draft constitutional rules that protect individual lives in some way. However, will all societies agree on a single set of rules for protecting an 30

For a discussion of basic (i.e., natural) rights that argues that they too are relative, see Lomasky (1987, pp. 101–5).

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individual’s natural right to life? If Russian citizens had participated in a constitution-drafting process after the fall of Communism, one could well imagine them protecting an individual’s right to life by forbidding the state from executing a person regardless of what crime the individual had committed, because under Communism the state had deprived many Russians of their lives. Russians had more to fear from the state than from their fellow citizens. Capital punishment came close to disappearing in the United States after World War II. Yet as crime rates increased during the 1970s and 1980s, Americans began to fear their neighbors more than the state. In many states, the belief arose that the death penalty was an effective deterrent against certain crimes endangering other lives, and citizens in these states demanded greater use of capital punishment as a way of saving the lives of innocent citizens. Even if two societies both maintain that their members have a natural right to life, the ways they protect this right in their laws and constitutions might be quite different. Explicit constitutional protection of life by allowing or disallowing the death penalty would depend, among other things, on beliefs regarding the efficacy of capital punishment as a means of reducing crime and trust in the state to enforce the laws impartially. The belief that humans possess a natural right to life provides little if any insight into how life should be protected in practice, and thus is no help in institutionalizing that right. Because the definition of a right implies the liberty to commit or refrain from committing an action, no constitution that defines any rights can fail to protect some liberty. When one drops below this level of generality, however, one again finds considerable variation in the specific liberties societies choose to protect and how they protect them. Here one can cite numerous examples dealing with relationships between the sexes. A liberal society might well guarantee adults the freedom to have voluntary sexual relationships with other adults; with persons of the same sex; the freedom to end a marriage by voluntary consent; to prevent a pregnancy using a birth-control device; to end a pregnancy by an abortion. Each of these actions can have large welfare effects on individuals and might well justify constitutional protection under our theory of constitutional rights. In each case, however, examples of communities can be cited that have prohibited these actions. Thus, once one pushes beyond a general and vague definition of “natural rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and attempts to determine specific statements of rights that would actually be written into a constitution, these statements can be expected to differ from society to society.

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C. Natural Rights as “Trumps” of Constitutional Rights Many not only believe that individuals possess natural rights, but also that judges should take them into account and trump constitutional rights and ordinary laws when the two come into conflict.31 In other words, if the constitution states that a person has a right to do X, but a judge believes that if the person exercises this right he would violate a second person’s natural right, then the judge should set aside the first person’s constitutional right in favor of the second’s natural right. Natural rights are of a higher order and should trump constitutional rights when the two conflict. This argument is problematic. The existence of natural rights and their proper treatment by the judiciary have figured in deliberations over Supreme Court appointments. One instance arose during Senate hearings regarding Clarence Thomas’ nomination. Although Thomas’ sexual interests later dominated the hearings, at the beginning there was considerable concern about his views on natural rights or natural law. The Senate Judiciary, which is charged with approving presidential appointees to the Supreme Court, was then chaired by Senator Joseph Biden, who expressed these concerns: Clarence Thomas’s nomination to the Supreme Court has generated controversy in part because he endorses a natural-law philosophy. The debate over the proper role of natural-law thinking in the interpretation of the Constitution does not break down on ideological grounds; it is not an argument between liberals and conservatives. Though this debate dates back to the Framers, it is as current as the controversy over Robert Bork’s failed nomination. No issue divided Judge Bork and me as much as this single question: Are there fundamental rights – not explicit in the Constitution – that are protected by that document? My answer to that question, relying on principles of natural law, was an emphatic “yes” – a view that Judge Thomas, who has sharply criticized Judge Bork’s original-intent jurisprudence, appears to share. But to say that Clarence Thomas and I stand on the same side of the natural-law divide is not to say that his Supreme Court nomination is one I can certainly support. For there are a wide range of philosophies that fit under the rubric of “natural law” or “natural justice.” (Biden, 1991, p. C1)

Both Biden and Thomas believe that people possess natural rights, but they appear to disagree fundamentally as to what these rights are. Because natural rights – if they existed – should be universal, one would expect after centuries of debate that by now everyone who believes in natural rights would have discovered what they are and agreed on their definitions. 31

Ronald Dworkin (1977) has made the term trump popular with respect to rights.

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That two advocates of natural rights can fundamentally disagree on these definitions calls into question the very existence of a set of universal natural rights. More importantly for the question at hand, it seriously undermines the argument that a judge’s personal conception of natural rights should be allowed to determine outcomes of cases that come before her. To see the difficulty, consider a judicial conflict that arises from time to time. A couple contracts with a woman to serve as a surrogate host for their fertilized ovum, because the wife is incapable of conceiving and having a child. When the baby is born, the surrogate mother turns it over to the couple and receives a payment for her services. Such contracts can clearly make all parties better off. The couple gets their child, the surrogate mother receives compensation. From time to time, however, the surrogate mother refuses to give the child up. The couple goes to court. Some judges honor the contract, but others perceive the woman who bore the child to have a natural right to it and award it to her. This use of the concept of natural rights is troubling, because it introduces uncertainty about contract enforcement. Contracts exist to reduce uncertainty. In a world of perfect certainty, we would know which people can be trusted and which not, and we would not need to write contracts. Contracts have value because they reduce uncertainty and thus facilitate cooperation benefiting all parties to them. Courts play an important role in improving community welfare by enforcing contracts, and thereby ensuring the benefits from them. If some judges are like Bork and enforce only those rights, which are explicit in the Constitution or the laws of the country, and others set aside these rights in favor of their personal interpretation of natural rights, uncertainty enters the contract-writing process. A couple wishing to contract with a woman to be a surrogate mother will not know, if she refuses to hand over the child, whether they will have a judge who honors the contract or not. The attractiveness of these contracts is reduced, fewer will be written, and society loses the benefits that the unwritten contracts would have created. Note that this problem would disappear if everyone agreed on a single set of natural rights. Then natural rights could be written into the Constitution and everyone would know what their rights are. As the quote from Senator Biden makes clear, however, no agreement over the definition of natural rights exists, which is why the concept of natural rights is not helpful in determining what rights individuals in a community actually have.

VIII. Economic Entitlements as Constitutional Rights Many argue that in addition to negative rights like free speech, individuals should have positive rights to subsistence levels of food and shelter, medical

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care, and the like. Economic entitlements such as these can be justified as constitutional rights using our theory of rights. Imagine again people writing a constitution who are uncertain about the future. Each knows that some of them will become handicapped and unable to earn an income adequate for their basic needs. Others will need life-saving medical treatments that they cannot afford. One possibility would be to treat each such event as a special case and take a vote on whether X should be allowed a kidney transplant financed by a small tax on the community; or whether Y, who is blind, can be provided with a seeing-eye dog. With modest altruism in the community, or a sense of Rawlsian justice, it might unanimously choose to provide these transfers each time such a situation arose. Rather than voting on each case as it arises, the community could save considerable time by creating constitutional rights to minimum-income transfers and medical care for those meeting certain criteria. Such positive rights would have the same characteristics as other constitutional rights. The loss to someone denied a life-saving operation would be very large relative to the small losses imposed on the rest of the community to pay for the operation. Either the uncertainty inherent in long-run constitutional choices or self-imposed Rawlsian uncertainty would suffice to induce communities to define certain economic entitlements as constitutional rights. Such entitlements would constitute a form of social insurance, and like all insurance schemes, would be vulnerable to moral hazard problems. If properly administered, however, a minimal set of positive rights in the constitution could meet the criterion of benefiting all of its members ex ante.

IX. Cosmopolitanism and Universal Rights Several philosophers have used the concepts of natural and human rights to argue for the existence of a set of universal rights that entitles people in poor countries to basic levels of food, clothing, shelter, and other essential needs, and morally obligates persons in rich countries to transfer resources to the poor countries so that the poor in these countries can exercise their universal rights. The logic underlying this argument is related to both the issue of natural rights discussed earlier, and to cosmopolitan proposals regarding immigration discussed later, so we briefly examine it here.

A. Why Cosmopolitan Rights? Somewhat surprisingly, most advocates of cosmopolitanism devote little or no space to answering this question. Thomas Pogge (2002), for example,

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begins an essay on cosmopolitanism by asserting, “Socio-economic rights, such as the universal entitlement ‘to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of oneself and one’s family, including food, clothing, housing, and medical care,’ are currently, and by far, the most frequently violated human rights.” Nowhere in the essay is a logical argument presented showing that such rights exist. The opening statement can either be interpreted as implying that the existence of universal, socioeconomic rights is so obvious that they need not be defended, or that they exist because the UN General Assembly says they exist, the quote within the quote having come from the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Henry Shue (1996, p. 18) defines “basic rights [as] everyone’s minimum reasonable demands upon the rest of the community.” He then justifies his claim that humans have a basic right to security as follows: “If we had to justify our belief that people have basic rights to physical security to someone who challenged this fundamental conviction, we could in fact give a strong argument, which shows that if there are any rights (basic or nonbasic) at all, there are basic rights to physical security,” because without physical security one cannot exercise any of one’s other rights.32 The same logic is used to justify subsistence rights.33 Shue seems to believe that his argument for rights to physical security and subsistence really needs no justification. The justification, such as it is, rests on the premise that some sorts of basic or human rights exist – a supposition which itself is never justified. Charles Jones (1999, p. 55) is more forthright: “There is no sound argument – in the sense of an argument whose conclusion follows from the true premises by way of a deductively valid inference – for the claim that there are human rights to the protection of vital interests.” He, like other defenders of cosmopolitanism and natural rights, simply assumes that their existence is self-evident. The theory of constitutional rights developed earlier does, however, rest on premises – that people seek to advance their welfare, that good social institutions advance all citizens’ welfare – and logical arguments that can be debated and, I believe, defended. There are basically three justifications for assuming that humans – qua humans – possess certain innate rights. First, one might argue that they possess these rights because they are sentient beings who can suffer pain and experience joy. We know this from our own experience and can generalize to other humans. Indeed, we can easily generalize to all warm-blooded animals and perhaps even to cold-blooded ones. It is apparent that dogs 32 33

Shue (1996, p. 21). Shue (1996, pp. 22–3).

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and cats suffer pain and pleasure, and in many ways they are more deserving than humans. Far more Americans are killed by humans than by dogs or cats. Brandt’s speculation that “other higher animals” may possess rights is difficult to reject if sentience determines basic rights. However, then we must address the question of how high an animal must be to possess these basic rights? A second justification for human rights would be that humans are capable of rational thought and moral reasoning. This common bond obligates people in rich countries to feed and clothe people in poor countries so they can develop their powers of reasoning. There are two problems with this justification. First, the fact that humans are capable of rational thought does not imply that all humans behave rationally. As argued later, part of the explanation for poverty in certain parts of the world is that people have not behaved rationally and undertaken simple measures to alleviate it. Second, humans can use their powers of reasoning for good or evil. The acts of 9/11 were well thought out. Children in some poor countries are taught to hate the West and blame it for their poverty. Some will become the next generation of terrorists. Does the rich West have a moral obligation to feed and clothe them despite their hatred for and threat to the West? While one might argue that caring for poor children within a Western country reduces the probability that they later turn to crime, one cannot make this argument across national borders because rich donor countries have little control over school curricula, news media, and other sources of information in recipient countries. The mere capacity for rational thought does not make someone a deserving person. The third justification for treating humans differently is religious. Humans are God’s creations, possess souls, and thus deserve special treatment. If one accepts the premises, this is the tightest argument of all. Needless to say, cosmopolitan philosophers do not advance this line of argument. Implicitly, however, there is a residual element of this thinking behind their position. The original proponents of natural rights, like John Locke, saw them as God-given, and the Catholic Church has no problem accepting the existence of natural rights even today. The first two arguments for human rights – emphasizing either the physical, sentient characteristics of humans or their psychic characteristics – resemble the religious dichotomy between body and soul. If one accepts this dichotomy, then humans are truly special and warrant special consideration. If one rejects the dichotomy, on the other hand, it is difficult to see why humans – by their very nature – deserve special attention.

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B. The Morality of International Transfers to Reduce World Poverty When arguing that people in rich countries have a moral obligation to help people in poor countries, cosmopolitans often depict redistribution as small transfers from rich adults in the West to poor children in Africa or other developing countries. In an oft-cited piece, Singer (1972) likens helping the poor in developing countries to an adult’s wading into a pond to rescue an infant baby – small cost to the adult, great benefit to the baby. Now consider the following case. Jane lands on an island as before, and while exploring it encounters Jack and Jill, also survivors of the shipwreck. Each has learned to gather food and make shelter. Jane is very adept at these activities and can, on a typical day, quit work after six hours, and then swim and relax. Jack and Jill, however, are less adept and must work from dawn to dusk. Often they go hungry and are tottering on the brink of survival. They inform Jane that they possess universal human rights to subsistence levels of food and these morally obligate Jane to gather food for them. Jane begins to work an additional hour each day to feed Jack and Jill. Ten months later, Jill has a baby. She and Jack complain to Jane that they now have even less time to gather food and there is another mouth to feed, a mouth that also possesses a universal human right to subsistence. Jane begins to work yet another hour per day. A year later, Jill has a second child and she and Jack increase their demands on Jane. In a few years, Jane is working from dawn to dusk to feed the ever-growing family of Jack and Jill. My moral intuition says that at some point Jane loses her moral obligation to feed Jack and Jill and their children – assuming she had one in the first place. Alternatively, one might argue that Jack and Jill, in accepting food from Jane, have an implicit moral obligation to limit the number of their children. Returning to Singer’s example, we might ask how the baby got into the pond. Did its parents throw it in because they would not or could not care for it? If they were unable to care for it properly, why did they have the baby in the first place? Should other parents who do not wish to or are unable to care for their babies toss them into the pond, does the passerby have a moral obligation to rescue each and every one of them? In describing the world poverty problem, cosmopolitans typically focus, as Singer did, on children as victims of poverty and implicitly assume that transfers from rich countries rescue children from poverty. Although the moral obligations of people in rich countries are stressed, no mention is made of the moral obligations of the parents of the poor children. If it is wrong to allow a child to suffer malnutrition because of poverty, is it not

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wrong to bring it into the world if it is destined to live in poverty? Is the moral burden not greater on the adults in poor countries who choose to have children they cannot support than it is on persons living in other countries with no control over the number of children being born into poverty? In African countries like Angola and the Republic of Congo, some parents identify their children as witches so that they can abandon or even kill them rather than having to raise them.34 This behavior undermines the logical foundations of the cosmopolitans’ argument. They advocate transfers from rich to poor countries, on the grounds that all humans are alike and part of some global social contract. Yet, some targets of this help do not feel that they have a moral obligation not to kill or abandon their own children. Certainly, the morally responsible action of people in poverty in Africa would be to not have the children in the first place rather than have them and then abandon or kill them.

C. Combating World Poverty Remarkably, cosmopolitans devote little if any space to population growth in developing countries or to the moral responsibilities of people in these countries. In defending cosmopolitanism, for example, Jones (1999, pp. 106–7) mentions population growth only when critiquing another’s work, and devotes less than a page to the topic. Pogge (2002, p. 55, n. 46) mentions it only in a footnote quoting Rawls; Miller (2002) not at all.35 The rational response to a fall in income is to have fewer children if one is concerned about the welfare of one’s children. The U.S. birthrate declined dramatically during the Great Depression as it did in the former Soviet Union in the first years following the collapse of Communism. People in these countries made rational responses to changes in their circumstances. An obvious and direct way to combat poverty in developing countries is for people to have fewer children. Africa’s population in 2000 was roughly 820 million people, of which some 44 percent lived in poverty. In 1950, its population was only 224 million.36 If Africa’s population had remained unchanged since 1950, and the percent in poverty were the same as in 2000, 34 35 36

LaFraniere (2007). Shue (1996, pp. 91–110) devotes twenty pages to discussing why starvation should not be allowed as a means of controlling population growth, a policy that I am not advocating. Population figures are from United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) website, http://www.uneca.org/fssdd/programme overview/population/africa. htm. Poverty figure is from UNECA, Economic Report on Africa, 1999, website, http://www. uneca.org/search home.htm.

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262 million fewer Africans would have lived in poverty in 2000. If Africa’s population had remained unchanged, however, poverty would most certainly have declined. With reduced population growth, the fraction of the population of working age increases and with it incomes per capita. Any country that reduces its birthrate by 50 percent can spend twice as much per child on education, even when education’s share of national product remains unchanged. If population growth in poor countries had been slower over the last fifty years, world poverty today would be dramatically lower. Some argue that population is difficult to control because of cultural and religious factors and low education levels. One does not need a Ph.D. in biology, however, to know where babies come from and how to prevent them. Indeed, examples exist of primitive tribes that succeeded in controlling their populations to avoid outstripping available food sources.37 Contraceptives are generally available today even in poor countries – or at least could be, if their governments did not interfere with their distribution by Western agencies. Population growth can be curbed if people wish to do so. To the extent that culture and religion explain high population growth in poor countries, the argument that people in rich countries have a moral obligation to make transfers to these countries is undercut. Religious extremists – be they Jews, Christians, or Muslims – have significantly larger families than those with less religious zeal.38 In some countries, girls receive little education because their role in life is to have and raise large numbers of children. These choices sustain poverty. If it is immoral to allow children to exist without proper food, clothing, or medical care, then any culture or religion that sustains this poverty must be immoral. If religious morality is a major cause of large numbers of children living in poverty, why does this impose a moral responsibility on others to counteract the moral choices of a people? Moreover, attempts to eliminate this poverty are likely to be ineffective, because without changing the culture or religion of a country, any children saved today will simply father or mother more children into poverty tomorrow. Many cosmopolitans appear to assume that wealth, like manna, falls from heaven and for that matter so too, do children. Rich countries in what is often referred to as the North have been blessed with a lot of manna and relatively few children; countries in the South have been cursed with little manna and lots of children. Thus, Jones (1999, p. 73) asserts, “the location of the 37 38

Three such cases are described by Douglas (1966). Economist, November 3, 2007, p. 9.

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world’s valuable resources is a matter of brute luck, so that it seems patently unfair that some people should flourish while others languish simply as a consequence of the differential control of resources. The implication . . . is that national rights to wealth and resources, however commonly they are asserted, lack any coherent moral basis. What seems particularly evident is that the beneficiaries of national rights are thoroughly undeserving of the special benefits they receive.” The claim that some people flourish because their country was lucky enough to have a fat chunk of the world’s resources is flat wrong, however. Japan has little mineral resources or even arable land, and yet it has become one of the world’s richest countries. It owes its wealth to the industriousness of its people and the quality of its institutions. Following World War II, for example, Japan adopted policies, such as liberal rules regarding abortions, which led to much lower population growth than in many of its Asian neighbors. This, in turn, allowed the Japanese to invest heavily in the children they did have, and produced a highly productive work force. Great Britain is also an island without unusual amounts of natural resources; Holland has virtually none at all. Both became wealthy because of the quality of their institutions and the industriousness of their people.39 Some of the luckiest countries in the world in terms of natural resources are the oil-rich countries of the Middle East, Nigeria, and Venezuela. None of these countries has done much to curb its population growth or to introduce institutions that will sustain economic growth. Consequently, most Nigerians and Venezuelans still live in poverty, and most Middle East countries can be expected to sink back into poverty once the oil runs out, which in some countries is not too far off. Table 11.1 reports the populations of seven countries in 2005, and the ratios of their 2005 to 1950 populations. In 2005, Japan’s population was only 1.5 times its 1950 level. China, which took rather drastic steps to control population, has the second lowest growth rate in the table. In contrast, Muslim Pakistan and partially Muslim Nigeria have 2005 populations roughly four times their l950 levels with Catholic Brazil having a ratio of 3.5. These differences are not the result of “brute luck,” and go a long way toward explaining why Japan is a rich country today, why China has one of the fastest growing economies, and why Pakistan, Nigeria, and large parts of Brazil remain in poverty. Indeed, despite reasonable economic 39

The importance of institutional quality for economic growth has been stressed by Douglass North (1990).

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Table 11.1. Population growth in seven countries

Country

2005 population in millions

Ratio of 2005 to 1950 population

Japan China Indonesia India Brazil Pakistan Nigeria

128 1316 223 1103 186 158 132

1.52 2.34 2.70 2.98 3.50 4.05 4.13

Sources: Statistics Bureau, MIC, United Nations; http://unstats.un .org/unsd/demographic/.

growth recently, poverty in Pakistan has actually been increasing, unlike in other Asian countries, because of the country’s failure to control its population.40 The idea that a set of universal human rights obligates people in rich countries to help the starving poor in other countries is unhelpful for eliminating world poverty, because it implies that the burden of this task falls on the rich countries and the helpless poor need do nothing themselves to solve the problem other than exercise their rights. Over the last sixty years, the West has poured some $2.3 trillion in aid into Africa – not exactly a measly sum. Yet in many African countries the funds have had no impact on poverty, because they have been wasted on grandiose, ill-conceived giant projects; dissipated through bureaucratic inefficiency; ciphered off through bureaucratic corruption; or simply stolen by politicians.41 Western aid will reduce poverty in developing countries only if it is conditional on their undertaking institutional reforms to make the aid effective – population control, enforceable property rights and market institutions, education, and control of corruption – to name the most obvious. Any country unwilling to take the necessary steps to eliminate poverty should be denied aid. Although this seems brutal, sixty years of experience should by now have taught the West that lavishing aid on countries with corrupt or incompetent 40 41

Economist, August 11, 2007. The $2.3 trillion figure is from Easterly (2006, p. 11). His book chronicles the many reasons why foreign aid has been so ineffective in Africa. See also, the discussion and many references to studies of the failure of international aid programs in Wenar (2003).

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governments, which do not take the necessary steps for successful economic growth, is pointless.42

X. Constitutional Rights, Moral Rights, and Unanimity David Lyons has drawn a distinction between moral and legal rights, and emphasized “that merely legal rights have no moral force.”43 Because a constitutional right is a form of legal right, there may be a gain in contrasting constitutional and moral rights as defined by Lyons. It is certainly true that moral rights need not be legal rights. If a father promises his teenage daughter a new car if she gets straight As on her report card, and then fails to buy her one even though she gets all As, most people would think that the girl has a moral right to the car but presumably not a legal one. Conversely, however, I believe that legal rights can have moral force. Promise keeping is part of most if not all ethical systems.44 If a person keeps her promises because of her ethical principles, then she must regard adhering to a constitutional contract to which she is a party as the morally correct thing to do. The unanimous agreement out of which a constitutional contract arises gives a moral weight to its provisions, which to a considerable degree is independent of the reasoning of its drafters that led to the agreement.45 Thomas Hobbes recognized the importance of promise keeping in lifting humans out of the state of nature into civilized society through the creation of a social contract: From that law of nature by which we are obliged to transfer to another such rights as, being retained, hinder the peace of mankind, there followeth a third; which is this, that men perform their covenants made: without which, covenants are in vain, and but empty words; and the right of all men to all things remaining, we are still in the condition of war. (Hobbes, [1651]1939, p. 168, emphasis in original)

The moral commitment inherent in the unanimous agreement at the constitutional stage may also carry over to legal rights created in the postconstitutional stage. If unanimous agreement was reached on the method for electing representatives and the parliamentary voting rule, then in joining the constitutional contract individuals commit themselves to honoring all legal rights created by parliamentary action, regardless of whether their 42 43 44 45

Easterly (2006) presents many suggestions for how foreign aid in Africa could be made more effective. Lyons (1982, p. 113, emphasis in the original). Lyons (1982, p. 108) mentions “promise keeping” as a moral action. Thus, individualism is a normative underpinning for many contractarian theories as, for example, Buchanan and Tullock (1962) and Rawls (1971).

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own moral positions are represented by the winning majority’s view. The ethical legitimacy of these legal rights stems not from their having received a winning parliamentary majority, but from the unanimous agreement to which every individual was a part that created the parliament and granted it the authority to define legal rights.46 When she agreed, at the constitutional stage, to the political institutions that would write future laws, she implicitly agreed to obey these laws. Not to obey because she thinks a law is immoral would itself be immoral, because it would break the promise made at the constitutional stage. A right created by a simple majority vote in the postconstitutional stage is less secure than one protected by the constitution, because it can be taken away by a majority vote. However, until that day comes, these rights do have a certain moral claim to citizen compliance, stemming from the consensual agreement that established the procedures that brought it about. These arguments illustrate the importance of unanimous agreement on the definitions of rights and other provisions in the constitution. If all citizens literally agree to a constitution, then this agreement adds moral force to its provisions and thereby strengthens individual commitments to comply with these provisions.47 Citizens can actively participate in drafting or amending a constitution by either electing representatives to periodic constitutional conventions48 or voting directly on amendments to it. The potential cost of not periodically renewing the constitutional agreement is a weakening of the citizens’ sense of obligation to it, as it becomes increasingly out of touch with the polity’s social and economic structure. The citizen feels less responsibility to uphold and abide by the constitution because (1) it does not contain provisions to which the individual would today agree, if given the opportunity, and thus does not command his support due to its inherent justness and efficiency and (2) the time at which agreement was reached is so remote that the citizen does not feel that he in any meaningful sense (e.g., through the actions of his ancestors) participated in its creation.49 The same sort of alienation can arise when a constitution is altered over time by judicial decree if a citizen feels that his views are not fairly represented by the judges, or if he objects to the constitutional provision that 46 47 48 49

See discussion by Hart (1961, pp. 97–107). Compliance was one of the important goals Rawls hoped to achieve from the unanimous agreement to the social contract in the original position (1971, pp. 112 ff., 344–8). Although this suggestion will strike many readers as rather novel, it is a proposal once advanced by Thomas Jefferson ([1816]1944). See Buchanan (1975).

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grants the judiciary this authority. When such alienation occurs, the constitution fails to accomplish its fundamental objective of minimizing the transaction costs of reaching agreements and resolving conflicts in the postconstitutional society. Existing political institutions do, of course, determine how the current political process operates, and existing definitions of rights determine the boundaries at which judicial and legislative haggling takes place. However, if these institutions and boundaries are inferior to those that could and would be agreed to today, then they will fail to command the respect and voluntary compliance of today’s citizenry, and thereby fail to minimize the resources expended to resolve conflicts and reach mutually beneficial collective decisions. Yet is it really possible to reach a consensus over a particular set of rights? What happens if a consensus fails to be reached? We offer three partial answers to these questions. First, the long-run nature of constitutional provisions does introduce uncertainty over future outcomes and helps reduce disagreement among citizens at the constitutional stage.50 Second, the original constitution is a package of institutions, not a single, potentially divisive issue. As such it contains great scope for compromise and consensus. If some citizens object to parts of the constitution, then other parts have to be tailored to win their support, as occurred when the Bill of Rights was added to the U.S. Constitution. Not having a set of political institutions for achieving the collective goals of the community should be sufficiently unattractive to encourage agreement on some compromise package of constitutional provisions. Note that this consideration favors holding new constitutional conventions periodically to consider modifying the constitution. It may be easier to agree to a whole new package of constitutional provisions than to a single change, because the formulation of a new package opens up more opportunities for compromise. Lastly, it must be stressed that consensus should not be thought of as a 0/1 variable like pregnancy. A constitution can have more or less consensual support. Of course, once a constitution can be enacted over the opposition of part of the community, the possibility arises that these dissenters will be discriminated against. Moreover, they may not feel bound by constitutional rules to which they did not consent and thus pose a noncompliance threat to the community. Yet discriminatory actions against 49 percent of a community can generally be expected to result in greater welfare losses 50

See Buchanan and Tullock (1962, pp. 77–80). Rawls (1971) argues that consensus on the attributes of the social contract will be achieved as a result of a self-imposed uncertainty over future positions that occurs when individuals voluntarily place themselves in an original position of equality behind a veil of ignorance.

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than against 10 percent. Noncompliance with constitutional rules by 49 percent of a community poses a greater threat to its viability than does noncompliance by 1 or even 10 percent. The greater the majority required to ratify the initial constitution or change it, the fewer future conflicts and lower future decision-making costs one should anticipate. All benefits from citizens agreeing on a constitution do not disappear as soon as one citizen’s consent is not forthcoming. When a constitution was ratified a long time ago, one might argue that the notion that it forms a constitutional contract binding today’s citizens is false. Obviously, today’s citizens did not participate in writing the constitution, but they are aware of its existence. If they disagree with some provisions, they can try to change them or, if their disagreement is strong enough, migrate to a different country. Although migration is costly, it is not prohibitively costly, and millions of people move to other countries every year. Anyone who stays in a country implicitly accepts its constitution if there are no legal barriers to leaving. The choice facing a citizen in a country with a constitution is much like the choice facing a person in a state of anarchy who must decide whether to accept a proposed constitution. The person may not consider the proposed constitution to be the best he can think of, but if it is the best constitution to which a consensus can be reached – and living under it is better than living in anarchy – then he should vote for it. Similarly, if a country’s constitution is not the best a citizen can conceive of but there is no other country with a better constitution, the citizen should remain where he is, try to change the constitution, and comply with it until it is changed, in the same way he would if he had participated in its ratification.

XI. Conclusions No difference between humans and other animals is more important than humans’ capacity to reason and communicate with one another. Yet this difference conveys no special rights to act nor obligations to allow others to act. The ability to reason and communicate simply makes it possible for humans to reach agreements that define rights and obligations. Any rights we have stem from these agreements. I cannot write a contract with a bear, and thus a bear has no rights with respect to me nor I with respect to it. I can contract with other humans. Being human is thus a necessary condition for having rights, but not a sufficient one. Only if and when humans exercise their capacity to write contracts defining rights do rights emerge. Agreement to a constitutional contract raises the expectation that other members of

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the community will honor my rights and obligates me to honor theirs. Moreover, because constitutional rights have been explicitly defined, all of the community knows what their rights are, which aids compliance. There is no reason to expect someone not party to the contract to either honor my explicit constitutional rights or any implicit rights of mine. Because we have not agreed on what our rights are, it is not even clear that her conception of rights, if she has one, is the same as mine. Absent an explicit agreement, neither I nor she has reason to expect the other would honor our rights, even if by chance we agreed on what these rights are. The notion that individuals have rights is closely tied to the idea of a social contract. The social contract creates the state; the state protects individual rights to property and person. This conception of the state emerged out of Renaissance thinking in the work of Grotius, Hobbes, and Locke. The list of rights was extended during the Enlightenment to include free speech, freedom of conscience, and the many other freedoms we associate with liberal democracy. The importance of embedding rights in a social contract is nicely illustrated by the debate between the Federalists and anti-Federalists over whether the U.S. Constitution needed an explicitly defined set of individual rights. If individuals are born with natural rights, then no explicit listing of these rights is necessary because they are implicit in the Constitution’s protection of the individual. The anti-Federalists wisely rejected this argument and luckily succeeded in adding an explicit list of rights to the Constitution. The presence of this Bill of Rights in the U.S. Constitution explains why individual freedoms have received greater protection in the United States over the past two centuries than anywhere else in the world. The modern, liberal democratic state emerged out of the Enlightenment. The difference between modernity and traditionalism is readily apparent when one contrasts the options available to individuals in modern, liberal democracies and traditional societies. In the latter, custom and tradition determine most life choices for individuals. Sons follow the trades of their fathers; daughters marry the men chosen for them by their parents; women defer to men; all defer to the local priests and chiefs or, in more structured traditional societies, to the pharaoh or king, who is god’s representative or perhaps a god himself. Today, some societies seem very modern, while others remain quite traditional. These differences create no difficulties so long as the two types of societies remain separated. Yet such separation is impossible today, so largely traditional societies must wrestle with problems associated with modernity and modern societies with traditionalism. Religion is perhaps the strongest bulwark of traditionalism. By protecting religions, all modern,

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liberal democracies ensure that elements of traditionalism survive within them. Inevitably, traditionalism and modernity must clash. The conflict between the state and the Amish community in Wisconsin was a vivid example of such a clash. Amish adults wished to ensure that their children continued to live by the traditional customs and mores of their community. This necessitated that the children be denied the knowledge necessary to choose a different life plan. So strong is the attraction of traditionalism in the United States that the Supreme Court decided in favor of the Amish parents. The conflict between Amish parents wishing to preserve their traditional way of life and the modern state wishing to have an educated citizenry illustrates how dramatically these two ways of life differ and also the importance of constitutionally defined rights for protecting individual freedoms. The Supreme Court’s decision did protect a minority against a majority, although at the expense of another minority – the Amish children. The human struggle from the Greeks through the Renaissance and Enlightenment and up until today has been to free individuals from superstition and ignorance, and allow them to exercise their powers of reason. The Supreme Court denied Amish children this freedom. Democratic institutions are relatively easy to introduce – register voters, set up polling booths, count votes. Accordingly, democracies have appeared in great number over the last quarter century – in former members of the Soviet Union and its satellites, Latin America, Asia, and Africa. Independent judiciaries with the competence and authority to protect individual liberties by enforcing constitutional rights are, however, much more difficult to establish and protect from tyrannous majorities. Thus, many new democracies, like Putin’s Russia and Chavez’s Venezuela, have not become liberal democracies. Indeed, even in the mature democracies of Europe and North America, parliamentary majorities remain ever ready to trample on individual liberties to please agitated majorities.

TWELVE

Education, Citizenship, Immigration, and Democracy

And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country. (John F. Kennedy, Inaugural Address, January 20, 1961)

A well-functioning liberal democracy requires political institutions that transform the stated preferences of citizens into policies, which advance community welfare; a set of constitutional rights and impartial judiciary, which protects individual liberties from the state; and well-informed and intelligent citizens who espouse the values of liberal democracy and exercise their duties as citizens conscientiously. The previous two chapters have discussed the first two requirements; in this chapter we take up the third. The task of ensuring that those born in a country become well-informed, intelligent citizens who espouse the values of liberal democracy falls on its education system. The task of ensuring that those who enter a country have these characteristics falls to its immigration policy. This chapter takes up both issues.

I. Why State Education? Why should the state finance education? School doors, like movie theaters’ doors, can be closed and admission fees charged. Thus, education can easily be supplied as a pure private good. Because states everywhere finance and usually directly supply education, this might seem like a silly question. However, upon reflection it becomes less obvious why the state ought to supply education. Most readers of this book probably had a free education for a part of their lives. Do these readers think that their parents would have paid for their education if the state had not provided one free? Here it should be recognized that with the state not providing education, parents 316

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would have had more after-tax income to pay for education. Most readers probably came from middle or higher income groups, and thus their parents would have been aware of the value of an education. Indeed, this is likely true for 90 percent or more of parents in rich, developed countries. Thus, 90 percent of children in these countries would receive an education, even if the state did not supply one for free. State provision of free education to all children is thus a very expensive way to reach the roughly 10 percent who might not otherwise receive an education. If the reason some parents would not pay for their children’s education is that they are poor, then statefunded vouchers targeted at poor households would eliminate the problem of some children not receiving an education, while allowing parents who can afford to educate their children the freedom to choose the kind of schools and education that they want. Education would be provided as a private good and competition among schools could produce the same benefits all competition produces – better education at lower costs.1 An argument for state-supplied education can be made if education has either positive or negative externalities. When choosing their children’s education, parents might not consider the effects of their choice on the rest of the community. If state support for education brings with it state control over curricula, then the state can design these curricula to internalize any externalities associated with education. Education can produce three types of positive externalities. First, some kinds of education make individuals more productive workers. Everyone benefits from living in a community with highly productive workers, because their higher incomes allow them to pay larger fractions of the costs of public services, thereby lowering everyone’s tax burden. Their high productivity also lowers the costs of private goods, thereby raising living standards. The main beneficiary from an increase in a person’s productivity is, however, the person herself. It allows her to demand a higher salary. Thus, most parents would be likely to invest in their children’s educations to make them productive workers, and there would not be much underinvestment in education due to the first externality. This first argument for compulsory and state-supported primary education was prominent in the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries when incomes were much lower and the working class did not appreciate the value of education. It carries much less weight today in rich countries, where the value of education is obvious to nearly all parents. 1

For evidence that private schools are more efficient at providing education, see Chubb and Moe (1990).

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Second, everyone in a democracy can benefit from their neighbors’ education if it makes them better citizens, better in the sense that they become more intelligent and knowledgeable voters. Knowledgeable citizens are more likely to choose proper solutions to community problems or representatives who make the right choices. In addition to intelligence, good citizenship requires a commitment to become informed about public issues and to actively participate in the political process. School curricula that teach children about democratic institutions and instill a sense of civic duty may produce better citizens by fostering this commitment. Thus, in a democracy, each citizen has an interest in seeing that the education system creates good citizens. Parents who must pay for their children’s education might invest less in creating good citizens than is optimal for the community. Third, education can produce positive externalities by teaching children not to engage in antisocial behavior and encouraging pro-social behavior. Knowledge about the environment may induce citizens to make efforts not to destroy it and more willing to join organizations that seek to save it. Education can make children more tolerant of other ethnic and religious groups, and thereby reduce intergroup antisocial behavior. Public schools may promote tolerance merely by mixing children of different religious, ethnic, and economic backgrounds.2 Education can reduce crime by both teaching that certain behavior is wrong and by raising lifetime incomes, thereby making criminal activity relatively unattractive. Thus, education’s potential positive externalities give everyone an interest in the education of other community members. Education can also, however, inculcate behavior that produces negative externalities. Historically, religious education provides the most salient examples of education fostering beliefs that harm other members of the community. The Christian learns to hate the Jews because they crucified Christ; the Muslim learns to hate infidels (all non-Muslims); Christians and Muslims alike learn to hate homosexuals. To obtain education’s positive benefits and avoid its negative externalities, the state must determine at least part of school curricula. Students must learn about their country’s democratic institutions; about its history; the history of other countries; about other cultures and religions, both the dominant ones in their own country and those in other countries; they should be exposed to ethical systems not based on religion; and, if they are going to carry off their duties as well-informed intelligent citizens responsibly, they should study the sciences, social as well as natural. 2

See discussion in Spinner-Halev (2000).

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Since World War II, the word patriotism has for many, particularly in former Nazi countries like Germany and Austria, been almost a dirty word. The thought of patriotism is quickly followed by thoughts of nationalism, and soon images of flags waving and soldiers goose-stepping come to mind. It is possible to be loyal to one’s country, however, and even have affection for it, without wanting to conquer the world. The most frequently given reason for voting in developed democracies is out of a sense of civic duty. From whence springs a sense of civic duty? Not from going to church, watching horror movies, or studying algebra. Some of it may come from movies and popular novels depicting a country’s history or culture, but these often paint an overly flattering picture and sometimes even an overly critical one. If young citizens are to get unbiased accounts of their country’s history – both its triumphs and nadirs, its virtues and sins – the public schools will have to give it to them. Every four years, soccer fans around the world experience a surge of patriotism as their national teams compete in the World Cup. Faces and bodies are painted, flags wave, and songs are sung in a release of patriotic spirit in support of the national team. Although these surges of spirit sometimes lead to broken windows and noses, for most fans the event is a positive emotional experience. Sporting events like the World Cup awaken tribal instincts like few other activities today. Watching fans stripped to the waist with faces and bodies painted, waving flags and chanting, one is quickly reminded of tribal dances to bring luck in the hunt or battle. These events show how tribal instincts can be awakened and controlled. Education in a democracy should channel tribal instincts into a sense of identity with fellow citizens, which induces citizens to acquit their responsibilities constructively. The central mantra of U.S. conservatives today is that the state is the cause of the problem not the solution. All conservatives and even many liberals campaign against Washington, and Washington in the form of Congress is held in very low esteem by a large majority of Americans. Behind the state in a democracy, however, stand its citizens. If the state is bad or produces bad outcomes, then some guilt must fall on its citizens, and part of the reason for this poor performance may be that they do not exercise their responsibilities conscientiously, or are ill prepared to do so. It is in this context that John F. Kennedy is quoted at the beginning of this chapter. If the state is to be a good servant to citizens, then they must be good masters of the state. Public education must create good citizens.3 3

See Pinker (2002).

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It is tempting to argue that democracy will function well if only some citizens are well informed and vote intelligently. The errors uninformed and unintelligent voters make cancel each other out, and collective choice outcomes reflect the choices of well-informed, intelligent voters. James Surowiecki (2004) presents numerous examples from stock markets to betting pools in which something like this happens. Millions of people with varying degrees of knowledge about a company’s future profits bet on that knowledge by buying and selling shares. The price that emerges turns out to be an accurate reflection of the present value of the company’s future profits. For crowds to exhibit this aggregate wisdom, however, their errors in judging a share’s price must be unbiased. Shareholders must not pay more for a company’s shares simply because they like the logo. When substantial sums of money are involved, it is reasonable that such biases do not exist. Unfortunately, when it comes to voting, such biases are reasonable. The minuscule probability that a citizen’s vote will affect an election outcome removes the incentive to gather information about public issues, candidates, and parties. It is the act of voting itself that gives the citizen utility, not the expected effect of that vote on the election outcome. The good citizen votes because she believes it is her civic duty. Her choice of party or candidate will also reflect what makes her feel positive when she votes and not her rational calculation of what would be best for the country. If her choices are influenced by deep-seated beliefs and prejudices, then these choices will be biased in ways that are likely to produce poor outcomes.4 Caplan (2007) gives several examples of the erroneous economic beliefs of many voters that lead to bad economic policies. For example, large numbers of citizens believe that free trade hurts their country and are suspicious of foreigners. They willingly vote, therefore, for high tariffs to protect their country from so-called cheap foreign labor or social dumping, even though these tariffs harm their own country as well as the exporting country. Religious beliefs can be another important source of bias. Citizen views on global warming and on how to combat acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) are shaped by their religious convictions. Citizens with strong religious convictions choose candidates not solely on how well the candidates will or have governed, but also on the basis of the candidate’s religious convictions. When voting for evangelical candidates, evangelical voters express their support for the candidates’ religious beliefs: “Voting for

4

See the discussion of expressive voting in Brennan and Lomasky (1993) and Brennan and Hamlin (2000).

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a candidate who shares your evangelical identity is like voting for oneself.”5 These religious biases are inversely correlated with education.6 One and a half percent of elite scientists in the United States identify themselves as evangelists as opposed to 25 to 47 percent of the general population.7 In closing this discussion of education, it should be pointed out that the existence of externalities associated with education does not in itself require that the state be the supplier of education. Education could be provided by private schools whose curricula were approved by state monitoring boards.

II. The Separation of Church and State The drive for universal, state-provided education in Europe during the nineteenth century was led by liberals imbued with ideas from the Enlightenment. They also sought the separation of church and state. Both Catholic and Protestant religious leaders fought this onslaught on their monopoly over the supply of education, and a kind of compromise or truce emerged in most European countries with state-run schools often offering religious instruction and the state providing financial support for religious schools. State religious instruction could be justified if it produced more productive workers or better citizens. I think that it would be difficult to show, however, that students who do not attend religious classes become worse citizens. Indeed, if a well-functioning democracy requires citizens who question and challenge their political leaders, then religious instruction is likely to weaken democracy by creating a gullible electorate that willingly accepts on faith the claims of populist politicians. Hugo Ch´avez has steadily eroded Venezuela’s democratic institutions since becoming president, attempting to turn the country into an authoritarian Socialist state. He remains highly popular, however, because he possesses many qualities of a successful televangelist and has forged a “religious and emotional bond” with his followers.8 Statesupported religious training may also produce worse citizens by substituting religious instruction for science, history, civics, or other subjects that have more practical value or instill a sense of civic duty in a student. Thus, in a liberal, pluralist democracy without a state religion, no normative justification for the state offering or subsidizing religious instruction exists. Many private schools in the United States are operated by religious sects and religious schools also exist in Europe, although usually with partial 5 6 7 8

Lindsay (2007, p. 210). See discussion and evidence in Caplan (2007) and Lindsay (2007, pp. 210–11). Lindsay (2007, p. 209). For an interesting biography of Hugo Ch´avez, see Marcano and Tyszka (2007).

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funding from the state. It is difficult to see how the community benefits from such instruction. Many historical examples of religious instruction creating negative externalities can be cited, but negative externalities from religious education still exist today. A homosexual obtains no benefits from having his neighbors’ children brought up believing homosexuality is a sin, or that homosexual acts constitute sodomy and ought to be illegal. A poor teenager seeking an abortion does not benefit from the absence of nearby, inexpensive abortion clinics, because religious groups have closed them. The Muslim woman who speaks out against the treatment of Muslim women does not benefit from the countless hours spent reading the Koran by the Muslim men with whom she has contact. One might argue that religious education benefits societies by making people behave more morally (i.e., it creates positive externalities). We argue in Chapter Thirteen that this is generally not the case. Does one really have to believe that a supreme being created the universe before one can understand that stealing harms the community and is wrong? Must people be frightened with eternal hellfire to prevent them from stealing? If the answers to these questions are no, then whatever benefits religious instruction brings are purely private. The increase in probability of a person going to Heaven because she prays is a purely private benefit. Society has no collective interest in one of its members getting into Heaven. It follows that private schools that teach religion should not qualify as options satisfying a state requirement that all children attend school. Needless to say, this also applies to parents instructing their children at home. A prohibition of religious instruction as part of school curricula would not imply that children would be unable to get religious instruction. Parents would be free to send their children to Sunday schools and other sources of religious instruction, just as they are free to have them take piano lessons, tennis instruction, and other forms of extracurricular learning with purely private benefits. A constitutional right to practice one’s religion obligates the state to protect an individual’s freedom to exercise that right, it does not obligate the state to provide religious instruction. Once one accepts that religions provide purely private benefits, the justification for any state support for religion, not just for schools, disappears. Hollywood sells stories and dreams – horror stories, love stories, adventure stories; dreams of marrying a prince, of scoring the winning basket in the state championship game, of single-handedly killing five bad guys in a saloon. Religions sell stories and dreams – horror stories, love stories, adventure stories; dreams of Heaven. Hollywood film producers must pay taxes; so should churches. Gifts to Hollywood film studios are not tax

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deductible; there is no reason why gifts to churches should be either. If all the tax benefits that churches receive were eliminated and the money saved was spent by the state on education, police, and other public policies that benefit all citizens, social welfare would certainly increase.

III. Education, Religion, and Citizenship A. In the United States The conflict between religion and liberal democracy was dramatically illustrated in the U.S. Supreme Court decision in Wisconsin v. Yoder (1972). Wisconsin law required that children remain in school until age sixteen. Members of an Amish community believed that a high school education would weaken their children’s religious convictions and removed them from the public schools after the eighth grade. The state filed suit against the Amish. The Supreme Court found in favor of the Amish: The evidence showed that the Amish provide continuing informal vocational education to their children designed to prepare them for life in the rural Amish community. The evidence showed that the respondents sincerely believed that high school attendance was contrary to the Amish religion and way of life and that they would endanger their own salvation and that of their children by complying with the law.9

The Court admitted that the state had an interest in its citizens’ education, but argued “that only those interests of the highest order and those not otherwise served can overbalance legitimate claims to the free exercise of religion” protected by the First Amendment. It concluded that these claims were not overbalanced. The decision in Wisconsin v. Yoder raises two important questions concerning liberal democracy. The Court admitted that the state has a legitimate interest in its children receiving a good education to, among other reasons, make them better citizens, but concluded that the Amish’s interest in denying their children an education overbalanced the state’s interest. Does the state then have the right to deny the undereducated Amish the privilege of voting? If the Amish have the right to protect their religious way of life from the evils of a public education, should the rest of Wisconsin’s citizens not have the right to protect their democratic way of life from poorly informed, uneducated voters who are incapable of carrying out their duties 9

See http://caselaw.lp.findlaw.com/cgi-bin/getcase.pl?court=US&vol=406&invol=205.

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responsibly? Does knowledge about God substitute for knowledge of biology, chemistry, physics, economics, and foreign policy when it comes to voting? The Amish are unusual in that they have largely opted out of not only public schools, but civil society in general. They do not vote or participate in social activities outside of their own community. Thus, their children’s modest educations do not impose political costs on the rest of the community because the Amish do not vote. The costs of Amish parents restricting their children’s education fall mostly on the children themselves. Other religious groups – like the evangelicals – actively do participate in politics, however, and the heavy weight that they place on religious education at the expense of the sciences and other subjects in a standard, public school education does impose costs on the rest of the community. Recent Supreme Court decisions regarding First Amendment rights see these rights as protecting the freedom of an autonomous individual to choose his religion.10 Yet how can an individual freely choose his religion if he has been exposed to only one religion? By preventing their children from going to high school, the Amish also effectively denied them the possibility of going to college. Thus, they denied their children the knowledge of other religions and other ways of life that they would have obtained at higher level schools, knowledge that would have allowed them to make a free and rational choice of a religion and lifestyle. In interpreting the First Amendment rights of Amish parents as allowing them to deprive their children of higher levels of education, the Court gravely circumscribed the effective First Amendment rights of Amish children by limiting their capacity to make an autonomous and informed choice of religion. Moreover, as Justice William O. Douglas observed in his dissent, by granting the parents the right to keep their children from going to high school, the Court took away the teenager’s right to attend high school if she so wished.11

B. In Spain Similar issues have arisen in Europe. In 2007, the Spanish government proposed a course for eleven year olds entitled “education for citizenship.” Students would “receive a mix of ethics, civics, and study of human rights. Based on the values enshrined in Spain’s 1978 Constitution, the course [would] cover issues ranging from domestic violence to dangerous driving.” 10 11

See discussion and examples in Sandel (1996, ch. 4). See http://caselaw.lp.findlaw.com/cgi-bin/getcase.pl?court=US&vol=406&invol=205.

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The course obviously seems designed to provide the instruction needed to produce good citizens, “but the course [would] also deal with issues like gender, sexuality, and the family,” and thus elicited a vigorous response from the Catholic Church. Cardinal Maria Rouco Varela pronounced that the course “clashes with the fundamental principles of the Constitution and with the rights of parents to choose their children’s moral instruction.” ´ a Catholic headmaster of a school, argued “that individual Alfonso Aquilo, morality [was] being supplanted by secular dogma.” The Catholic Church is still a powerful force in children’s education in Spain. About a quarter of all children attend Catholic schools, which receive half of their funding from the state. Moreover, the Catholic Church selects and can fire teachers of religion in public schools. The Church obviously resents the possibility that “secular dogma” would compete with Catholic dogma in Spanish schools.12

C. In South Africa In South Africa, as in many other parts of Africa, beliefs in local religions remain strong. Ancestors play important roles in peoples’ lives as do evil spirits and witches. Since the end of apartheid, many black South Africans have experienced rapid increases in income and status. Population growth has remained high, however, and therefore so has unemployment and poverty. The government’s failure to deal with the AIDS epidemic effectively has resulted in more than one in five South Africans suffering from this disease. As noted in our earlier discussion of psychology and religion, humans abhor a causal vacuum. How can a South African who remains in poverty and unemployed while his neighbors grow rich explain his misfortune? How can a pregnant South African with AIDS explain hers? Many South Africans believe that their misfortune is caused by malicious witches.13 These beliefs have led to a surge in concern among South Africans about witchcraft since the end of apartheid, and demands that the state do something about the witches. The state has been slow to catch and punish witches leading to considerable resentment against it, with some South Africans filling the void left by the state using mankind’s favorite weapon against witches – setting them afire. The South African government faces a genuine dilemma. Should it intervene to protect those accused of witchcraft, thereby angering the large fraction of the population seeking protection from witches, or arrest and try citizens accused of witchcraft? 12 13

See Burnett (2007). This discussion draws on Ashforth (2005).

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The long-run solution to the problem would seem to be in educating South Africans about the lack of scientific evidence that witches exist. However, such an education program would be a direct attack on the religious beliefs of many South Africans. Does their right to practice their religion not include the right to worship their ancestors and fear witches? Perhaps, because of this conundrum, “no one [in the South African government] talks of the need to eradicate beliefs in witchcraft and superstition as objects of education policy.”14 If a solution to the witchcraft issue in South Africa does lie in the eradication of beliefs in witchcraft and other superstitions, what does this imply about education policy in the rich, developed countries? We discussed in Chapter Eleven the case of a child from Laos with epilepsy who died because her parents refused modern medical treatment for the disease on the grounds that the child was possessed by a good spirit. Beliefs that epileptics are possessed by the devil are also common. Should state schools not instruct students about the nature and causes of epilepsy to dispel notions that epileptics are possessed by good or evil spirits? If the answer to this question is yes, it raises another. Should state schools not instruct students that there is precious little evidence that angels and devils exist in any form? And if angels do not exist, what is an inquisitive youngster to make of the claim that the Archangel Gabriel announced to the Virgin Mary that she was with child or that he appeared to Mohammed while he meditated in a cave? The dilemma facing the South African government about education is not much different than the dilemmas facing governments in Western, developed countries where it is also typically the case that “no one talks of the need to eradicate beliefs in . . . superstition as objects of education policy.”

D. Implications Wisconsin v. Yoder and the controversy in Spain over a course teaching “education for citizenship” raise a most fundamental question – who should decide what a child’s education should be, parents or the state? Religious groups answer parents. As one speaker put it at a rally in Spain sponsored by the Catholic Church entitled Christian Family Day, “Don’t leave the hearts and minds of your children in the hands of anyone, and especially not of the state.”15 And in all democratic countries, this question has by and large been 14 15

Ashforth (2005, p. 307). Economist, January 12, 2008.

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answered in favor of the parents. They choose what to feed their children, how to clothe them, when to take them to the doctor, and make countless other choices that affect their children’s welfare. Why should parents not also be responsible for the kind of education their children get? States do, however, sometimes overrule parents regarding decisions that affect their children’s welfare. In Prince v. Massachusetts (1944), the Supreme Court upheld a decision against a Jehovah’s Witness who had violated child labor laws by having her nine-year-old daughter sell religious books. Removing children from the custody of their parents is also becoming more frequent when there is evidence of child neglect or abuse. Externality arguments can explain why the state – that is, the citizens of a liberal democracy – have an interest in the education of the community’s children, an interest that might warrant taking children’s education out of the hands of parents. Opposition to community-chosen education curricula typically comes, as in Wisconsin v. Yoder, from parents who fear that a secular education will undermine their children’s religious beliefs. Religious beliefs are said to be an important component of children’s identity and deserve First Amendment protection. A child exposed to courses in the natural and social sciences, civics, and history will have his religious faith shaken and lose an important part of his identity.16 The First Amendment protects the rights of religious minorities to maintain their religious identities from the wishes of a secular majority. Even if one accepts the proposition that state education erodes religious identity, this does not imply that it leaves a child with no identity. Other sources of identity – ethnic, geographic, social – will arise to fill the gap. In particular – and this is the most important justification for compulsory education – the child will acquire a sense of identity that includes liberal, democratic values. Thus, the issue of whether religious groups should be allowed to opt out of publicly defined education curricula is not one of whether children should be protected from losing their identities, but rather whether an identity created by a religious education sheltered from secular influences is better than an identity fostered through a secular education. This question immediately raises the question – better for whom? The implicit answer, given by the court in Wisconsin v. Yoder, is better for the parents, not the children or the community. The decision protected the right of Amish parents to determine their children’s identity, thereby restricting their children’s freedom to choose their own identities and the 16

See discussion of Mozert v. Hawkins (1987) in Spinner-Halev (2000) and Callan (2000).

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community’s ability to influence that choice. The justification for a constitutional right protecting religious freedom is that the benefits to a citizen from exercising this right are very great relative to any costs imposed on the rest of the community. When parents choose their children’s religions, however, they effectively deny the children the freedom to make this choice. The overwhelming majority of Mexicans profess to be Roman Catholics while the overwhelming majority of Libyans profess to be Muslims. The Mexicans did not choose their religion after careful study of all other religions and atheism, any more than the Libyans did. Citizens in both countries were indoctrinated as children and – with a few exceptions – have never questioned the authority or teachings of their religions. Their choice of a religion was effectively made for them by their parents. If citizens are to have the liberty to exercise their constitutional right to choose their religion as intelligent, educated adults, they must be prepared for making this choice. Leaving children’s education in the hands of parents who wish to deny them this freedom effectively limits a citizen’s capacity for exercising the right to freedom of conscience as an adult. If the state truly wanted to ensure that all citizens can exercise their right to choose their religion effectively, it would prevent children from receiving any religious instruction until they are old enough to intelligently judge its content – probably at least until age sixteen. At that time, they would learn about all major religions and the arguments of religious sceptics. With such knowledge, a future adult citizen would truly have both the right and capacity to choose a religion. Such an approach to religious education should be possible in a liberal democracy that professes a separation of church and state. It would be vigorously opposed by all organized religions, of course, just as the Spanish clergy opposed the course “education for citizenship.” Sadly, and less understandably, it would be opposed by many parents who, like the Amish, do not in fact want to prepare their children properly for the very important decisions they must make with respect to religion.17 It should also be noted that the logic of Wisconsin v. Yoder undermines the case for publicly funded schools, because it assumes that education is a purely private good benefiting a child’s parents. If there are no externalities associated with education, then leave it entirely to parents. If there are 17

I am thus adamantly opposed to Callan’s compromise proposal to accommodate the interests of religious minorities with those of the democratic community. Callan (2000) proposes a mix of religious and public education with the religious component subsiding over time. This compromise favors the interests of the parents over those of the children. If the state is to be involved in determining children’s education, then it is the interests of the children as future adults and citizens that should dominate.

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significant externalities, then the state should play an important role in determining educational curricula and might have to override parents’ choices when they have significant negative effects on the rest of the community.

IV. The Benefits from Immigration Anyone born in the United States acquires citizenship automatically, even if her parents happen to be there for a two-week holiday. In most other countries, citizenship is bestowed automatically if both or often only one parent is a citizen. Citizenship, in turn, typically carries with it the right to vote once a certain age is reached. Thus, the composition of the citizenry, to the extent that it is determined by eternal population growth, is usually largely out of the control of a given generation of citizens. If one group with a culture that clashes with a country’s democratic institutions is growing faster than the rest of the population, the country’s democratic institutions may be undermined without other citizens being able to do much about it.18 The situation is quite different, however, when it comes to immigrants. Here both the flow of immigrants and the speed at which they are granted citizenship can be controlled. Thus, immigration policy can have important effects on the composition of a country’s citizenry, and through this on the performance of its democratic institutions. There are both potential benefits and costs from immigration. We first discuss its benefits and then turn to its potential costs.

A. Exploiting Land and Natural Resources An underpopulated country can benefit from immigration through the better exploitation of its land and natural resources. New World countries in North and South America along with Australia and New Zealand grew rich because of the contributions of immigrants, largely from Europe, to agriculture, mining, and industry.

B. Obtaining Skilled Workers and Entrepreneurs Even a country that is not underpopulated can benefit from immigrants with skills and entrepreneurial talent. The United States has benefited greatly 18

Throughout the world, religious extremists, regardless of religion, have significantly larger families than religious moderates or those professing no religion (Economist, November 3, 2007, p. 9).

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from immigrants seeking the American dream, immigrants willing to work hard, open businesses, and take on risks to achieve that dream. Immigrants to the United States have won disproportionately large fractions of Nobel Prizes and Oscars, and more generally appear to be more creative than their homegrown neighbors.19 The United States is not, however, the only country to benefit from immigrants. The other New World countries, Switzerland and Great Britain, have also benefited from the arrival of people with entrepreneurial spirit.20 Many countries benefited during the 1930s from the influx of highly educated Jews fleeing persecution in Europe.

C. Variety is the Spice of Life A country may benefit from immigration by becoming more diverse. Toronto, New York, and London are exciting cities to visit and live in because of their large numbers of different ethnic groups. Eating out, shopping, and going to the theater can all be more exciting in an ethnically diverse community.

D. A Caveat If one could somehow calculate the welfare of all immigrants to the United States and their descendants over the last five hundred years and compare it to what they would have obtained had they not immigrated, one would most certainly conclude that the liberal immigration policy of the United States over most of this period was an immense success. Calculations for Canada, Australia, and many other New World countries would yield a similar result. If, on the other hand, one calculated the welfare of the indigenous populations and compared them to what they would have been without immigration, one would get an entirely different picture. For the Native Americans, the European migration to North America was a disaster. Countless thousands were killed either intentionally or inadvertently through the diseases that the European immigrants brought with them. The culture of the Native Americans was totally destroyed. The relatively few who still survive mostly live in reservations characterized by extreme poverty, unemployment, and alcoholism. The story repeats itself in varying degrees in South America and other New World countries. 19 20

See Putnam (2007, p. 140), and references cited there. See, for example, the discussion in Porter (1990, p. 114).

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The experience of the New World countries with immigration dramatically illustrates both the potential gains and losses from immigration. Later generations of immigrants from Europe and eventually from other parts of the world have found it relatively easy to integrate with descendants of earlier immigrants. The melting pot of integration has produced a more or less homogeneous alloy of the ethnically diverse immigrants who arrived in the United States. Today, virtually all descendants of earlier waves of immigrants think of themselves first and foremost as Americans. All generations have benefited from the immigration process. The original, indigenous population has been the great loser. Relatively few of its members have shared the American dream. Most remain isolated and alienated from mainstream society. If the Native Americans could have protected their borders and prevented European immigration, it would certainly have been in their interest to do so.

V. The Costs of Immigration In most cases, immigrants do not wipe out the existing population as they more or less did in many New World countries. Immigrants can, however, impose costs of a less dramatic nature on the incumbent population. Most of these arise because of an increase in heterogeneity, which imposes costs on a community’s original members. This section discusses the nature of these costs beginning with a potential cost of immigration that is not related to heterogeneity.

A. Overcrowding Perhaps the most obvious potential cost of immigration comes from overcrowding. If the population density is already at or beyond its optimal level, additional immigrants harm the incumbent population by increasing pollution, traffic congestion, and other costs associated with overly high population density. Southern California today is a good example of a community suffering from overpopulation. Its freeways are so clogged with traffic that the average Los Angelino spends 368 hours a year commuting to and from work. California’s air quality is notoriously the worst in the United States. It faces repeated water shortages and other natural disasters like fires and mud slides that are made worse by people building in high-risk areas to escape the congestion and high prices of more central areas. Its coastal fishing grounds are severely depleted, many species of native wildlife – including

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the state’s symbol, the golden bear – have become extinct. Yet, it continues to have one of the highest immigration rates in the United States. A tough and effective anti-immigration policy would most certainly improve the long-run welfare of today’s Californians.21

B. Heterogeneous Tastes A country can have but one defense policy, environmental policy, and set of traffic laws. The very nature of public goods like these requires that all individuals consume them in the same quantity. In a community where individuals have heterogeneous preferences for public goods, the levels provided will differ from those that many citizens consider optimal. These citizens would be better off in a community with similar tastes to theirs. If immigration increases preference heterogeneity and results in new levels of public goods, which are further away from those considered optimal by the incumbent population, then it will be hurt by immigration. Moreover, because the benefits that they get from the state are reduced due to immigration, it may weaken the community’s support for its democratic institutions.

C. Income Poor people buy smaller quantities of most private goods, like meals in restaurants and holidays on the beach, and lower qualities of other private goods. If immigrants are poorer than the indigenous population, they will favor the provision of lower quantities and qualities of public goods than otherwise would be chosen. Some costs will be imposed on the indigenous population if immigrants are given the right to vote.

D. Ideology A Communist wishes to see the state own all means of production and little or no scope for the market. An economic liberal favors strong property rights and market institutions. Ideological differences over economic institutions have been prominent in Europe over the last century and have imposed huge costs on its citizens. The most conspicuous of these are certainly the costs on those trapped in Communist countries after World War II. 21

For a discussion of Southern California’s population and environmental problems, see Diamond (2005, pp. 499–503).

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The “stop-go” economic policies followed by successive Conservative and Labour governments in Britain during the 1960s imposed costs of a lower magnitude on its citizens. The Red Brigades and other left-wing terrorist groups caused much fear and suffering as well as a significant number of deaths during the 1970s. If immigrants have radically different ideologies from the indigenous population, they are likely to impose costs on it even if they are not allowed to vote through public demonstrations and other sorts of activism or antisocial behavior.

E. Race It might not be possible to tell whether a man is an economic liberal by simply looking at him, but it is easy to tell whether his skin is a different color. Race is the most conspicuous heterogeneity that possibly divides people into hostile groups, and it is a common cause of friction in racially mixed societies. Racial prejudice may well be caused in part by our genetically inherited tribal loyalties and animosities. Skin color is an easy identifier of one’s tribe. Whatever the reasons, many white people do not wish to work or live alongside blacks or other minorities, and discriminate against them in their social and economic interactions. This discrimination drives the races apart both physically and economically with blacks and whites clustering in largely segregated communities, and blacks taking up inferior jobs and having lower incomes. The United States has for many years been the most prominent country troubled by racial problems. Barack Obama’s presidential victory in 2008 represents a great step forward for blacks in America, but they have yet to achieve full equality with whites. If anything, blacks and other ethnic minorities face greater barriers to upward mobility in Europe.22 Indeed, no country in the world with a non-negligible black minority has achieved racial equality in the sense that blacks have equal per capita incomes and equal probabilities of occupying the top managerial and other positions of status in the country.23 Robert Putnam (2007) has recently uncovered additional costs to ethnic heterogeneity using data from a survey of roughly thirty thousand

22 23

Erlanger (2008). In the past when I have made this observation, some people have occasionally pointed to Brazil as a counterexample of successful racial integration. An article in the Economist (2003) indicates that this is not so, however. Blacks in Brazil are demanding the same sort of quotas in hiring and university admissions to achieve racial equality that blacks in the United States have long demanded.

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Americans conducted in 2000. He finds that greater ethnic diversity in a community is associated with: 1) Lower confidence in local government, local leaders, and the local news media. 2) Lower political efficacy – that is, confidence in their own influence. 3) Lower frequency of registering to vote, but more interest and knowledge about politics and more participation in protest marches and social reform groups. 4) Less expectation that others will cooperate to solve dilemmas of collective action. 5) Lower likelihood of working in a community project. 6) Lower likelihood of giving to charity or volunteering. 7) Fewer close friends and confidants. 8) Less happiness and lower perceived quality of life. 9) More time spent watching television and more agreement that ‘television is my most important form of entertainment.’24 These findings indicate that immigration, which greatly increases ethnic diversity, could significantly reduce the social capital needed for a wellfunctioning democracy, social capital that is already in short supply in many countries.

F. Religion If one lists the trouble spots of the world over recent decades – Israel, Iraq, Afghanistan, Kosovo, India, Bosnia, Northern Ireland, Sudan – one immediately recognizes that religious differences have been a factor in all, and in most have been the primary if not sole cause of conflict. One also immediately recognizes that religious clashes have also not always been between Islam and Christianity, or even have involved Islam. In India, Muslims and Hindus have engaged in violent confrontations, and in Northern Ireland, it is Catholics and Protestants who killed one another. In Iraq, Sunni Muslims kill Shiite Muslims because they regard them as apostates. Religion’s power to lead people to violence should not be underestimated. All major religions seem capable of fueling sufficient hatred to generate physical violence when members of different religions live near one another.25 A country that is 24 25

Putnam (2007, pp. 149–50), footnotes omitted. Buddhism has not figured in the violence experienced by the seven countries listed in the text, but recent violent clashes between a Muslim minority in the south of Thailand

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largely of one religion risks creating conflicts if it opens its doors to people of other religions. Even when religious differences do not lead to bloodshed, they can be a source of tension and conflict. In 2006, Jack Straw, a prominent member of the Labour Party, expressed displeasure at meeting Muslim women wearing veils. One of the important steps in human evolution was the development of the capacity to recognize and read faces. When one can see a person’s face, it is not only possible to recognize who they are, but also often to determine whether they are happy, sad, or perhaps angry, and whether or not they are telling the truth. When someone covers her face, an important source of information about her disappears. There are several possible consequences. First, rather obviously, the person whose face is concealed may have an important strategic advantage over other people. If she lies, it is more difficult for them to detect that she is lying. Second, interpersonal relations may be upset. Because one cannot see the facial reaction of a veiled person, one cannot recognize if something one says angers or saddens the person. Unnecessary misunderstanding and tensions in interpersonal relationships may arise simply because one person cannot judge another’s reaction to what has been said or done. Finally, because of these problems, non-Muslims may simply choose not to deal with veiled Muslim women – not hire them, for example – because they feel uncomfortable dealing with a person when one cannot judge what they are thinking. Several European countries have substantial Muslim minorities. Many more Muslims seem ready to migrate to Europe. Several strictures of the Muslim religion – or perhaps more accurately the Muslim culture, because the religion does not in fact dictate clothing standards – clash with European lifestyles and values. To give but two examples, the views of many Muslims – but certainly not all – of the proper role of women in society are quite different from prevailing views in Western Europe, as are Muslim attitudes toward homosexuals. A substantial increase in the Muslim population in Europe must certainly raise the likelihood of social tensions. One might object that this is not inevitable. What is needed in Europe is a dialogue between religions, a dialogue that fosters religious tolerance. Such tolerance has by and large been achieved in Europe. Most Europeans do not care whether their neighbor prays on Sunday, Saturday, Friday, or does not pray at all. Nor do they care about what their neighbors do in bed. For most Europeans today, religion is an unimportant factor in their lives. and the Buddhist majority in this country suggest that it too can be a source of religious conflict.

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When a religion condemns homosexuality, however, for those who take the religion seriously, the existence and behavior of homosexuals cannot be a matter of indifference. If many immigrants prove to be devout Muslims, then conflicts between their beliefs and actions and those of non-Muslim Europeans is all but inevitable.

G. Language When seen on the street, it is difficult to tell the difference between a Flemish Belgian and a Walloon; only when they speak in their mother tongues does the difference stand out. This difference has been a continuous cause of friction in Belgium. Although these frictions have not escalated to the violence seen in Spain between Basques and other Spaniards, or in Northern Ireland, it has imposed costs, and today there is serious debate in Belgium over whether the country should break up. Language differences contribute to the gap separating Basques from other Spaniards, Catalans from other Spaniards, and Corsicans from other French. Language differences are a frequent cause of conflict between groups that otherwise seem quite homogeneous. The United States has been a great immigration success, because immigrants have been willing to give up their native languages to be part of the American dream. Many in the latest wave of immigrants have not been ready to give up Spanish, however, and in parts of California and Florida, Spanish has essentially become the first language. If this trend continues, the United States can expect the same sorts of language conflicts that have plagued its neighbor Canada, Belgium, and several other bi- or multilingual countries. Immigrants with different languages can be expected to impose costs on the receiving country unless they adopt the native language.26

H. Commentary Costs from heterogeneity are commonly attributed to prejudices against certain groups, prejudices that are fostered by a community’s cultural environment or educational system. Problems associated with heterogeneity would disappear if only people were better educated. Work in evolutionary psychology, reviewed earlier, calls these suppositions into question. Aggressive behavior against other groups is to some extent genetically determined. 26

Even under the best of circumstances, there are some additional costs from immigration for the recipient country, because it must fund additional instruction in language for the immigrants and their children.

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During the Pleistocene, loyalty to one’s group and animosity to other groups increased survival chances. Such loyalty and animosity became part of our genetic makeup, which can be triggered by signals that identify who is and is not a member of our group. Race, language, religion, and other types of heterogeneity can be such triggering signals.27 To say that group loyalty and animosity are partly genetically driven does not imply, of course, that we are condemned to racial, linguistic, and religious conflict. For large parts of the last five hundred years, European Catholics and Protestants went about killing one another. Now they live peacefully side by side in most (but not all) of Europe. Education can counteract genetic tendencies toward group animosities, but, at a minimum, European history suggests that the learning process can take some time. Although concerned about the negative effects of ethnic diversity in the short run, Putnam (2007) is rather optimistic about overcoming its negative effects in the long run. Blacks have been present in the United States longer than most European and Asian migrants, however, and Putnam’s findings, summarized earlier, indicate that ethnic differences between blacks and whites continue to have negative effects. Whether current immigration into the United States from Latin America will cause an erosion of social capital depends on whether the differences Americans perceive today between themselves and the new arrivals melt away over time. Whether they melt away will depend to a considerable degree on whether the immigrants take up the English language. We conclude that it is just as big a mistake to overestimate the power of education as to underestimate it. Rapidly increasing racial, linguistic, and religious heterogeneity through liberal immigration policies may increase group conflict or anomie and the erosion of social capital. Education can erase perceived differences between groups, but history indicates that for ethnic, linguistic, and religious differences, this sometimes takes a very long time.

VI. The Nature of the Costs of Heterogeneity Some forms of heterogeneity impose real monetary costs. Street signs must appear in two languages; parliamentary debates, court proceedings, and other public events must be translated; television must be broadcasted 27

See Pinker (1997, pp. 509–17), and for a general discussion of the challenge raised by evolutionary psychology to traditional thinking in sociology and psychology, Tooby and Cosmides (1992).

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in two languages. Religious differences might also impose real costs on a community. If the minority religion gets its religious holidays declared national holidays along with the majority religion’s holidays, the number of public holidays may be more than optimal. In the extreme case, of course, racial, linguistic, and religious differences can lead to violent clashes between groups with their attendant costs. Many costs of heterogeneity are not monetary costs, but psychological costs. A white person does not resent living next to a black person because the black favors a different speed limit. She simply resents seeing and knowing that a black person is her neighbor. The presence of the black person gives rise to a psychological externality.28 The sight of two men holding hands or kissing in public produces a negative psychological externality for someone who believes homosexuality is a sin. Indeed, the mere thought that two people are having a homosexual relationship in private may produce a psychological externality. The common way to eliminate a negative externality is to prohibit the action causing it – smoking is banned in public places. Bans against homosexuals committing certain sexual acts in public – or even in private – have been common, and still exist in many places today; blacks have been banned from places frequented by whites; and most recently, in France Muslim women have been banned from wearing head scarves in public buildings. Such bans impose obvious costs on the minority whose activity has been circumscribed. Should the ban not be imposed, the costs fall on the majority experiencing a psychological externality. When such externalities exist, one group must suffer losses for the benefit of the other group, whatever the community decides with respect to the action. The only way that the imposition of costs on one group can be avoided is by separating the two groups by a great enough distance so that the externality disappears. Thus, any community that is relatively homogeneous with respect to income, political ideology, race, religion, or language must weigh carefully the costs of destroying that homogeneity through a liberal immigration policy.

VII. Must a Liberal Democracy Have a Liberal Immigration Policy? Several scholars have argued that liberalism as a philosophical position requires a liberal immigration policy – national borders should be open to immigrants regardless of education, income, ethnic origin, political 28

I first introduced the concept of a psychological externality in Mueller (1996b).

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persuasion, or religion. The argument is quite similar to that of the cosmopolitans for cross-border redistribution discussed in Chapter Eleven. The argument for cross-border redistribution premises that people in poor countries possess rights to the incomes of people in rich countries. The argument for a liberal immigration policy rests on the premise that people in poor countries possess rights to migrate to rich countries. In this section, we examine the logic behind this argument.

A. The Case for Open Borders What must we do to treat all human beings as free and equal moral persons? That is the question that liberal egalitarianism demands we ask of all institutions and social practices, including those affecting citizenship, borders and migration. (Carens, 1992, p. 25)29

Like many others, Carens invokes Rawls’s (1971) classic defense of liberalism to justify open borders. Rawls’s veil of ignorance is supposed to eliminate arbitrary differences across individuals. Carens regards place of birth as one of these arbitrary differences, and infers that “we should, therefore, take a global, not national, view of the original position.”30 In the original position, an individual is uncertain about his future position and identity in society. Carens would define the point of reference as the entire globe. This global view of the original position logically leads a liberal to favor free movement of individuals across state boundaries, just as classical liberalism favors free movement within states.31 Citizenship in the modern world is a lot like feudal status in the medieval world. It is assigned at birth; for the most part it is not subject to change by the individual’s will and efforts; and it has a major impact upon that person’s life chances . . . Liberals objected to the way feudalism restricted freedom, including the freedom of individuals to move from one place to another in search of a better life. But modern practices of citizenship and state control over borders tie people to the land of their birth almost as effectively. If the feudal practices were wrong, what justifies the modern ones?”32

Ann Dummett (1992, p. 172) sees accidents of birth creating “a sort of international class structure” in which “the rich and highly skilled are its 29 30 31 32

This essay is an updating of the arguments in the oft-cited Carens (1987). Carens (1987, p. 256). Both Beitz (1979) and Pogge (1989) also argue for a global interpretation of the original position. Carens (1992, p. 27). Carens (1992, pp. 26–7).

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aristocracy.” She appeals to natural rights to justify free movement across national borders. An adherent of the natural law tradition finds [the international class structure] blatantly unjust. For, in this tradition, it is from the fact of being human, not the fact of being a citizen, that rights arise. The principles of justice to be satisfied are found not in any state’s laws but in ‘that law which governs all laws.’33

Robert Goodin is troubled by the asymmetric treatment of emigration and immigration by most states – liberal emigration and restrictive immigration policies. . . . on the face of things it would seem that if ethically valid reasons for closed borders can be found at all, then those reasons must presumably apply systematically; that is to say, they should presumably dictate that borders be closed to the same extent in all directions and for all purposes. (Goodin, 1992, p. 12, emphasis in original)

Goodin (1992, pp. 7–9) also seems sympathetic to the argument that liberal egalitarianism requires open borders, noting that transfers from rich to poor countries have had little effect on world poverty and thus open borders would be a more effective way to reduce it.34

B. Critique 1. The Natural Rights Justification. Carens wants “to treat all human beings as free and equal moral persons.” Implicit in this request is an assumption that all individuals are equal moral persons. Yet all individuals in the world are not equal moral persons. Indeed, people in different parts of the world cannot even agree on the definition of a moral person, because they do not possess common beliefs about morality. The Pushtan tribe member from Afghanistan who follows his sister to Germany and kills her because she has eloped with a German man rather than marry the one picked out for her by her family undoubtedly believes that she behaved immorally and he morally. Most Germans would disagree. If all humans have a right to migrate to any country of their choosing, then they have a right to migrate to Germany. If they bring their moral code and social customs with them, then there are likely to be clashes with Germans who share different notions 33 34

Dummett (1992, p. 172). Chang (1997, 2003) discusses immigration policy from a liberal egalitarianism perspective and cites other works in the literature.

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of morality.35 If enough Pushtans migrate, their moral code will eventually displace that of the Germans. As with cosmopolitan arguments for international redistribution, arguments for open borders to reduce world poverty ignore any obligations of those in poor countries to limit population to alleviate their poverty. Imagine a small isolated island in the Pacific cut off from the rest of the world. It was originally populated by one hundred survivors of a shipwreck. Steady population growth has raised the population to one thousand. The elders of the community calculate that continued population growth will exhaust the community’s only source of protein – fish in nearby waters. The community faces two choices – curb population growth or eventually die out. The former would seem to be the rational choice. If social custom or religion forbids adopting measures to control population, the community will choose to exhaust its source of protein and die out. If it is religion that leads to this choice, one might argue that this is the morally right thing to do. Now suppose that, while the population is still one thousand the island is discovered by the outside world, and the possibility to leave opens up. If other countries accept its migrants, the island can maintain a population of one thousand and continue to shun population control by exporting its surplus population. Claims that humans possess natural rights to free migration implicitly assume that the islanders have the right to make this choice, and that the rest of the world has a moral obligation to accept its excess population.36 2. The Rawlsian Justification. An important difficulty in citing Rawls to justify international redistribution and open borders is that Rawls himself rejected these arguments. In extending the original position to encompass everyone in the world, cosmopolitans envisage people in rich and poor countries and all those in between stepping behind the veil of ignorance. Yet a key assumption in Rawls’s defense of the difference principle for redistribution is that society is in a state of “moderate scarcity.”37 How can individuals in the United States, Japan, Bangladesh, and Burundi all assume that they will be in a society of moderate scarcity once the veil of ignorance is lifted? 35 36 37

“Honor killings” have taken place in Germany and have been a source of social tension (Economist, March 31, 2007). Rawls (1999, pp. 108–18) makes a somewhat similar argument in the context of international obligations regarding redistribution. Rawls (1971, pp. 127–8).

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Although Rawls focused on agreement to a hypothetical social contract, he saw individuals in the original position as part of an identifiable political community, and assumed that the principles of justice in the social contract would underpin and guide the political institutions contained in the community’s constitution.38 Without political institutions to enforce the social contract, it becomes simply another set of labels for what is just and unjust, devoid of any mechanism for achieving the just. Rawls had greater ambitions than this. Rawls (1971, pp. 175–80) emphasized that his two principles of justice, once publicized, are more likely to induce compliance after the veil of ignorance is lifted than other principles.39 The argument is easy to see if those joining the social contract are members of a well-defined political community. Noncompliance in such a community would take the form of not paying taxes, vandalism, and other actions that hurt others in the community. What does noncompliance mean in a global setting, however? What does a person in a poor country do to break the social contract if a rich country does not transfer funds to the poor country? Declare war? One possibility would be to migrate to the rich country illegally and engage in criminal acts or terrorism. This makes a Rawlsian justification for crossborder redistribution and open borders resemble more cynical real Politik justifications. If the poor cannot enter legally, they will enter illegally and the former is better than the latter. An individual who steps behind the veil of ignorance must imagine occupying the positions of others. It is easier to imagine being someone from one’s own ethnic or religious group or from one’s political community than being someone from a radically different culture. Principles of justice agreed to in the original position are likely to contain stronger definitions of individual rights, and more generous commitments to redistribution, when the individuals choosing these principles strongly identify with other members of the social contract. In particular, a country’s political institutions are likely to obtain more support from citizens and thus be more effective in advancing their welfare the greater the extent to which they identify with one another. Small homogeneous communities will have tighter bonds of identification than large heterogeneous ones. Alexander Hamilton recognized the importance of citizens’ identifying with the new republic in the debates over the ratification of the Constitution. 38 39

Rawls (1971, pp. 221–8). Binmore (1994) presents an alternative, utilitarian defense of the difference principle, but places great weight on the claim that it is the only principle of distribution that guarantees compliance once the veil of ignorance is lifted.

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The human affections, like solar heat, lose their intensity, as they depart from the center; and become languid, in proportion to the expansion of the circle, on which they act. [Thus,] we love our families, more than our neighbours: We love our neighbours, more than our countrymen in general.40

In the end, moral theories can induce people to behave in accordance with their principles only to the extent that these moral principles correspond with people’s moral intuitions. Rawls’s theory of justice is powerful because the intuition underlying it – that we are all members of the same community and face the same uncertainties – is so appealing. However, before it can be effective in changing behavior or social institutions, the we has to be identified. The more closely members of the community think and behave as I do, the easier it is to imagine being one of them from behind the veil of ignorance. Thus, a Rawlsian justification for a social contract as a foundation for political institutions is likely to produce more effective and just political institutions in small, homogeneous communities than in large heterogeneous ones. The city-state remains the ideal political community, and the small nation-state is better than the large one – except when it comes to waging war. Attempts to shame rich countries into making sacrifices for people in poor countries by invoking Rawlsian arguments for social justice are likely to fail, because the notion that all humans are parties to the same social contract – simply because they share the same DNA – lacks intuitive appeal. 3. Emigration and Immigration Policies Should Be Symmetric. The suggestion that emigration and immigration policies should be symmetric (or that the existence of rights to emigrate logically requires rights to immigrate) runs counter to our everyday behavior and intuitions of individual rights. An invited guest in my home should have the right to leave if he chooses, but this does not imply that everyone should have the right to invite themselves into my home. A claim that individuals ought to possess a right to emigrate does not necessarily follow from the theory of constitutional rights developed in Chapter Eleven. A constitutional right to emigrate requires that those writing the constitution believe that there will be great benefits for those leaving the country and modest costs imposed on those left behind. These conditions may not be fulfilled. Clubs, for example, sometimes make members put up a bond or deposit that they forfeit if they leave without a replacement. The logic behind such a rule is obvious. The club forms under the assumption 40

As quoted in Hendrickson (1992, p. 215). Similar arguments appear in Mueller (1974).

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that there will be n members to share its costs. If some exit and do not find replacements, the costs of maintaining the club rise for the remaining members. Emigration can have similar external costs. A city builds museums, schools, streets, and bridges on the expectation that it will have a population of n. A large migration out of the city raises the costs of maintaining the city’s infrastructure on those left behind. Rights to free migration within a country are common. In a classic article, Charles Tiebout (1956) demonstrated that movement between communities can constitute a kind of voting-with-the-feet that makes everyone better off by sorting the total population into communities with homogeneous tastes. Some communities build art museums, others zoos. People who like to look at paintings move to the first community while those who like to look at animals move to the second. Migration in Tiebout’s model has no negative external effects. This assumption is often violated, however. Community X lies by the ocean, has beautiful beaches, and a mild and sunny climate year-round. Community Y is in a snow belt with cold and snowy winters and hot and humid summers. People with similar levels of income and education lead happier lives in X than in Y. With free migration, population flows from Y to X until congestion, pollution, and other negative effects of overpopulation drive the benefits from living in X down to the level of Y. There is a sort of egalitarian fairness to this outcome – why should people lucky enough to be born in X enjoy happier lives than the unlucky born in Y? Yet the outcome is highly inefficient. From behind a veil of ignorance, unanimous agreement could be reached on policies that prevent migration to X in such numbers as to destroy its attractiveness. These could either take the form of taxes on immigrants into X or subsidies to induce people in Y not to emigrate. Thus, in general, there is no reason to expect that rights to either emigrate or immigrate are necessarily desirable or should be part of a community’s constitution. Nor is there any reason to expect symmetry in the two sorts of rights. Overpopulated countries will adopt liberal emigration policies and restrictive immigration policies; underpopulated countries the reverse. In each case, the issue boils down to considering the benefits to the migrant and the costs her migration has on both the community that she leaves and the one into which she moves. It could be, for example, that there are many undesirable communities like Y in a country and only one or two like X. Small numbers of people migrate from each Y and their departure has an imperceptible effect on those left behind. The aggregate effect on X from migration could be devastating, however. In such a situation, rights to emigrate might be optimal so that

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people could move from one Y community to another Y, but citizens in X should be allowed to curb immigration to prevent destroying the advantages of their community. It should also be noted that externalities associated with migration often depend on which people migrate. The departure of a band of gangsters because of increasing police surveillance benefits the community while the departure of wealthy families because of high crime rates hurts it. Similarly, any externalities associated with immigration are likely to depend not only on the numbers of immigrants, but also on their characteristics. Increasing mobility has made situations like the X-Y example more and more common within countries. Brian Barry, in criticizing Goodin, gives an example: “Can anyone familiar with Chicago or New York honestly say that the uncontrolled Black migration from the South between the 1930s and the 1950s has been anything but a disaster – for the inhabitants of the ghetto even more than those they displaced?”41 If unfettered migration within a country can have disastrous consequences, then most obviously migration across national borders can because nations are much more homogeneous than the world is. The world contains a handful of rich, X countries with high standards of living, and a large number of poor, Y countries. If all people living in the poor countries were free to migrate to the rich ones, a flow of migrants would continue until living standards in the rich countries fell to the level of the poorest of poor countries. Once again, such an equilibrium has a certain egalitarian fairness to it, but it seems far from optimal. 4. Free Immigration as an Effective Way to Eliminate World Poverty. A typical poor country has high population growth, low levels of education, an ineffective and corrupt state sector, and a highly regulated, poor functioning economy. Migrants from poor to rich countries generally increase their incomes – that is why they migrate. Except for massive migrations like the nineteenth-century Irish migration to America because of the potato famine, however, the scale of migration from poor to rich countries is unlikely to be large enough to have a significant impact on poverty in the poor countries. Consider Pakistan. It has experienced considerable migration. Being a former colony of Britain, it has been a popular choice for Pakistanis. As of 2001, 1.3 percent of the British population is of Pakistani descent – some 750,000 people.42 Today, Pakistan’s population of 170 million grows by 41 42

Barry (1992, p. 284). See http://www.statistics.gov.uk/.

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more than 4 million a year. Thus, almost five times the number of Pakistanis who live in Britain today could migrate from Pakistan every year and its population would not change, and presumably also the amount of poverty in it. If all these migrants went to Britain within a generation, it would have a population that was more than half Pakistani. Would Great Britain’s culture and education system transform the migrants so that it continued to be one of the world’s richest countries with strong democratic institutions, a well-functioning market economy, and low levels of corruption, or would the migrants’ culture and religion have so strong a hold on them that they transformed Great Britain into a country resembling today’s Pakistan?43 Of course, all migrants from a country typically do not go to just one other country. However, there is a tendency for them to follow in the footsteps of earlier generations of migrants, partly because they have received favorable reports from the early migrants, partly because they can join fellow countrymen upon arrival in the new country, and thus reduce some of the anomie that often accompanies migration. Thus, one usually finds various concentrations of migrants in the rich countries – Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, and Indians in Great Britain; Turks in Germany; Mexicans and other Latin Americans in the United States. This tendency for migrants to cluster slows up integration into the new culture, and makes it more likely that the recipient country’s culture changes in the direction of that of the migrants.44

VIII. Discussion Immigration can bring benefits to the immigrants and to the country receiving them. The United States is testimony to the benefits from immigration. Immigration can, however, also impose costs on a country when ideological, ethnic, linguistic, or religious differences between the immigrants and the incumbent population lead to conflict or simply to overcrowding and congestion. Immigration can also harm a community by altering its social or political culture. Thomas Jefferson recognized this potential cost of immigration. He thought that Virginia’s population was below optimal and 43

44

Although Muslims in total make up only about 2.7 percent of the British population, there appears to be some fear of their causing a cultural transformation already. In explaining why some residents opposed converting an abandoned Methodist church into a mosque in Clitheroe, England, religious scholar and Anglican vicar Alan Billings observed, “But it is really a deeper anxiety about what is happening in society. It is the fear of what will happen to the culture and feel of Britain” (Browning, 2007, p. 4). See discussion in Barry (1992).

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speculated on whether allowing immediate migration to reach the desired population would be better than waiting until it was attained through natural population growth. The advantage of speed from a liberal immigration policy was obvious, but Jefferson had reservations. But are there no inconveniences to be thrown into the scale against the advantage expected from a multiplication of numbers by the importation of foreigners? It is for the happiness of those united in society to harmonize as much as possible in matters which they must of necessity transact together. Civil government being the sole object of forming societies, its administration must be conducted by common consent. Every species of government has its specific principles. Ours perhaps are more peculiar than any other in the universe. It is a composition of the freest principles of the English constitution, with others derived from natural right and natural reason. To these nothing can be more opposed than the maxims of absolute monarchies. Yet from such we are to expect the greatest number of emigrants. They will bring with them the principles of the governments they leave, imbibed in their early youth; or, if able to throw them off, it will be in exchange for an unbounded licentiousness, passing, as is usual, from one extreme to another. It would be a miracle were they to stop precisely at the point of temperate liberty. These principles, with their language, they will transmit to their children. In proportion to their numbers, they will share with us the legislation. They will infuse into it their spirit, warp and bias its directions, and render it a heterogeneous, incoherent, distracted mass. I may appeal to experience . . . for a verification of these conjectures. But, if they be not certain in event, are they not possible, are they not probable? Is it not safer to wait with patience twenty-seven years and three months longer, [Jefferson’s calculation of the time it would take for internal population growth to reach the optimal level] for the attainment of any degree of population desired or expected? May not our government be more homogeneous, more peaceable, more durable? (Jefferson, [1784]1944, pp. 217–18)45

Jefferson clearly recognized that the success of civil government rested on the existence of a liberal, democratic political culture with shared values and goals, and that this political culture might be threatened by the importation of people raised in radically different political cultures. His fears have so far proven to be largely unfounded, because migrants to America came in search of the American dream and its liberal democratic institutions were an important part of that dream. The other potential problems associated with mass immigration have also proven to be minimal for the United States. Because it was large and sparsely populated, overcrowding has not been an issue until recently. Because most immigrants, again until recently, have come from Europe, ethnic differences were modest and nearly all immigrants were Christians, thereby avoiding religious clashes. Language 45

Later, Jefferson ([1801]1944, p. 331) expressed a more favorable view of immigration, but still wished to restrict it “to guard against the fraudulent usurpation of our flag.”

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and cultural differences existed at first, but those who stayed or their children soon learned English and adopted the culture of their new homeland. The American experience, as well as that of Canada and other New World countries, also reveals the dark side of open borders. From the point of view of the indigenous population at the time of Columbus’ arrival, the European migration was an unmitigated disaster. The experience of the United States is a perfect example of migrants benefiting from a liberal immigration policy at an indigenous population’s expense. Robert Goodin (1992, p. 259, n. 30) notes that the same thing happened in Australia, but he does not appear to believe that this undermines the case for open borders. If the local population suffers from an influx of people with a radically different culture and the incumbent’s culture is destroyed, so be it. Howard Chang argues that liberalism demands that one take such a position. “It is difficult to justify immigration restrictions as a means to preserve a particular national culture, however, while remaining faithful to liberal principles,” and quotes Mark Tushnet as saying that “there is therefore no principled reason to object to the transformation of the polity that will occur when those with different values enter.”46 Yet what if the different values of the entrants run against liberal democratic values? Jefferson clearly recognized this danger; Chang and Tushnet seem unconcerned by it. If liberalism requires liberal immigration policies, then Jefferson was not a liberal. Indeed today, Jefferson’s passage quoted earlier would be labeled xenophobic. Nevertheless, an argument that liberalism requires that a country should adopt policies that can undermine its liberal democratic culture seems contradictory. Liberal democracy can also be threatened by the immigration of members of a religion that oppose liberal values – speech should be restricted on matters of religion, scientific texts banned if they contradict the religion’s holy books, religious dress codes might be enforced by the state or clergy, birth-control devices might be banned because it is claimed that God forbids them. If pressed, advocates of open borders might agree that immigration could be restricted if it threatened the very foundations of liberal democracy. Joseph Carens, a staunch advocate of open borders, is willing to restrict immigration of nonliberal entrants “if one had good reason to believe that they would threaten the liberal character of the regime if admitted.”47 Yet how does one make this determination? Upon migrating to a Western 46 47

Chang (1997, p. 2114). Carens (1992, pp. 28–9).

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country, a moderate Muslim might become alienated, take up with a radical group, and eventually pose a threat to both its population and its liberal values. Alternatively, a radical Muslim might migrate and come to accept and champion its liberal values. If one thinks that radical Islam poses a challenge to Western liberal values and institutions, it is difficult to see how a Western country could implement a policy of picking and choosing among Muslim applicants for admission to avoid radical Islam from taking root. In the sixteenth century, Calvinists prescribed what Genevans could wear and the names for their children, and tortured and killed those who did not accept Calvinism. Today, it is the Ayatollahs of Iran who tell their citizens how to dress, what to think, and forbid them to sing. Over much of the last five hundred years it was Christianity that resisted modern developments and the spread of liberal values. Where Christian fundamentalism still thrives, as in the United States and increasingly in parts of South America, Christianity remains a threat to liberalism. Today, some high school biology teachers in the United States avoid teaching Darwinian evolution out of fear of attack from their students’ fanatical parents. Three of the Republican candidates in the 2008 presidential race claimed not to believe in evolution,48 and, alarmingly, opposition to Darwinism is now spreading to other parts of the world.49 Today in Europe, the greater threat to liberalism comes from Islam. Many migrants to Europe do not come in search of “the German dream” or “the Spanish dream.” They do not wish to abandon their culture for European culture or even to learn the language of their new home. When they marry, they marry members of their own ethnic group. Necla Kelek, a sociologist of Turkish origin who lives and works in Germany and has acquired German citizenship, inquired into why so many Turks fail to integrate into German society despite having been born in or lived in it for many years. A typical Turkish immigrant woman arrives at an age between sixteen and twenty to join her new husband, who is a German resident. The husband’s mother arranged the marriage with the bride’s parents in Turkey. The mother often has offered the bride’s parents money to secure their consent, or may have been able to win it just with the promise of a life in Germany. The newly wed couple had little if any contact prior to their marriage, and the bride had little to say about whether she wanted to marry her husband or even if she wanted to marry at all. 48 49

See Economist, May 26, 2007. See Economist, April 21, 2007.

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The husband’s parents typically live in the same apartment as the newly married couple. The marriage contract makes the bride the property of the husband’s family, and she is obligated to serve both her husband and his parents without complaint. The practice of arranged marriages and the sale of daughters dates back centuries to the time when young girls – sometimes ages two or three – were sold to rich men who placed them into their harems.50 As wife and daughter-in-law, the life of a Turkish immigrant seems, as Kelek describes it based on her interviews, rather miserable. The hardship and boredom of everyday life leads Turkish women to concentrate on the afterlife and thereby strengthens their religious convictions. Because their life in Germany is confined to having and raising children and serving the needs of their husbands and in-laws, there is no need to learn the German language, and few do. They shop in stores owned by Turks and their friends are other Turkish women who, like themselves, were import brides. (Muslim women are not allowed to make friends with males outside of their immediate family.) Because the mothers cannot speak German and the husbands play little part in parenting, the children grow up speaking Turkish. Thus, first-, second-, and even third-generation Turkish children born in Germany start school with the same language disadvantage as new immigrants. The combination of common language, Turkish background, and religion allows Turks to live in almost complete isolation from German society. When Kelek asked one woman how she could live in Germany without having anything to do with the country or its culture, she answered: We can to be sure live here without having anything to do with others. We have our own conceptions. We have everything that we need, we do not need the Germans. My child will naturally marry someday. When the parents are agreed, two witnesses will come together, the children will say that they want to live together, and then they will be married in the Umma. (Kelek, 2005, pp. 210–11; author’s translation)

Thus, as the Muslim population grows in Germany, and to varying degrees in other parts of Europe, two radically different cultures are emerging alongside one another – one Western, secular, liberal, and democratic; the other Middle Eastern, religious, traditional, and patriarchal. The Dutch director Theo Van Gogh’s assassination for the crime of making a film critical of the treatment of many Muslim women, and the uproar and deaths caused by the publication of cartoons of Mohammad in a Danish newspaper, are vivid illustrations of the clash of cultures that now exists in Europe. Even the pope cannot criticize Islam without provoking 50

Kelek (2005, pp. 41–8).

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rioting. Such incidents cannot avoid having a chilling effect on free speech when it comes to religion and thus strike at a core value of liberal democracy. Religious toleration is one of the most important liberal values to emerge out of the Enlightenment. As the previous examples illustrate, however, religions themselves, by those who take them most seriously, are inherently intolerant. Thus, liberal values somewhat paradoxically require toleration of the intolerant in our midst. They do not, however, demand immigration policies that would expand the numbers and political strength of those who oppose these same liberal values. Those who wish to see Europe remain liberal and democratic must contemplate very carefully the potential consequences of allowing people to enter who do not share these values.

PART IV

CHALLENGES TO LIBERAL DEMOCRACY

THIRTEEN

Democracy and Religion

Have we learned that democracy, with everything in any way associated with it, is nothing other than stupidity, scandal, dissoluteness, robbery, theft, and murder? (August Vilmar, nineteenth-century German theologian)1 The bitter and venomous taste of Western liberal democracy, which the United States has hypocritically been trying to portray through its propaganda as a healing remedy, has hurt the body and soul of the Islamic Ummah and burned the hearts of Muslims. (Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Supreme Leader of Iran)2

This chapter discusses the compatibility of liberal democratic institutions and religious beliefs. Before exploring this issue, however, it is necessary to define the term religious. We construe it to mean “Devoted to religion: exhibiting the spiritual or practical effects of religion, following the requirements of a religion; pious, godly, devout.”3 Thus, religious implies more than just belief in a god. A religious person’s beliefs affect the way she thinks and acts in both her private and public life. A Deist believes in a god and might, therefore, think of himself as religious. However, he will not pray to his god nor be guided by any strictures laid down by it. His decisions regarding what is good for himself and his community will be unaffected by his belief in a supreme being who created the universe. A Deist is thus not religious in the way we employ this term. The Catholic Church forbids abortions and birth control. An overwhelming majority of Italians claim to be Catholic, and yet Italy has one of the lowest birthrates in the world. It would appear that many Italians have 1 2 3

As quoted in Burleigh (2005, p. 219). As quoted in Slackman (2006, p. 2). First of four definitions given in the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, fifth edition.

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decided that they will determine the number and timing of their children, not God or the pope. In this respect, they are less religious today than, say, fifty or one hundred years ago. Thus, religiosity must be thought of as a continuous variable. The stronger a person’s religious beliefs are, the greater their influence on her thinking and actions, and the more likely it is that her religious beliefs affect her behavior as a citizen. When discussing the compatibility of liberal democratic and religious beliefs, we assume that at least some people are strongly religious. We begin with some examples in which democracy and religion are compatible and then move on to more difficult cases.

I. Religion and Democracy in Homogeneous Communities Consider a community in which all citizens are of the same religion and extremely devout. It is democratic and undertakes many collective actions common to all communities – fire and police protection, road maintenance, trash collection. In addition, it undertakes some actions related to the religion – church and temple maintenance is financed out of tax revenue. If the religion prescribes certain dress codes, then these might be enforced by the police. Publicly funded schools include instruction in the common religion. Small Quaker communities could serve as ideal examples. They function without formal clergy, and collective decisions are made using the rule of consensus at the same meeting house used for praying. Such communities might be described as democratic in the extreme and demonstrate that democracy and religion can be quite compatible in certain situations. Consider next a community of devout citizens belonging to the same religion but with a hierarchically structured clergy. If it is too large for town-meeting democracy, then a tension might arise between its elected leaders and the clergy. If disagreement arises over a public policy, whom should the citizens follow – those receiving a majority of votes in the last election or those who claim to speak with and for God? One way to reconcile religion and democracy in such a community is to assign certain functions to the elected part of the state and others to the religious part. Elected officials decide spending on fire protection and trash collection; the clergy officiates over marriages and burials and specifies dress codes. Such a division of labor existed in the early Jewish state, although it was not a democracy (see Chapter Four). The more religious people are, however, the more such a separation may run into difficulties. To whom do police report – elected officials or the clergy? Do the police enforce church laws as well as laws enacted by the elected representatives?

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The difficulty of reconciling strong religiosity and democracy is well illustrated by the recent history of Iran – the Islamic Republic. Although it has an elected parliament and president, the most powerful man in Iran today is “the Supreme Leader,” the cleric Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.4 It is possible to envisage democracy and religiosity living happily side by side – a small Quaker community – but in most situations, democracy is likely to give way to the authority of the clergy if it is well-organized and hierarchical. Moreover, logically this ought to happen. Why listen to the man in the street when one can hear the voice of God speaking through his chosen representatives on Earth? An omniscient God must know whether a country should develop nuclear power or a nuclear bomb, just as he knows what people should wear and eat. For the truly religious, obedience to God must naturally extend to obedience to his earthly representatives and apply to all walks of life. If a citizen is incapable of choosing the color of her dress, how can she choose a foreign policy or even a person to decide foreign policy? For the truly religious, theocracy must always trump democracy.

II. Religion and Democracy in Heterogeneous Communities Tension between religion and democracy grows stronger when individuals belong to different religions or practice a single religion to different degrees. In either case, one group’s actions can create a negative externality for another, lowering the latter’s utility. In On Liberalism, John Stuart Mill enunciated the following basic principle. . . . the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or even right . . . To justify [deterring him], the conduct from which it is desired to deter him must be calculated to produce evil to someone else. The only part of the conduct of anyone, for which he is amendable to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign. (John Stuart Mill, [1859]1939, p. 956) 4

See Slackman (2006).

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In a liberal democracy, as Mill saw it, an individual’s actions could only justifiably be constrained if they harmed others. The pianist is free to practice as long and as loudly as she wishes as long as it does not disturb others; she is free to drink and smoke what she wishes – even if it should bring harm to herself – as long as it does not harm others. Playing a piano loudly or drinking and driving can produce negative, physical externalities by keeping neighbors awake or endangering other lives. When individuals hold strong religious beliefs, actions that cause no physical externalities may give rise to psychological externalities. The Orthodox Jew is distressed seeing people driving cars on the Sabbath, because he believes that the Talmud forbids such actions; the devout Christian or Muslim is distressed seeing two men kissing in public, because she believes that the Bible or Koran forbids homosexuality. Actions that are regarded as harmless, and are protected by an individual’s liberal rights in one community, may be regarded as harming others in a religious community and thus become subject to the same kinds of restrictions that apply to physical externalities. Consider a community in which everyone is of the same religion, but some are conservative and treat every sentence and stricture in the religion’s holy book as fact and law, while others are liberal and believe that the holy book is subject to different interpretations and must be reinterpreted from time to time as the community evolves. Conservatives believe the holy book prescribes that everyone dress in black; liberals believe one may dress as one pleases and remain true to the religion. The sight of a liberal dressed in red incenses a conservative. If the community employs the simple majority rule to make collective decisions, then one group must suffer for the benefit of the other. If liberals are in the majority they will not impose a dress code, and conservatives must live with people who flaunt a basic stricture of the holy book. If conservatives are in the majority, liberals must go through life dressed as pallbearers. Differences in the intensity of religious beliefs even between members of the same religion can produce a tyranny of the majority. Lest the reader think this example fanciful, let us consider again the case of Iran and its Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Although “Islamic society has a rich musical tradition,” Khamenei is of the view that children should not be allowed to play music, and that “Teaching music is not in accordance with the Islamic establishment, and teaching music to schoolchildren brings corruption.”5 In many societies, parents 5

See Lewis (2002, p. 148) and Slackman (2006, p. 2). Those who run Muslim schools in Britain also believe that music is “un-Islamic” and, therefore, either teach it badly or not at all (Economist, September 9, 2006, p. 38).

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believe it is good for children to play a musical instrument, and go to great expense giving them lessons. Many parents sing songs with their children, because they believe that singing together solidifies family bonds. Conceivably, Iranians, more liberal than Khamenei, are of the same belief. If so, then they will have to teach their children to play musical instruments and sing in secret, because in Iran the opinion of the Ayatollah Ali Khamenei counts for more than that of the majority. Indeed, in Iran even adults are not allowed to sing and dance in public. The costs imposed on minorities from psychological externalities stemming from religious differences grow larger when the minority and majority groups are of different religions. The last millennium is filled with examples of religious minorities that suffered – often brutally as during the Inquisition and the Holocaust – because of differences in religious beliefs.6 The Indian subcontinent has had a long history of violence and bloodshed as Muslims and Hindus clashed over religious differences. Pakistan owes its existence to religious differences and the belief that by separating Muslims and Hindus the bloodshed would cease. Yet the separation was not complete, as a substantial number of Muslims continue to live in what is now India, and the border dividing Pakistan and India is porous. Thus, the killing continues.7 Viewed from the perspective of a non-Christian, Protestants and Catholics would appear to have far more in common than what separates them. Nevertheless, differences in interpretation of scripture, the role of the clergy, and other religious matters were regarded as sufficiently important to die for during the many religious wars that raged in Europe during the last millennium. And Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland still find their religious differences to be important enough to justify killing one another on occasion. The bloodshed in Iraq following Saddam Hussein’s overthrow is a dramatic illustration of the conflicts different religious beliefs can cause – in the Iraqi case, different sects of the same religion. Earlier, we discussed Roger Petersen’s (2002) interesting studies of ethnic violence in Eastern Europe. In each case, one group – Poles, Ukrainians, Lithuanians – turned on another following a sudden reversal of the status positions of the two groups. Exactly such a sudden status reversal took place in Iraq following the second Iraq War. The Sunnis went from being a minority group in control of 6

7

Nazism singled out the Jews more for their ethnicity than for their religious beliefs, but the existence of widespread anti-Semitism for religious reasons in Germany made the Jews an easy target for the Nazis. See discussion in Chapter Nine. See again, Khan’s (2007) discussion of the partition of the Indian subcontinent and its aftermath.

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the country to one dominated by a Shiite majority overnight. As in Eastern Europe, two groups that had managed to live next to one another fairly peacefully for decades began to kill one another. The main difference between the two cases is that in Eastern Europe it was ethnicity that allowed people to identify “their group,” while in Iraq it is religion. Iraq is an admittedly extreme example of the incompatibility of strong religious beliefs and democracy. The first election in early 2006 was met with much fanfare and a high voter turnout with many Iraqis proudly displaying their stained fingers to Western cameras indicating that they had voted. Yet the overwhelming number of Iraqis voted along religious or ethnic lines (Shiites for Shiites, Sunnis for Sunnis, and Kurds for Kurds) resulting in a very poor showing for secular candidates. In the ensuing months, representatives of each group devoted more time to advancing their group’s interests over the other two than to forming a government to deal effectively with the country’s problems – particularly the rising violence. Hussein’s clumsy execution on December 30, 2006, precipitated boisterous demonstrations by Sunnis both in and outside of Iraq proclaiming Hussein to be both hero and martyr – and, from the perspective of the Sunnis, this was a reasonable position. Despite being a fairly small minority, Sunnis faired well under Hussein. The same cannot be said for the Shiites and Kurds who died in the tens of thousands on Hussein’s order. Here one might have expected some compassion from Sunnis over their fellow Muslims’ sufferings under Hussein, but own-group identification – in this case to a religious sect – dominated compassion and morality. It is difficult to see as of 2009 how Iraq can become a viable democracy. Group identities are strong, and each group puts its interests ahead of the collective interests of Iraq. The victory of Iraq’s national football team in an international tournament united the three fractions briefly in celebration, but the unity was short-lived. The existence of a common set of goals, which is necessary for founding a liberal democracy, does not exist in Iraq. The only viable long-run solutions for the country that will eliminate the sectarian violence are either a division into three parts with each group controlling one part or the introduction of a dictatorial regime that imposes order in much the same way as Hussein did. This time, however, the dictator is likely to be a Shiite. Many instances of violence over religion have not been in democracies. One should not conclude from this, however, that such violence and discrimination is unlikely in a democracy. The expression “tyranny of the majority” was not invented to describe monarchy or dictatorship. Nevertheless, one might argue that a constitutional democracy with protection

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for religious minorities is compatible with both democratic institutions and religious diversity. We now turn to this possibility.

III. Constitutional Rights and Religious Tolerance In Chapter Eleven, religious freedom was used to illustrate the properties of constitutional rights. At the constitutional stage, everyone believes that the future benefits from individuals having religious freedom will be very great, and any external costs on the rest of the community will be quite small. When these conditions are met, and all of the community is uncertain over whether it will be their religion or someone else’s that might someday come under attack, a community will unanimously agree to a constitutional right to practice one’s religion. The importance of uncertainty for the creation of rights is nicely illustrated by the different treatments of religious freedom and slavery in the U.S. Constitution. Many colonies contained people, like the Pilgrims, who had fled religious persecution in Europe. They knew it was possible for members of one religion to turn on another, and could well imagine that history might repeat itself in the United States. The First Amendment’s prohibition against Congress making a law prohibiting “the free exercise of religion” provided protection against discrimination for all religious minorities. On the other hand, the lack of uncertainty among those at the Philadelphia convention over whether they or their descendants would be slaves or slave owners in the future resulted in this “peculiar institution’s” perpetuation. In a country with a dominant religious group, the veil of ignorance at the constitutional stage might not be thick enough to induce people to weigh the costs on those who do not belong to the dominant religion from restrictions on religious practices. Moreover, if members of the dominant religion thought that it was extremely important for their welfare that everyone practice their religion, they might well restrict religious freedom and any free-speech rights as far as they pertain to criticism or expressions of skepticism about the dominant religion. Even freedoms of religion and speech are likely to vary across communities and thus be relative. Religious tolerance was part of the Enlightenment’s “reform agenda,” and the authors of the U.S. Constitution were acquainted with European writings on toleration. As religion’s importance waned among intellectuals during the Enlightenment, it became increasingly apparent that religious differences were not worth killing and dying for. Today, religious toleration is regarded as a core European value. It must be recognized, however, that this core value exists in countries for which religion has lost much of its

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importance for even the average citizen. Such tolerance is unlikely where religion is still regarded as a central component of day-to-day living, and may disappear in any country that experiences a revival of religiosity. Here it should be mentioned that intolerance is not characteristic of all religions. It is more likely in religions containing a “holistic vision” of society – such as Christianity and Islam.8 In On Liberty, John Stuart Mill recognized the likely intolerance of religious persons. After acknowledging the contribution of “the great writers” who asserted that freedom of conscience is “an indefeasible right,” Mill noted soberly: Yet so natural to mankind is intolerance in whatever they are really about, that religious freedom has hardly anywhere been practically realized, except where religious indifference, which dislikes to have its peace disturbed by theological quarrels, has added its weight to the scale. In the minds of almost all religious persons, even in most tolerant countries, the duty of toleration is admitted with tacit reserves. One person will bear with dissent in matters of church government, but not of dogma; another can tolerate everybody, short of a Papist or a Unitarian; another everyone who believes in revealed religion; a few extend their charity a little farther, but stop at the belief in a God and a future state. Wherever the sentiment of the majority is still genuine and intense, it is found to have abated little its claim to be obeyed. (John Stuart Mill, [1859]1939, pp. 954–5)

Indeed, it is difficult to see how a truly religious person can be tolerant of other religions. Her religion tells her there is but one true God – the God of her religion – and that only those who believe in this God and follow His or Her commandments will enter Heaven. Followers of other religions are breaking God’s laws. If one does not want to live in a community where people are free to break man-made laws, how can a religious person live where people break God’s laws? Surely enforcing God’s laws is more important to a religious person than enforcing civil laws. The nonbeliever can easily be attacked when he lives in the same country as the believer. If church and state are combined, the state can be used to eliminate infidelity, as happened in Christendom during the Inquisition and happens in some Islamic countries today.9 If the state is in the hands of the infidels or is a secular state, then it is the state itself that must be attacked. Here we can think of the Christians’ struggle against the pagan Rome or the struggles of Muslim extremists in some Middle East countries today against their own governments. Lewis quotes from a booklet by Muhammad ‘Abd 8 9

This is the conclusion reached by Anderson (2003) in his study of religious freedom in the transition countries of Southern and Eastern Europe. Saudi Arabia’s morality police, a branch of the state, arrest, beat, and sometimes kill people for transgressions against the Koran – like drinking beer (MacLeod, 2007).

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al-Sal¯am Faraj that was “the ideological guide of the group that murdered President Sadat of Egypt.” Fighting the near enemy is more important than fighting the distant enemy. In jih¯ad the blood of the Muslims must flow until victory is achieved . . . It is our duty to concentrate on our Islamic cause, which means first and foremost establishing God’s law in our country, and causing the word of God to prevail. There can be no doubt that the first battle field of the jih¯ad is the extirpation of these infidel leaderships and their replacement by a perfect Islamic order. From this will come release. (Lewis, 2002, pp. 119–20)

If a Muslim extremist cannot tolerate purportedly Muslim regimes as in Egypt and Saudi Arabia, he, of course, could never tolerate a secular government. Thus, not surprisingly, “the arch-enemy for most [Muslim radicals and militants] is Kemal Atat¨urk, the founder of the Turkish Republic and the first great secularizing reformer in the Muslim world.”10 Muslim children in Berlin public schools are taught “In the name of Allah. There are two types of people, the one kind is our brothers and sisters in belief, we are tied to the other kind by being humans.”11 Presumably, the connection through belief is stronger than through mere genetics, and the first type of people are superior to the second. In addition to the difficulty religious persons have tolerating different beliefs, there is a natural tendency to want to save the nonbeliever. Following Mill’s fundamental principle of liberty requires that one not interfere with a person’s liberty, even if it is for “his own good, physical or moral.” Yet religious persons believe that their God is the one, true God, and that only members of their religion will join God in the afterlife. Their nonbelieving neighbors face an eternity in Hell. To prevent this, religious persons are certainly morally justified in compelling belief in their God. With arguments such as these, clerics rationalized torturing heretics during the Inquisition. If the torture induced the hapless victim to admit his heresy and accept the one true God, his agony and early death on Earth would be compensated for by an eternity with the true God in Heaven. The Supreme Court’s strict interpretation of the First Amendment’s prohibition against a state religion has made the United States a secular society as far as government policies and state-funded education are concerned. Yet this record of success is now threatened by a determined religious majority. A born-again Christian occupied the White House from 2001 to 2009. President George W. Bush surrounded himself with more evangelists than 10 11

Lewis (2002, p. 119). Kelek (2005, p. 248), author’s translation.

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any other president in the previous fifty years.12 As Michael Gerson, evangelist and speech writer for George W. Bush, noted, evangelism bestows on its adherents “a depth of commitment [that compels them to action] because you think it’s true and right.”13 Those evangelists who go into politics are driven by the desire to implement policies grounded in their faith.14 Nor is the surge of religious thinking limited to the executive branch. Today, Congress is filled with representatives who try to outdo one another in attending prayer breakfasts. Perhaps most dangerous of all, the Supreme Court is now stocked with justices “devoted to religion, . . . pious, godly, [and] devout.” During the Bush administration religion influenced research funding on AIDS and stem cells, and U.S. foreign policy for fighting AIDS and population control. Religious groups have been successful introducing intelligent design as an alternative “theory” to Darwinian evolution in school curricula. The wall separating church and state has never looked more porous. In Europe, “religious indifference” has combined with Enlightenment thinking to create a tolerant, secular society. It, too, is under threat from the rise of a new religiosity, however. Free speech is one of liberal democracy’s most fundamental constitutional rights. This right allowed Martin Scorsese to produce The Last Temptation of Christ, in which Christ dreams of making love to Mary Magdalene while on the cross; Mel Gibson to produce The Passion of Christ with graphic scenes of Christ’s brutal treatment at the hands of Jews; and allowed the publication of Dan Brown’s wildly popular novel and later film The Da Vinci Code, which revolves around Christ having been married to Mary Magdalene and fathering a child. The first and third of these offended many Christians and produced some protest demonstrations. Gibson’s film offended some Jews. However, each work was protected by the free speech rights prevalent in Western democracies, and none of the authors, directors, or actors involved with them appears to have been seriously threatened with violence. Each work created a psychological externality that imposed some costs on various religious people. Yet in a liberal democracy, these costs are deemed subordinate to the community’s free speech right. In 2004, Theo Van Gogh produced a movie, Submission, critical of women’s treatment in Islamic communities. Shortly after its release, Van Gogh’s throat was slit. His body was found with a knife stabbed into his chest 12 13 14

Lindsay (2007, p. 26). Lindsay (2007, p. 33). Lindsay (2007, p. 39).

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with a note attached that threatened Western governments, Jews, and Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a Sudanese migrant to Holland, who wrote the film’s screenplay. Van Gogh’s slayer Mohammed Bouyeri was captured before he could carry out his threats, but fellow Muslims did succeed in striking a blow against the West in July 2005 when London subway trains and a bus were targeted by suicide bombers. Had Dan Brown published The Da Vinci Code in seventeenth-century Spain, he would have soon found himself stretched across the rack. In the intervening centuries, Christians and Jews in the West have learned to live with the psychological externalities such books create. Some spokesmen for the Catholic Church did question The Da Vinci Code’s historical accuracy, but most chose simply to ignore it. No one was compelled to see The Last Temptation of Christ or to read The Da Vinci Code, and thus those who might be troubled by their content could avoid the potential psychological costs by simply ignoring them if they so chose. However, just as it was not possible for Christians to ignore challenges to their dogmas during the last millennium, it is impossible today for some Muslims to ignore what they construe to be challenges to their dogmas. The cartoons of the Mohammed published in a Danish newspaper might well have gone unnoticed by the world if a Muslim cleric living in Denmark had not gone to the Middle East and stirred up outrage against them. He succeeded, and scores of people died in the subsequent rioting. Perhaps, no single recent incident illustrates the incompatibility of liberal democracy and extreme religiosity better than the uproar over the cartoons. It is worth noting first, that the newspaper that first published them did so because a Danish author of a book on Mohammed could find no one brave enough to illustrate it. The paper Jyllands-Posten won the Victor Prize for its defense of free speech. At the same time, a Pakistani cleric offered a million dollars for killing the cartoonist. The newspaper’s editor Carsten Juste defended his right to publish the cartoons: “We live in a democracy. That’s why we can use all the journalistic methods we want to. Satire is accepted in this country, and you can make caricatures.” Raed Hlayhel, a Danish imam, responded that, “This type of democracy is worthless for Muslims. Muslims will never accept this kind of humiliation. The article has insulted every Muslim in the world.”15 What Hlayhel appears not to understand is that “this type of democracy” is of great value to those with liberal, Western values, because it took the better part of a millennium to reach the point where one could publish a cartoon about religion without risking death – or so it seemed. 15

See http://www.brusselsjournal.com/node/382.

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The violent reactions of religious extremists to Van Gogh’s film and the Danish cartoons have significantly weakened the free speech right in Europe. The threat of violent protests or even assassination has led to self-censorship, not only in the printed media, but even in the opera houses and art galleries of Europe.16 Theo Van Gogh was a descendant of the famous artist’s brother also named Theo. Even without such lustrous lineage his name is immediately recognized as Dutch. Mohammed Bouyeri was also a Dutch citizen, but his roots in Holland did not extend as far back as Van Gogh’s. He obviously also did not share Van Gogh’s liberalism. Since World War II, the Netherlands has gone from being a rather homogeneous country as far as ethnicity, language, and religion is concerned to one in which nearly 20 percent of the population are not Dutch, with some 6 percent being Muslim. Similar transitions have occurred in other Western European countries. The United States has demonstrated the tremendous potential benefits from a liberal immigration policy. Van Gogh’s murder, the train bombings in Madrid on March 11, 2003, the London bombings of July 2005, and the uproar over the Danish cartoons have demonstrated that a liberal immigration policy can also have its costs when members of the immigrant group do not accept the basic principles on which liberal democracy rests. The dogmas that underlie universal religions are inherently intolerant of other religions to some degree and to secular values to a considerable degree. When some people value their religious dogmas more than the principles underlying liberal democracy, liberal democracy is threatened. In America, this threat comes from a Christian faction seeking to impose its beliefs and strictures on the rest of the community. In Europe, it has come from the outside, but now is firmly established in a Muslim minority that rejects Europe’s secular, liberal values and institutions. Because this religious community is a minority so far, it cannot use the democratic process to achieve its aims as evangelical Christians can in parts of the United States, and thus it has been forced to resort to violence. In both cases, however, the growing strength of the pious, godly, and devout poses a threat to liberal democracy.

IV. Constitutional Rights and Sexual Tolerance The Declaration of Independence famously proclaims that Americans have a right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Sexual relationships give pleasure and contribute to individuals’ happiness. Sex has always been 16

See Wikstrom (2007).

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a taboo subject, however, and thus I know of no constitution that explicitly guarantees individual rights to engage in sexual intercourse. The U.S. Supreme Court has interpreted such acts as protected by the Ninth Amendment: “The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.” The Court has reasoned that privacy is one of the rights retained by the people and that various actions related to sex fall under the heading of privacy. If liberalism means, as Mill said it does, the freedom to do what one likes so long as it does not harm others, then it is difficult to imagine how a liberal constitution could not protect a citizen’s freedom to have a sexual relationship with a consenting adult, regardless of whether they are married or even of the same sex. Historically, however, religions have opposed both freedoms, and many countries still ban one or the other form of relationship. The Ninth Amendment was used in 1965 to overturn a Connecticut law banning the sale of contraceptives.17 Thus, Americans can enjoy the right to engage in unencumbered sexual intercourse without risk or fear of pregnancy. Since 1973, women have had a limited right to an abortion. The Catholic Church and some Protestant sects regard both contraceptives and abortions as immoral, however.18 Having had great political success in curtailing women’s rights to abortions, fundamentalist religious groups have recently turned their attention back on contraception. Some see contraceptives as just another form of abortion that interferes with God’s will. As one activist reasoned, somewhat illogically, “Contraception is the root cause of the explosion of the amount of abortion in the world.”19 It is presumably only a matter of time before fundamentalist religious groups in the United States demand legislation prohibiting the sale of contraceptives. Because the Ninth Amendment makes no explicit mention of sex, abortions, or contraceptives, or even privacy for that matter, Americans’ rights with respect to all four rest shakily on the Supreme Court’s interpretation of the rights retained by the citizens. Should an increasingly religious Supreme Court interpret the Ninth Amendment differently from its predecessors, Americans could find their rights with respect to matters of sex greatly curtailed. The precariousness of individual freedoms with regards to sexual relationships was revealed in the battles over same-sex marriages in California. A constitutional right for homosexuals to marry would seem defensible 17 18

19

Griswold v. Connecticut, 1965. I take up the issue of the morality of the use of contraceptives later in the chapter. Here I am only concerned with whether the U.S. Constitution can protect individuals’ rights to use them against a religious majority. Statement by Helen Mazur of Philadelphia as quoted by Graham (2006).

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under our theory of rights – the two people who marry obtain great utility from the action and it does not harm other parties. Yet such logic ignores the psychological externalities caused by same-sex marriages on those who believe them to be immoral. Thus, in November 2008, a majority of slightly less than 53 percent of those voting on Proposition 8 amended the California Constitution to prohibit same-sex marriages. A narrow majority was able to deny some individuals in California a basic liberty that is not explicitly protected in the Constitution.

V. Religion, Democracy, Science, and Public Policy A. Scientific Knowledge It is not particularly surprising that people with strong religious views are intolerant of other religions or secular values. Strong religious views are associated with intolerance for the rights and opinions of others, which goes beyond religious and moral questions. Studies going back to the 1950s have found a negative correlation between tolerance and religion, a correlation that gets weaker the more education a person has.20 Unquestioning fundamentalism appears to be particularly antithetical to democratic values. . . . prejudice and anti-democratic sentiments are not associated with religion per se, but with certain aspects of religion that are bound up with intellectual rigidity, closed-mindedness, and social conformity. (Klosko, 2000, p. 94)

This closed-mindedness and conformity also makes people with strong religious convictions inhospitable to new ideas and science in general. This aversion to scientific thinking creates yet another incompatibility between religion and democracy. In an ideal liberal democracy, citizens should be well-educated and sufficiently concerned about the community to become informed about public issues and participate actively in the democratic process. The issues confronting us today – global warming, the spread of AIDS, possible pan-world epidemics, terrorism, how to finance aging citizens’ needs – are complex and may require complex solutions. If citizens are to decide these issues, either directly or by selecting representatives, then they must possess sufficient education and intelligence to understand the issues and be willing to acquire sufficient knowledge to make the correct choices. Much of this knowledge is of a scientific character. If religion makes one hostile to scientific thinking and new ideas, then it constitutes a barrier 20

See Stouffer (1955, ch. 4) and discussion and references in Klosko (2000, pp. 44–50).

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that prevents individuals from acquiring the knowledge needed to acquit themselves as good citizens. Considerable survey evidence supports this contention.21 The essence of scientific method is to question everything and keep on questioning. The Greeks were such great scientists because of their inquisitive minds. Christianity’s emphasis on blind belief makes it inherently hostile to science and scientific thinking. One of Christianity’s central doctrines is that Christ will return to Earth to judge the living and the dead. The imagery conjured up by this belief has inspired many great artists to vivid depictions. The prediction of a second coming is attributed to Christ himself. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all report Christ as saying to those disciples who witnessed his transfiguration on the Holy Mount, “Truly I say to you, there are some of those who are standing here who shall not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming to His kingdom.” Elsewhere Matthew and Luke report Christ as saying in reference to the events of his second coming: “This generation will not pass away until all of these things have taken place.” Thus, Christ not only predicted the second coming, but predicted it during his listeners’ lifetime. This prediction is now off by some two thousand years. One might expect that this discrepancy would shake the faith of Christians in Christ’s omniscience or in the veracity of the Bible’s accounts – attributed to Matthew, Mark, and Luke – of what he said. But no, 79 percent of American Christians believe in a second coming with the percentages rising to 95 percent for white evangelicals and 92 percent for black Protestants. Roughly one-third of white evangelists and black Protestants believe, just as Christ’s disciples did, that the second coming will be in their lifetimes. Such unwillingness to change opinions in the face of contradictory evidence is not what one usually associates with an open and inquisitive mind. It is also worth recalling that Mohammed predicted the imminent appearance of God and a day of judgment. The judgment day’s immediacy greatly helped Mohammed convert people to Islam and induce them to fight and die for the religion. Although the Catholic Church eventually came to accept Copernican theory regarding the Earth’s circling the sun, National Science Foundation surveys report that some 20 percent of Americans are still not convinced.22 This disbelief pales in comparison with scepticism over Darwin’s theory of evolution, however, and once again religion is at the heart of the disbelief. 21

22

The survey evidence reported here comes from a survey of 2003 adults conducted by the Pew Research Center over the period July 6–19, 2006, as reported in http://people-press. org/reports/display.php3?PageID=1081. Jacoby (2008, p. xvii).

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Sixty-five percent of white evangelicals believe that “humans and other living things have always existed in their present form only,” while the same is true for only 12 percent describing themselves as secular. The percentages for other Christian groups fall in between. Among the 28 percent of white evangelicals who believe that humans and other living things have evolved, more than 70 percent believe that the evolutionary process has been guided by a supreme being. Only 6 percent of all white evangelicals accept the theory of natural selection as opposed to 69 percent of secularists. The evangelicals can draw support from former President George W. Bush, who believes that, “On the issue of evolution, the verdict is still out,” and advocates teaching both evolutionary theory and creative design as competing “theories” about the origins of life.23 Natural selection is in direct conflict with a literal interpretation of the Book of Genesis, and so it is not surprising that those holding strong Christian beliefs have trouble accepting it. To my knowledge, however, the Bible says nothing about global warming. Thus, if religious beliefs are not antithetical to scientific evidence, the acceptance of scientific evidence regarding global warming should be unrelated to religious views. This, however, is not the case. Seventy percent of white evangelicals believe that “there is solid evidence that the earth is getting warmer” as opposed to 88 percent of secularists. Moreover, only about half of the evangelicals who accept the evidence for global warming attribute it to human activity, whereas the figure for secularists is more than 70 percent.

B. Foreign Policy The most important political issue in America following September 11, 2001, was terrorism. George W. Bush made the “war on terrorism” the center point of his presidency. Bush emphasized that this was not a war against Islam or a “clash of civilizations,” but rather a war against a tiny minority bent on terrorist acts. An important part of the Bush strategy was supposed to be to win “the hearts and minds” of Muslims in the Middle East and to bring democracy to this part of the world. Neither of these goals was accomplished. An important reason for this failure was the continuing conflict in Palestine. The vast majority of Muslims see Israel as oppressor of the Palestinian people and the United States as Israel’s supporter. This perception of bias for 23

Quote is from http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/1866476.stm. See also, Baker and Slevin (2005).

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Israel was greatly reinforced by Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in the summer of 2006. In response to an attack on one of its military outposts and the capture of two of its soldiers, Israel destroyed massive amounts of Lebanon’s infrastructure and killed hundreds of civilians, including many women and children. Although much of the non-Arab and all of the Arab world saw this as an unjustified overreaction, the United States not only failed to criticize Israel but was seen as standing behind it. As a consequence, many Muslims today see the United States and Israel as twin evils and draw close parallels between the U.S. occupation of Iraq and sufferings of the Iraqis, and Israel’s occupation of Palestine and the Palestinians’ suffering. The United States’ unquestioning support for Israel and mishandling of the occupation of Iraq have so alienated the Arab community that there were far more young Muslims willing to sacrifice their lives to harm the United States in September 2006 than on September 11, 2001. How can one explain the U.S. bias in favor of Israel alongside the wish to reduce the threat of terrorism by making Muslims less antagonistic toward the United States? American Jews strongly favor a pro-Israel foreign policy, and the power of the “Jewish lobby” should not be underestimated. Yet Jews are far too small a minority to bring about a foreign policy so strongly at odds with America’s interests. Without the strong support of a large fraction of the Christian community, the United States would most likely not have adopted such a strong, pro-Israel stance. According to a Pew Research survey, 42 percent of Americans and 69 percent of evangelicals believe that the territory of Israel was given by God to the Jews. Seventy percent of those who think that the Bible is the literal word of God believe that God gave Israel to the Jews. The Pew survey also inquired about whether a person’s sympathies were more with Israel, the Palestinians, or both. The responses are summarized in Table 13.1. Table 13.1. Sympathies on Mideast U.S. policy Sympathies more with (in percent)

Israel was given by God to Jews Yes No Israel is the fulfillment of biblical prophecy Yes No Source: http://people-press.org/reports/pdf/287.pdf.

Israel

Palestinians

Both

63 36

4 18

16 30

60 38

7 14

14 32

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An additional factor leading Christians to sympathize with Israel is the belief that when the second coming takes place, Christ will return to Israel, and they want the country to be in safe hands. Thus, an important reason for America’s extreme unpopularity among Muslims is that for many Americans – Jews and Christians alike – U.S. foreign policy in the Middle East is not a matter of determining what is in America’s best interests, but a matter of religious beliefs.

C. Democracy The hallmark, if not the very definition, of democracy is that political outcomes have a positive relationship to citizens’ preferences or that outcomes reflect “the will of the people” in some nontrivial sense. The question in the Pew survey that most clearly illustrates the incompatibility of religion and democracy asks individuals whether the Bible or the will of the American people should have more influence on U.S. laws. The responses are given in Table 13.2. Almost twice as many evangelicals believe that U.S. laws should be based on the Bible rather than the will of the American people. Table 13.2. What should influence U.S. laws? Which should have more influence on U.S. laws (in percent)? The will of the American people

The Bible

34 91 75 47

60 7 20 46

White evangelicals Secular College graduate Less than high school education Source: http://people-press.org/reports/pdf/287.pdf.

Fundamentalist Christians are not alone in preferring the word of God to the word of ordinary citizens in determining the laws. “In the Muslim conception, God is the true sovereign of the community, the ultimate source of authority, the sole source of legislation. In the first extant Muslim account of the British House of Commons, written by a visitor who went to England at the end of the eighteenth century, the writer expresses his astonishment at the fate of a people who, unlike the Muslims, did not have a divine revealed law, and were therefore reduced to the pitiable expedient of enacting their

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own laws.”24 Today, more extreme Muslims also wish to see their laws based on the Koran. Thus, both devout Christians and devout Muslims believe that the will of God should take precedence over the will of the people in determining their community’s laws. They differ only in their views as to which holy book describes God’s will. Outcomes of a democratic process can only be as good as the inputs. If citizens are uneducated or uninterested in politics, democratic institutions are unlikely to produce good outcomes. Not every citizen needs a doctorate in chemistry or sociology for a democracy to function well, but they should be able to judge the consequences of various government policies. They should have a scientist’s healthy skepticism and proclivity for asking questions. If a political party promises to end unemployment in the next four years, the citizen should inquire as to why all parties have failed to do this for the previous twenty years? If a politician claims there is no scientific evidence of global warming, the citizen must ask why so many of the climatic changes that are predicted, if there is global warming – melting ice caps and glaciers, extreme droughts in some places and flooding in others, hurricanes and tornados of unprecedented intensities – seem to be occurring? Any person with a good education and an open mind can obtain a sufficient understanding of the important issues to hold politicians accountable.

D. AIDS Policy Religion poses a threat to democracy by closing a portion of the mind and preventing individuals from asking certain questions. The devout accept what is written in the holy book no matter how implausible some of its content is. The devout must obey without questioning the commands of the holy men. Yet if the holy book or the holy men are wrong, such uncritical habits of thinking by citizens in a democracy will lead to bad policies and undesirable political outcomes. The United States’ Middle East policy is one example of how religion can adversely affect public policy; its AIDS policy under the Bush administration was another. On January 28, 2003, Bush unveiled the President’s Plan for AIDS Relief in Africa.25 It was based on “the ‘ABC’ model (Abstinence, Be faithful, or use Condoms, in that priority).” Jodi Jacobs, executive director of the Center for Health and Gender Equity, reported that abstinence was, indeed, given the highest priority in the U.S. AIDS policy, with 70 percent of funding 24 25

Lewis (2002, p. 127), footnote omitted. See http://usinfo.state.gov/gi/Archive/2003/Jul/03–85849.html.

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for AIDS prevention in Nigeria, and 95 percent in Tanzania going toward instructing African girls to abstain from sexual intercourse.26 According to Stephen Lewis, UN special envoy for HIV/AIDS to Africa, U.S. policy had been a failure.27 The Center for Health and Gender Equity gave the following explanation for the ABC strategy’s failure: The U.S. Strategy is based on a series of assumptions about the spread of HIV that represent ideological agendas rather than evidence-based analysis. These myths include:

r Marriage is a protective factor against HIV infection. r The majority of adolescents in focus countries are not sexually active, and adolescents, whether currently sexually active or not, can be persuaded to practice abstinence without failure “until marriage.” r Women and girls can control “abstinence and faithfulness.”28

The ideology underlying the ABC strategy was obviously Christian – sexual intercourse that is not undertaken to procreate is sinful and should be prevented. This ideology also underlay U.S. opposition to birth-control devices and abortions for population control in developing countries under the Bush administration. The misguided ABC strategy harmed U.S. citizens only in that tax dollars were wasted on an ineffective policy. The real costs were borne by the thousands of Africans who contracted HIV, but could have remained healthy if the United States had had an evidence-based rather than ideology-based policy. Here it might also be noted that several studies in the United States and other developed countries reveal that programs to prevent AIDS by advocating “abstinence only” have been ineffective there too.29

VI. Religion and Traditionalism Although religion is an important component of traditionalism, traditionalism goes beyond beliefs in invisible gods and spirits to encompass a world view about the sources of knowledge and the potential for progress, both scientific and social. Traditionalist societies look to the past for guidance. 26 27

28 29

See http://www.guardian.co.uk/international/story/0,1844633,00.html. See again, http://www.guardian.co.uk/international/story/0,1844633,00.html. In this article, Bill Gates also criticizes the ABC model. Gates’s foundation has been heavily involved in providing development aid to African countries. See http://www.genderhealth.org/pubs/WomenAIDS.pdf#search=%22US%20AIDS% 20Africa%22. See Underhill, Operario, and Montgomery (2007).

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Wisdom was discovered by the ancients and has been passed down for generations. Traditionalist societies are, therefore, inherently conservative and consensual. By contrast, progressive societies are forward looking and competitive. Past wisdom must compete with present knowledge, and if past wisdom is found wanting, it is discarded. Progressives tend to be optimists and traditionalist/conservatives pessimists. No society contains only progressives or traditionalists, and each individual might be progressive and optimistic about some matters and traditionalist about others. Indeed, it is often remarked that people pass from progressive/optimist to traditionalist/conservative over the course of their lives. This is not surprising. The twenty year old has much to look forward to; the seventy year old has little to look forward to and much to look back on.

A. Progressivism and Traditionalism in the United States The struggle between progressivism and traditionalism has gone on for much of the United States’ history, and continues today at an intensity unmatched among the rich, developed countries. The differences between the two sides were nicely illustrated in the famous Scopes or monkey trial of 1925. Clarence Darrow, one of the early twentieth century’s greatest trial lawyers, defended a young high school teacher who had broken a Tennessee law that forbade teaching Darwin’s theory of evolution. Darrow succinctly summarized the progressive’s philosophy: “ . . . every child ought to be more intelligent than his parents.”30 William Jennings Bryan, threetime candidate for president, was brought in to help the prosecution. He, too, neatly encapsulated the traditionalists’ position: “All the ills from which America suffers can be traced back to the teaching of evolution. It would be better to destroy every other book ever written, and save just the first three verses of Genesis.”31 The trial’s whole purpose was “to vindicate the right of parents to guard the religion of their children . . . ”32 Here we have in a nutshell the conflicting positions of progressives and traditionalists. Traditionalists do not want their children to know more than they do – indeed, there is nothing new to learn because it was all recorded in the Bible (or Koran, or Talmud, or . . . ) centuries ago. If they cannot change what is taught in the schools, they remove their children from them. 30 31 32

Hofstadter (1963, p. 127). Hofstadter (1963, p. 125). Hofstadter (1963, p. 127).

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Amish parents seek to limit their children to the knowledge and lifestyle of the eighteenth century. Those – like the U.S. Supreme Court – who allow them to do so in the name of protecting a cultural right deny Amish children the opportunity to obtain the knowledge and experience the lifestyle of the twenty-first century. The grip of the past triumphs over the promise of the future. In a way, it is surprising that traditionalism and hostility to new ideas should have such a strong hold in America, because the country was founded by men who symbolized the spirit of the Enlightenment – scientists, philosophers, historians. When has the country again enjoyed an array of intellectual talent at the pinnacles of political power – John Adams, John Dickinson, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, George Mason, James Wilson, George Wythe – as at the founding? An Adams, a Jefferson, or a Madison could be elected president at the beginning of the nineteenth century in part because the voting franchise in many states was limited to men with some property or tax obligations and thus also with some education. As the voting franchise spread during the nineteenth century, the electorate’s income and education levels declined. John Quincy Adams’ election in 1920 brought to an end the early string of presidents whom one might call intellectuals. During the 1824 election against Andrew Jackson, hero of the Battle of New Orleans, the following slogan was popular. The election was between John Quincy Adams who can write And Andrew Jackson who can fight.

Jackson trounced Adams and the era of “the common man” had begun.33 The Scopes trial was a high point in the culture war between progressives and traditionalists, but it has by no means been a unique event. Evangelical movements arose in America in the seventeenth century and have waxed and waned ever since.34 As recently as the 2008 presidential campaign, Republican candidate Mike Huckabee won several state primaries in no small part because he was a Baptist minister who did not believe in evolution theory. The most important qualification of the eventual Republican vicepresidential nominee Sarah Palin appears to have been that she did not have an abortion when the child that she was carrying had Down syndrome. Palin pitched her campaign at the “Joe six-packs” and “soccer moms” of 33 34

Hofstadter (1963, pp. 155–9). Hofstadter (1963).

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America and made many derogatory references to those intellectuals with higher educations. The anti-intellectualism that Huckabee and Palin symbolize has dominated American politics for some time now, particularly among the Republicans. President Dwight D. Eisenhower once favorably repeated a “ . . . definition of an intellectual . . . [as] a man who takes more words than are necessary to tell more than he knows.”35 Ronald Reagan and wife and advisor Nancy are reported to have consulted the stars and those who could read them before making decisions, just as the Sumerians did six thousand years ago.36 George W. Bush, the born-again Christian, has “his doubts about the theory of evolution.” The only Republican candidate for president since World War II whom one might label an intellectual was Barry Goldwater, defeated in a major landslide by someone who no one would call an intellectual – Lyndon B. Johnson. The contrast between most recent U.S. presidents and those elected immediately after the founding could not be greater. America has paid dearly from traditionalism’s hold on it. Its costs can again be divided into two categories – intolerance of others’ lifestyles and bad government. The former include pogroms against religious minorities dating back as far as the Salem witch trials of the early seventeenth century. Here too it should be recalled that racist groups like the Ku Klux Klan also typically claim to be both Christian and white. Laws against sexual relationships between whites and blacks and between homosexuals; laws against the sale of alcohol, the sale of birth-control devices, and against abortions all reflect one segment of the population imposing its religious strictures on the rest. Perhaps the most glaring and disastrous intrusion on other people’s lives by religious traditionalists was Prohibition, which not only interfered with millions of Americans’ freedom of choice, but also fostered a tremendous growth in organized crime. We have discussed several U.S. policies that have been shaped by the religious Right in a way that is harmful to American interests – the ABC policy on AIDS, foreign policy with respect to Israel and Palestine. Yet religious traditionalism in politics can also impact the government’s general approach to policy. Richard Hofstadter described the link between religious fundamentalism and conservative views of the world in the following way: The fundamentalist mind . . . is essentially Manichean; it looks upon the world as an arena for conflict between absolute good and absolute evil, and accordingly 35 36

Hofstadter (1963, p. 10) emphasis in the original. Regan (1988) and Quigley (1990).

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it scorns compromises (who could compromise with Satan?) and can tolerate no ambiguities. It cannot find serious importance in what it believes to be trifling degrees of difference . . . Whereas the distinctively political intelligence begins with the political world, and attempts to make an assessment of how far a given set of goals can in fact be realized in the face of a certain balance of opposing forces, the secularized fundamentalist mind begins with a definition of that which is absolutely right, and looks upon politics as an arena in which that right must be realized.37

Upon reading these lines, one immediately recalls the Bush administration’s demonizing Saddam Hussein and his speech about the “axis of evil.” Hofstadter penned these lines almost a half century ago, and yet they are a perfect description of the mindset of the administration of George W. Bush that led to the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, decisions that have cost thousands of American and Iraqi lives and trillions of dollars, and which have brought neither peace to the Middle East nor an end to the war on terrorism. This black-and-white, good-and-evil view of the world can be linked to Bush’s religious zeal and that of many in his administration. The faith of evangelists provides them with a larger sense of meaning, purpose, and a depth of commitment based on their beliefs that what they think must be true and right.38 Sadly, despite the obvious failure of George W. Bush’s approach to foreign policy, the Republican candidates in 2008 saw the world in similar good-and-evil terms. Sarah Palin, for example, stated in an attack on Obama that “We see America as the greatest force for good in the world.”39

B. Progressivism and Traditionalism in Europe The conflict between progressivism and traditionalism in Europe is somewhat different than in the United States. In some of the poorer EU countries like Poland, religion and traditionalism still have a strong hold on a large section of the population. In richer EU countries, however, with the exception of a few pockets of traditionalism like the Basque region in France and Spain and the Roma (gypsies) in Eastern Europe, traditionalism is largely a spent force. Cultural differences, like language, remain important, but very few Europeans are willing to shed blood to protect them. Religious fundamentalism of the kind so often found in America is almost nonexistent in Europe – unless one counts its immigrants. Conflict between progressivism and traditionalism in Europe is largely a conflict between 37 38 39

Hofstadter (1963, pp. 134–5). Lindsay (2007, pp. 29–33). As reported on CNN, October 5, 2008.

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European modernism and secularism and Islamic traditionalism and fundamentalism. Here it is important to point out that all Muslim immigrants to Europe are not Islamic traditionalists and religious fundamentalists, just as all Poles are not conservative Catholics. Nevertheless, a far greater portion of Poland’s population can be categorized as conservative Catholics than is true for Catholic Spain and Italy. A greater portion of Muslim immigrants are Islamic traditionalists and religious fundamentalists than is true of the indigenous population. All conflicts between Muslims and non-Muslims in Europe in recent years can be attributed to differences in the weights given to modern, secular values and traditional, fundamentalist ones. If the size of the Muslim population continues to grow, these conflicts can be expected to increase unless Europe takes steps to prevent them.

VII. Religion and Citizenship As stressed several times, well-functioning democracies require citizens who take their civic duties seriously, become well-informed about public issues, and vote for parties or policies that are most likely to increase community welfare. Implicit in the notion of a good citizen is a certain community loyalty – patriotism if you will – that leads the citizen to associate her interests with the community’s. With luck, citizens will think of the polity as “their group” and some of their instinctive group loyalties will transfer over to the political community. Religion can undermine the democratic process if loyalty to the religious group displaces loyalty to the political community. In the extreme case, religious loyalty can lead to actions that harm the community. Islam and the Islamic state – the Caliphate – came into existence at the same time and thus, in the Muslim world, the distinction between religion and state has never been as sharp as in Christian countries since at least the end of the eighteenth century. Territorial states existed, of course, but the good Muslim did not identify with them in the same way that the good Frenchman or Swede identifies with his state.40 Ask someone in Paris or Stockholm “What are you?” and his most likely answer would be a Frenchman or a Swede – unless he happened to be a Muslim, in which case he would most likely say a Muslim. “About a third of French schoolchildren of Muslim origin see their faith rather than a passport or skin colour as the main thing that defines them.”41 “A Pew poll of Muslims worldwide 40 41

Lewis (2002, pp. 114–15). Economist, June 24, 2006, pp. 29–34.

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found that 81 percent of British Muslims said they thought of themselves as Muslims first and a citizen of Britain second. In the survey that proportion was exceeded only by that in Pakistan.”42 Thinking of oneself as a Muslim first and a British citizen second does no harm to democracy if being a Muslim means praying on Friday and being a British citizen means voting on Sunday, and when one votes one has in mind Britain’s welfare. If, on the other hand, identifying first with Islam means identifying more closely with fellow Muslims in other countries than with fellow Britains when the two perceptions of identity conflict, then a good Muslim will sacrifice the welfare of fellow Britains for that of fellow Muslims. Many Americans, including its political leaders, see themselves at war with terrorism. Some Muslims see America’s occupation of Afghanistan and Iraq and its unwavering support for Israel as implying that it is really at war with Islam and thus an enemy of all Muslims. European countries like Spain, Great Britain, Germany, Denmark, and still others that have sent troops to Afghanistan or Iraq, or that seem too sympathetic to Israel, become fellow enemies of loyal Muslims. The fervent patriot is willing to kill and if need be die for his country. In the past, many fervent Christians have been willing to kill and die for their religion, and a few remain willing to do so today. Although the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, were carried out by Muslims who were not American citizens, the attacks of March 11, 2003, in Madrid, of July 2005 in London, and the thwarted attack on airplanes from London to the United States in August 2006 involved Muslim citizens of Spain and Great Britain. They provide vivid illustrations of how religious and democratic loyalties can conflict to the detriment of democracy.

VIII. Religion and Morality The argument is often made that religious beliefs underpin morality, and thus provide a form of public good by making people better behaved. Christian opposition to birth-control devices and abortions is based on their religious beliefs. Christian citizens who hold these beliefs are effectively saying that the United States and Africa would be better places if abortions and birth-control devices were banned. Pope Paul VI’s 1968 encyclical Humanae Vitae made it clear that any attempt to have sexual intercourse and prevent an ensuing birth was a mortal sin. Good Catholics who wish to have sexual intercourse but do not want to have a child or contact AIDS 42

Mekhennet and Smale (2006, p. 3).

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must thus choose between committing a mortal sin or risking the birth of an unwanted child or AIDS. The Catholic Church’s stance on birth-control devices has thwarted economic development in the poor, Catholic countries of the world by hampering programs to reduce population growth and has contributed to the spread of AIDS. It is difficult to see how the Church’s position on contraceptives conforms to any moral system that seeks to promote human welfare in the present life. The same can be said for the unnecessary suffering and death that the United States’ ABC model caused in Africa. Terrorist attacks in the name of Islam would also seem to run against most commonsense notions of morality. Nevertheless, the view that religion underpins morality is so widely held that it warrants a closer look.

A. Religion and War Local religions have their own myths, spirits, and gods. One tribe finds it unsurprising, therefore, if its religious practices differ from those of a neighboring tribe. Each has its own ancestors, shamans, and history, and thus there is no reason to expect them to share religious beliefs, nor does it matter that their religious beliefs differ. Each tribe is concerned with making its own members better off, and prays to and engages in trade with its own ancestors and spirits. In the past, tribes fought over cattle, women, or territory but not over religion. As urban societies replaced tribal societies and the state appeared, a single state religion replaced the many local religions. The earliest state religions shared many characteristics of local religions, however, as, for example, pantheism and animal and other food sacrifices to gods. As with local religions, sacrificed animals or humans in religious ceremonies were consumed by the population, and these ceremonies with their accompanying rewards of food and drink helped leaders of early states to maintain their subjects’ loyalty. These killing religions, as practiced by the Sumerians, Egyptians, Persians, and Greeks, were eventually replaced by the great nonkilling or universal religions, which forbade killing humans and animal and human sacrifices.43 Because they forbade killing, one might have expected the nonkilling religions to have brought an end to interstate warfare. Yet they were soon co-opted by the state. They benefited the ruling classes by substituting rewards in Heaven for comfort and sustenance on Earth and thus did away with the need for great festivals that provided food to the people. Although 43

The distinction between killing and nonkilling religions is taken from Harris (1989).

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nonkilling religions forbade killing, they allowed exceptions for just wars. Militant Buddhist kings appear as early as the second-century bce.44 Wen, founder of the first Buddhist empire in China, the Sui Dynasty (589–618 ce), remarked that “Buddhists made excellent soldiers, because of their faith that death in battle would only draw them closer to paradise.”45 Much the same can be said for Islam. Mohammed urged his followers to spread Islam, and martyrdom in pursuit of this cause was supposed to lead to Heaven.46 This belief, along with the belief that the Day of Judgment was immanent, played an important role in getting Islamic fighters to kill and die for Islam (Chapter Six). Thus, the nonkilling religions actually intensified warfare by producing better warriors because of the reduced fear of death and the promise of Heaven if one died in battle: “Indeed, were it not for their ability to sponsor and encourage militarism and harsh measures of state control, there would be no world religions in the world today.”47 Thus, instead of bringing wars to an end, nonkilling religions introduced a new kind of war – the religious war. As Hobbes noted when reflecting on the English civil war, no such war existed in the ancient world. One needed Christianity and the goading of Presbyterian preachers to produce a civil war over religion.48 However, Christianity is not alone in this respect. Islam has had its religious wars, and Hindus kill Hindus “over whether Shiva or Vishnu is the higher Lord.”49 More generally, universal religions, with their claims that only their followers can have access to Heaven, have proved to be effective means for identifying the members of one’s tribe and stirring the instinctive loyalties and hatreds that such tribal associations engender. Much of the second millennium in Europe was devoted to wars over religion. They began at the end of the eleventh century with the First Crusade. The Crusades, it should be emphasized, were an attack by practitioners of the supposedly pacific Christian faith on the supposedly more warlike Muslims. Moreover, the catalyst for the First Crusade was Pope Urban II who agitated energetically and effectively for the re-conquest of the Holy Lands.50 The Crusades were then followed by further battles between Muslims and Christians as the Ottoman Turks extended their empire into Europe. The Reformation gave European Christians an excuse to fight among themselves, 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Harris (1989, p. 449). Harris (1989, p. 450). Esposito (2002, p. 33). Harris (1989, p. 448). See Hobbes ([1682]1990, pp. 63–4), and discussion and references in Holmes (1995, pp. 88–9). Dennett (2006, p. 97). Pagden (2008, pp. 183–6).

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which they did with great zeal for a century and a half. The major fighting came to an end in 1648 with the signing of the treaty known as the Peace of Westphalia. One might have expected that the Prince of Peace’s emissary on Earth would have welcomed this end to hostilities, but no; Pope Innocent X vigorously opposed it.51 Although it is perhaps understandable that contradictory claims about the nature of God would lead to wars, one might expect that universal religions’ aversion to violence would make their practitioners avid and effective opponents of wars that were not religiously motivated. Such, however, has not generally been the case. Probably no war in history has had less justification than “the war to end all wars” precipitated by a deranged assassin in Sarajevo. National honor and a desire for more territory in the Balkans appear to have been behind Austria-Hungary’s declaration of war on Serbia. The other protagonists joined in to honor their treaty commitments. Such justifications should not have sufficed to convince clergy that killing in the name of country was morally justified. Yet this was not the case. Leading clergy in all countries became ardent supporters of the war. Just as victory in battle had convinced the followers of Mohammed that God was on their side, Prussia’s victory over France in the war of 1870–1 convinced Protestant Germans that God was on their side, and in particular, that God favored Protestantism over the Catholicism of “godless France.”52 Early victories in World War I reinforced the view in Germany that God was on its side. As the theologian Alfred Uckley put it, “God is the God of the Germans. Our battles are God’s battles. Our cause is sacred, a wholly sacred matter. We are God’s chosen among the nations. That our prayers for victory will be heard is entirely to be expected, according to the religious and moral order of the world.”53 Given the popular view in Germany that the Franco-Prussian War was a war of Protestantism against Catholicism, it is not surprising that Germany’s Catholic clergy were rather reticent about the war’s merits. They were uninhibited in praising the German cause in World War I, however: “As a Catholic field chaplain explained in April 1915, German patriotic idealism was at war with the ‘barbarism of the Russians, the atheism of the French, and the insatiable cupidity and mercantile spirit of the English.’”54 For the French, on the other hand, the war was a crusade to save Christian civilization from German barbarism. British clergy were also forthright in supporting the 51 52 53 54

Pagden (2008, pp. 250–1). Burleigh (2005, p. 415). Burleigh (2005, p. 445). Burleigh (2005, p. 446).

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war. In a sermon delivered in September 1914, Arthur Winnington-Ingram, bishop of London, urged the soldiers before him onward with the following stirring words: But when we have said all that, this is a Holy War. We are on the side of Christianity against anti-Christ. We are on the side of the New Testament which respects the weak, and honours treaties, and dies for its friends, and looks upon war as a regrettable necessity . . . It is a Holy War, and to fight in a holy war is an honour . . . Already I have seen the light in men’s eyes which I have never seen before. (Burleigh, 2005, p. 450)

Thus, it would appear that God was on the side of all of the protagonists in World War I. British clergy supported the war in both word and deed. Clergymen’s sons made up as much as 30 percent of commissioned officers, and theological seminaries were large suppliers of army recruits. Some bishops attempted to bolster the number of recruits by refusing to ordain able-bodied men of military age. In France, the clergy played an even more active role in the war, because they were not excluded from combat duties as in Britain and Germany.55 Where religion was an important signal of tribal affiliation in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, nationalism’s rise during the nineteenth century made national identity a potent signal in the twentieth century. Thus, when World War I broke out, neither belief in God nor his strictures against killing were strong enough to constrain even those who had chosen to preach God’s word. Clergy on all sides joined their fellow tribesmen in denigrating the moral worth of their enemies while proclaiming their own moral superiority and the justness of their cause. Throughout history, religion has not only failed to oppose and prevent wars, it has usually been their handmaiden.

B. Religion and Capital Punishment In a tribal society, stealing, fighting, and killing would be very costly. Immediate and severe punishment of such crimes would improve survival chances for the tribe if it effectively deterred these crimes, which presumably it did. Indeed, the intense desire of relatives of a murder victim for revenge may be genetically driven.56 Thus, the reason why all societies punish crimes, and many punish them severely, is to deter future crimes. Deterrence presumably also explains why punishment has traditionally been meted out 55 56

Burleigh (2005, pp. 447–54). Pinker (1997, pp. 413–9).

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publicly – stoning, crucifixion, hanging, being chained to a pole in the town square. Today’s treatment of criminals is much less public. Indeed, in some countries even the name of a crime suspect is not made public. Consequently, punishment’s deterrence effect has been weakened along with its justification. To see this, consider the following example. X has never drunk a drop of alcohol until today when he joins in the celebration of his best friend’s wedding. When driving home, X hits and kills an old woman who has no friends or relatives. He is filled with remorse and vows never to touch a drop of alcohol again. Only the police and X know of the event. Should X’s life be taken in exchange for the old woman’s? Should he spend ten years in prison for manslaughter? No one would gain from either punishment, and X would obviously be much worse off. A utilitarian morality would let X go free. More generally, a utilitarian morality would only sanction capital punishment if it effectively saved lives by deterring murders. Whether capital punishment effectively deters murders is an empirical question and one filled with much controversy in the United States. For our purposes, whether it does or does not is of no importance. What is important is that a citizen’s judgment about the answer to this question should be based on her reading of the empirical evidence instead of on her religious beliefs. A 2002 survey by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found, however, that only 17 percent of white evangelicals in the United States opposed the death penalty, up from 13 percent in 1996, while 32 percent of those classified as secular opposed the death penalty, up from 17 percent in 1996.57 If we assume that the seculars’ position on capital punishment is based on their judgments about its efficacy as a deterrent, then the evangelicals would appear to be using an alternative criterion – most likely some version of an eye for an eye. From the perspective of a utilitarian morality, their position is difficult to defend.

C. Religion and Slavery Non-utilitarians enjoy challenging utilitarians by constructing examples in which the utility gains to slave owners are larger than the losses of the slaves, so that the sum of utilities is larger with slavery. Slavery’s immorality is judged to be self-evident and thus this sort of demonstration is regarded as a serious blow against utilitarianism. For most of the first two millennia after Christ’s birth, however, Christianity and slavery coexisted quite happily 57

See http://pewforum.org/docs/print.php?DoelID=29.

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together. St. Augustine even believed that being a slave must be a punishment for some sin.58 Opposition to slavery was an important part of the Enlightenment programme and over the nineteenth century, slavery disappeared across the Western world. It was slower to disappear in the Muslim world, however. It was legal to own slaves in Persia and the Ottoman Empire into the early twentieth century, and in Yemen and Saudi Arabia until 1962. An important reason for slavery’s longevity in the Islamic world appears to be that it is authorized by the Koran. Thus, “from a traditional Muslim point of view, to abolish slavery would hardly have been possible. To forbid what God permits is almost as great an offense as to permit what God forbids. . . . It is thus not surprising that the strongest resistance to [eliminating slavery] came from the holy cities of Mecca and Medina. In their view they were upholding an institution sanctified by scripture and law, and one moreover necessary for the maintenance of the traditional structure of family life.”59 Slavery’s example illustrates plainly the inherent conservatism of strong religious beliefs. If the Bible or Koran articulates God’s will, and the good Christian or Muslim must follow his will to the letter, then all definitions of right and wrong or moral and immoral remain reflections of the moral beliefs of two thousand or fourteen hundred years ago, including the morality of slavery.

D. Religion and Feminism Women and men are equal under Christianity in that members of each sex are responsible for their own salvation. Christianity regards procreation as the sole purpose of marriage, however, and thus historically it has effectively relegated women to the role of bearers and rearers of children. Feminism is yet another manifestation of the modernism that the Catholic Church has opposed. For example, in part because of opposition from the Catholic Church, women did not obtain legal equality with men in Germany until 1956.60 Various means of contraception date back to before the time of Christ, but these have generally been either cumbersome to use, unreliable, or both. Thus, until the development of convenient and effective means of birth control, the good Christian wife was destined to give birth to large numbers of 58 59 60

Pagden (2008, p. 113). Lewis (2002, p. 95). By the nineteenth century, most slaves in Islamic country were employed within the household, hence the link between slavery and family life. Klausen (2005, p. 187).

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offspring. The birth-control pill’s invention was perhaps the most important historical development in the liberation of women. It allowed couples to choose both the number and timing of their children, and thus gave women the opportunity to plan their educations and careers with almost the same freedom as men. The Catholic Church was quick to recognize the challenge posed by the pill to its teachings with respect to the purpose of marriage and woman’s role in the family. Shortly after the pill appeared, therefore, Pope Paul VI issued his famous encyclical Humanae Vitae, condemning all forms of birth control other than abstention from sexual intercourse. Many Protestant sects join the Church in this condemnation and, of course, it was the ideological foundation for the U.S.’s ineffective ABC Strategy for HIV/AIDS. Christian dogma and the moral principles underlying women’s liberation are in direct contradiction with one another. Justification for forbidding contraceptives rests on several biblical passages referring to children as “gifts of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3) and commissioning man “to be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). Great emphasis is also placed on the story of Onan who married Tamar, the deceased wife of his brother. The book of Genesis claims that Judah instructed Onan to “go in to your brother’s wife, and perform the duty of a brother-in-law to her, and raise up offspring for your brother.” Jewish custom at that time prescribed that a man should marry a brother’s widow and give her children. Failure to do so led to social approbation. (This custom survives today among the Pushtan in Afghanistan who incidentally some say are descendants of one of the lost tribes of Israel.)61 Onan is reputed to have “spilled his semen on the ground” to avoid having a child by Tamar and thus to have to share his inheritance with the child. God reputedly punished him for this act of selfishness with death. There is safety in numbers and a maxim urging tribe members “to be fruitful and multiply” might increase survival chances for a tribe living in a harsh environment. Widows generally have more difficulty finding husbands than women who have never been married, thus encouraging men to marry the wife of a deceased brother and father children would also keep a tribe’s population up. More people probably live in Sweden today than lived on the Earth when Onan is supposed to have lived. In a world of nearly seven billion people, mankind does not need to be still more fruitful. Many of the customs and mores that were appropriate for Jewish tribes thousands of years ago are inappropriate today. Those who judge the morality of contraception on the basis of biblical text refuse to recognize 61

Economist, December 19, 2006.

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that today’s world is different from that of the Old Testament, and that behaviour that promoted community welfare thousands of years ago may not promote it today. Women’s subjugation under Islam, like slavery, obtained its moral justification from the Koran. In both cases, “the rules regulating their [slaves and women] status were seen as part of the law of personal status, the inner citadel of the Holy Law.”62 As with slavery and religious tolerance, Enlightenment ideas regarding women’s rights made their way to the Middle East. In the middle of the nineteenth century, the Ottoman Empire initiated reforms that improved the status of both slaves and non-Muslims. Fear of still additional reforms led Sheikh Jam¯al, chief of the Ulema of Mecca, to issue a fatw¯a against the Turks: The ban on slaves is contrary to the Holy shari’a. Furthermore the abandonment of the noble call to prayer in favor of firing a gun, permitting women to walk unveiled, placing divorce in the hands of women, and such like are contrary to the pure Holy Law . . . With such proposals the Turks have become infidels. Their blood is forfeit and it is lawful to make their children slaves. (Lewis, 2002, p. 103)

The Turks put down the rebellion caused by the fatw¯a, but also recognized that many of their subjects were not yet ready for all aspects of the Enlightenment programme, and thus issued a proclamation dispelling “slanderous rumors” about women obtaining the previously mentioned rights. Advocates of women’s rights during the Enlightenment were women. The French Revolution inspired reformist thinking in the Middle East during the nineteenth century, and here too women took the lead in pressing for women’s rights. The Persian Qurrat al-‘Ayn’, the eldest daughter of an eminent Shiite Muslim, was courageous enough to preach without a veil. She spoke out against polygamy and was tortured to death for her efforts in 1852. The spread of Enlightenment ideas in the West has resulted in women having achieved nearly full equality with men in all aspects of economic and social life. Universal education applies to both boys and girls in Western countries and in many places women outnumber men at universities. Nevertheless, even in modern countries pockets of religious traditionalism succeed in confining women’s choices. In the United States, evangelical Christians, like other extremist religious groups, have much larger families than other Americans. Women in the ultra-orthodox Haredim sect, which makes up 10 percent of Israel’s population, are supposed to not only have large numbers of children, but to work full-time outside of the home because 62

Lewis (2002, p. 93).

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Table 13.3. Fertility and literacy rates in Muslim countries

Country Algeria Egypt Iran Jordan Kuwait Libya Morocco Oman Pakistan Qatar Saudi Arabia Tunisia Turkey United Arab Emirates Yemen a b

Fertility ratea Adult maleb Adult femaleb (births per woman) literacy (%) literacy (%) 2.5 3.2 2.1 3.4 2.5 2.9 2.5 3.6 4.3 2.9 4.0 2.0 2.2 2.2 5.9

Female/Maleb literacy

79.6 83.0 88.0 95.2 94.4

60.1 59.4 76.8 87.0 91.0

0.76 0.71 0.87 0.91 0.96

65.7 86.9 64.1 89.1 87.5 83.4 95.3

39.6 73.5 35.4 88.6 76.3 65.3 79.6

0.60 0.85 0.55 0.99 0.87 0.78 0.84

Fertility rate data are for 2004 as reported by the World Bank at http://www.worldbank.org. Literacy data are as reported by UNESCO Institute for Statistics (UIC), September 2006. Years vary between 2000 and 2005.

they are the sole source of support for their families. Tradition dictates that Haredim men devote all of their time to studying the Torah.63 In more traditional Muslim societies, large fractions of the female population are forced to stay home and raise children. With a female fertility rate of around 2.1, a country’s population should remain stable. Nearly all female fertility rates in Muslim countries exceed this figure (see Table 13.3). High female fertility forces large fractions of the female population to stay home to take care of young children for long stretches of their lives. For them, there is no choice between family and career; the better part of their adult life must be devoted to family. Many Muslim women could not have careers of any consequence even if they did not have children, because they do not have the required education. Only Kuwait has a female literacy rate of more than 90 percent of the population; only in Kuwait and Qatar is a woman about as likely to be literate as a man (see again Table 13.3). In most Muslim countries, the sanctity of the family is preserved in part by denying women an education, 63

McGirk (2008).

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which might allow them to break out of the roles of wife and mother prescribed for them by tradition. In this section, I offered examples of religious beliefs and practices that lead to immoral behavior in contradiction to what many people believe. Some will claim, however, that the women’s rights movement is a bad example. Birth-control devices are immoral; the proper place for women is at home taking care of children. Such claims reject the thinking and moral values of the Enlightenment – a majority religion cannot persecute members of a minority religion; one man cannot own another; a husband is not a wife’s master dictating what she wears, where she goes, and with whom she speaks. These Enlightenment ideas clashed with centuries of tradition when first promulgated in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. They continue to clash with the moral beliefs of Christians and Muslims who define their morality by writings from centuries ago.

E. Moral Behavior at the Micro Level Just as tribes engage in exchange with their ancestors to obtain a better life on Earth, members of universal religions engage in exchange with their gods to obtain a better afterlife. They give money to their church, attend religious ceremonies, and pray regularly in exchange for the promise of entering nirvana or Heaven. Each universal religion has its own recipe for obtaining a happy afterlife, and devout believers follow these recipes to the tee. As Dennett (2006, pp. 305–6) points out, little is laudatory in the devout believer who devotes his life to getting into Heaven or reaching nirvana. The Buddhist monk whiling away the day meditating and praying is just as selfish as the lout who spends his time watching football matches and drinking beer. Each is the sole beneficiary of his actions. Each universal religion proscribes certain actions and prescribes others, and thereby influences how people behave. Recent research shows that cultural differences related to religion and ethnicity are important determinants of individual behavior even in areas where economic considerations might be expected to dominate.64 Guiso, Sapienza, and Zingales (2006), for example, link religion and trust, thrift and attitudes toward redistribution. Religious people in general were significantly more likely to trust others than people with “no religious affiliation.” On the other hand, Hindus were significantly less likely to trust others. 64

Guiso, Sapienza, and Zingales (2006) review both their own previous research and that of others.

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Guiso, Sapienza, and Zingales (2006) also found a relationship between religion and thriftiness. “Catholics are 3.8 percent more likely and Protestants 2.7 percent more likely than nonreligious people to view teaching thrift to their children as an important value.”65 Attitudes toward thrift are positively correlated with national savings rates, which in turn are positively correlated with national growth rates.66 Levels of community trust have also been found to be positively correlated with growth rates.67 These findings establish that culture, and in particular religion, can influence individuals’ behavior in ways that have important economic consequences. A professor I had in college told my class that when his children were quite young he stood them on a chair, held out his hands, and told them to jump to daddy. When they did, he pulled away his hands and they fell flat on the floor. This was his technique for teaching his children not to trust anyone, even daddy. If his teaching technique was effective, his children probably grew up being less trusting than others – even if they lived in a community with a high average trust. Whether an individual trusts another in a given situation is likely to depend on many factors – her own experience dealing with other persons, whether this particular person looks trustworthy, the potential loss if the person is not trustworthy. If upon weighing all factors, she decides not to trust the other person one cannot call her immoral, although she may have made the wrong decision if the other person was in fact trustworthy. Making a mistake judging another person’s character is not behaving immorally. If it was, then trusting someone who is untrustworthy would also be immoral. Indeed, all honest mistakes would become immoral. Similar arguments apply to thrift. How much one saves depends on many factors including what one was taught as a child by parents, teachers, and perhaps preachers. It will also depend on expected future income and expenditure flows. Someone who learns that he has one year to live is not behaving immorally if he stops saving and spends his accumulated savings, even if his parents and minister told him that a good person ought to save a lot and even if by lowering the national saving rate he has a (slight) negative effect on national growth. The positive association between Protestantism and Catholicism and feelings of trust and willingness to save implies that these religions may lead to greater economic efficiency by reducing the undersupply of trust and saving in a community. To conclude from this that these religions promote moral behavior, however, would be to imply that 65 66 67

The differences are significant at the 1 and 5 percent levels, respectively (Guiso, Sapienza, and Zingales, 2006, p. 38). Guiso, Sapienza, and Zingales (2006, pp. 38–40). Knack and Keefer (1997) and Zak and Knack (2001).

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Hinduism promotes immoral behavior, because it is negatively related to trust. One is, of course, free to assign whatever labels one chooses to actions, but such a broad definition of morality does not seem very instructive. One set of findings comes much closer to everyday notions of morality, however. Some survey questions ask whether individuals think government should reduce income differences by taxing the rich (subsidizing the poor) or whether government should not concern itself with these differences. Because all universal religions advocate compassion for the poor, one expects religious people to be more compassionate than the nonreligious. Such was not the case, however. Relative to those professing no religion, Catholics (−4.7%), Jews (−5.6%), and Protestants (−6.0%) all expressed a more negative attitude toward redistribution, although only the differences for Catholics and Protestants were statistically significant.68 Indeed, the welfare states of Scandinavia are renowned for their generosity to disadvantaged groups and yet less than 5 percent of Scandinavians attend church and only 36 percent of all Swedes believe in God – the smallest percentage in the European Union.69 Thus, religious beliefs do not make one inherently more compassionate toward the poor than nonbelievers, despite the rhetoric contained in the Bible, Koran, and other holy writings. Of course, some devout believers of all religions have devoted their lives to helping others, and they can be said to lead ethically exemplary lives. However, against the Albert Schweitzers of the world who sacrifice their lives to serve others, one must weigh the suicide bombers who sacrifice their lives to serve God, and those whose Puritanical religious beliefs cause hardship, suffering, and often death by denying others the possibility of having cheap and safe abortions, and cheap and safe means of birth control.

F. Moral Behavior: Cross-National Evidence If religion strengthens moral convictions, it should produce morally superior behavior – a lower proclivity to commit crimes, for example. In the United States, state-level evidence exists of a negative association between church attendance and various crime statistics, but religion seems able to explain only a small portion of the total variance in crime.70 Dennett (2006, 68

69 70

Other denominations were slightly more favorable to redistribution, but the difference with nonreligious people was statistically insignificant. See again, Guiso, Sapienza, and Zingales (2006). Klausen (2005, pp. 138–9). See Lipford, McCormick, and Tollison (1993) for evidence of a negative effect of church attendance on crime, and Iannacone (2000) for an overview of the literature.

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Table 13.4. Church attendance and crime statistics for developed countries

Country Ireland Northern Ireland Portugal Italy Belgium United States Canada Netherlands Austria Great Britain Spain France Switzerland Australia West Germany Denmark Norway East Germany Sweden Finland Japan

Weekly church attendance (% of population) 84 58 47 45 44 44 38 35 30 27 25 21 16 16 14 5 5 5 4 4 3

Homicides per 100,000 population 0.91 1.79 1.23

1.95

1.75a 1.64 2.94 1.28 0.98b 0.79 0.78 0.98b 2.39 2.75

1.42 1.61 1.17 1.50 1.23 5.56 1.77 1.51 1.23 1.66a 1.12 1.73 1.12 1.87 1.15b 1.02 0.95 1.15b 1.11 2.86 1.05

Prison population per 100,000 population

0.95

78

2.34 1.28

126 98

4.28 1.49 1.49 1.12 1.41a 1.22 1.73 0.92 1.50 1.16b 1.07 1.07 1.16b 2.83 0.50

107

140a 139 83 121 98b 70 62c 98b 81 71

79 52 128 96 83 689 116 94 87 128a 116 77 71 84 85b 58 58 85b 69 60 50

130 100 88 715 116 112 100 144 95 72 116 96b 72 64 96b 75 71 54

Notes: a Weighted averages of figures for England, Wales, and Scotland with populations as weights. b Homicide and prison population figures are for all of Germany. c Figure for 2003. Source: First crime statistic, The Ninth United Nations Survey on Crime Trends, 2004; http:// www.unodc.org/unodc; second crime statistic: Institute for Social Research; third crime statistic: Nation Master Statistics, http://www.nationmaster.com/. Church attendance data from Barclay and Tavares (2003).

ch. 10) claims that the distribution of evangelicals, moderate believers, and atheists occupying prison cells in America is about the same as it is outside of prisons. A negative relationship between church attendance and crime is also not apparent when one looks cross-nationally. Table 13.4 presents figures on church attendance from the World Values Survey. Only data on rich, developed countries are included to control for differences in income and education levels. Forty-four percent of Americans claimed to attend church services at least once a week in the 1995–7 survey. This figure seems on the low side, because 53 percent of Americans said that religion was very important in their lives, while in European countries these figures tended

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to be equal to or lower than the church attendance figures. In any event, the United States ranks relatively high on church attendance. Crime statistics are notoriously difficult to compare across countries. Definitions of murder are less likely to differ, however. The middle columns in Table 13.4 present numbers from three different sources for homicides per 100,000 of population. I focus on the middle set of numbers because it is most complete, but with a few exceptions all three sets paint a similar picture. The United States stands out as a dramatic outlier with roughly double the homicide rate of the next highest country (Finland) and five times the rates for countries like Denmark, Japan, Norway, and Sweden. Attending church regularly and believing that God is very important to their lives does not appear to make Americans less likely to murder one another than people in other rich countries, but quite the reverse. One reason for high homicide rates in the United States is, of course, the Constitution’s Second Amendment, which makes it easier for Americans to acquire guns than in most other developed countries. This difference does not save the hypothesis that religion makes people behave morally, however, because a religious person who believes that God forbids killing should, presumably, not use a gun to kill his neighbor just because he owns one. If one ignores the United States, no clear pattern emerges. Finland has very low church attendance and the second highest homicide rate, but Japan, Norway, and Denmark also have low church attendance and very low homicide rates. A proper test of the hypothesis that attending church reduces homicides would need to control for variables like income and education, but it is difficult to believe looking at Table 13.4 that such controls would salvage the hypothesis. Indeed, because the United States has the highest per capita income of all countries and relatively high education levels, controlling for these would undoubtedly work against the hypothesis. The last numbers in Table 13.4 are for people behind bars. This is again a fairly reliable number in a cross-national comparison, and again the United States stands out with six to seven times as many people in jail than in other countries. A ready explanation for this difference exists – the harsh treatment of drug users and sellers in the United States compared to other countries. Yet this does not seem to alter the fact that going to church and trusting in God does not keep Americans out of jail. Rodney Stark (2004, ch. 7) presents evidence that some religions reinforce moral behavior. He hypothesizes that only religions with a supreme being who rewards moral and punishes immoral behavior strengthen a community’s moral order. Several pieces of evidence support this hypothesis: (1)

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The closer Americans feel to God, the less likely they are to have been picked up by police. Being picked up by police is assumed to correlate positively with having committed a crime. (2) Within countries like the United States, Western Europe, and Turkey where the prevailing religion posits the existence of an all-knowing, punishing, and rewarding God, how important persons say God is in their life correlates negatively with their willingness to tolerate immoral behavior – defined as a) buying something known to be stolen, b) failing to report having damaged a parked car, and c) smoking dope. These correlations disappear in Orthodox Christian countries where “God seems remote and inactive” and salvation is perceived to be only weakly linked to one’s behavior on Earth.71 No correlation between the importance of God and attitudes toward stolen goods, hit-and-run behaviour, and smoking pot was found for Japan. Although this finding supports Stark’s thesis as far as within-country correlations are concerned, it contradicts it when one looks at the cross-national data. Most Japanese espouse some combination of Shintoism and Buddhism. Shinto has many characteristics of a local religion. It is polytheistic and has no canon of sacred scriptures. Most Japanese have altars in their homes and offer sacrifices to spirits to bring them good luck. They approach priests for blessings to ward off evil spirits when they buy a new car or build a house. Thus, as in a local religion, the exchange relationships between Japanese and the gods/spirits are for favors in the present life, not for rewards in an afterlife. Japan is the only country in Table 13.4 in which Christianity is not the dominant religion. Yet, the Japanese stay out of jail and refrain from killing one another to a greater extent than people in Christian countries. The figures in Table 13.4 indicate that belief in an almighty god who punishes sin and rewards virtue is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for low crime rates. Table 13.5 presents comparable figures for a handful of Latin American countries. Church attendance tends to be higher than in the rich, developed countries as are homicides. The only country with a homicide rate similar to that of the European countries is Chile, which has the lowest church attendance along with Argentina of the Latin American countries. My data source did not supply figures for church attendance in Columbia, but I assume that it is comparable to other Latin American countries, that is, higher than in most EU-European countries. Columbia is included in Table 13.5 because it has the highest homicide rate in the world according to Barclay and Tavares (2003). 71

Stark (2004, pp. 148–54).

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Country Mexico Dominican Republic Peru Brazil Venezuela Uruguay Chile Argentina Columbia

Weekly church attendance (% of population) 46 44 43 36 31 31 25 25

Homicides per 100,000 population

Prison population per 100,000 population

13.0 5.5

5.6 1.7

114 31.6 4.5 1.5

186 236

61.8

151

169 157 104 169 76 209 204 107 126

Sources: Barclay and Tavares (2003); Institute for Social Research; crime statistics: http://www. nationmaster.com/graph/cri gun vio hom ove hom rat per 100 pop-rate-per-100–000-pop.

Tables 13.4 and 13.5 do not prove that church attendance fosters crime, and no claim is made that it does. They do seem to disprove the claim, however, that religiosity reduces crime by increasing morality.

IX. Conclusions Greta practices yoga and meditates thirty minutes everyday. She does not go to church or pray to any god, but thinks of herself as a spiritual person. Johan is a Deist. He believes that a supreme being created the substance out of which the universe is made eons ago, and that this supreme being then retired from the scene and allowed the universe to evolve following the laws of physics and biology. Johan believes in the Big Bang hypothesis about the universe, and in Darwinian evolution theory. Maria is a Spanish Catholic. She attends church on Easter and Christmas, and has had her two children baptized. She takes the pill, because she does not want to have more children. She too accepts the Big Bang hypothesis and Darwinian theory. Greta, Johan, and Maria can all be regarded as spiritual or religious to some degree. Yet each believes that their well-being depends on their actions, and that the well-being of their community depends on the community’s collective actions. Each as spouse, consumer, worker, and citizen attempts to make as rational a choice as possible, relying on knowledge acquired through formal education, reading books, magazines, and newspapers, and through

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television and conversations with friends. A democracy filled with Gretas, Johans, and Marias should be able to produce good political outcomes. Democracy and religion are not incompatible when religious beliefs do not prevent people from making intelligent use of knowledge. Democracy and religion are also compatible when an entire community shares a set of religious beliefs, however strong and implausible they may be. Building temples can enhance a religious community’s welfare, just as building schools and libraries does for a secular community. Wars conducted to convert another society to one’s religion will be defined as just wars by a religious country, whereas wars to defend freedom and democracy are regarded as just by secular communities. A community that believes that the Judgment Day is near might vote to commit mass suicide. Because the decision has been reached democratically, one might say that this too is an example of the compatibility of religion and democracy. An outside observer might question, however, whether this decision advanced the welfare of the community. All religions contain dogmas and beliefs, which either directly contradict scientific knowledge or rest on questionable evidence. The moral strictures laid down by universal religions were propagated by prophets and priests centuries ago to induce behavior beneficial to the community at that time; they do not always advance community welfare today. By circumscribing the domains in which individuals can use their powers of reasoning, religions reduce the potential for people to make individual and collective decisions that advance their welfare on this earth. In this respect, religion and democracy are incompatible. A well-functioning, liberal democracy requires a great deal of tolerance from its citizens. The liberal democrat must tolerate different modes of dress, different ideas, lifestyles, and, in a highly heterogeneous community, many other differences. In particular, the liberal democrat must tolerate religious beliefs and practices other than her own. Here we have another important potential tension between religion and liberal democracy. Religions are inherently intolerant of one another and of secularism. Christianity’s First Commandment reads, “I am the Lord your God . . . you shall have no other gods before me.” Anyone wishing to become a Muslim must profess that, “There is no God but Allah and I bear witness that Mohammed is His Messenger.” Throughout history, minority religious sects have demanded the right to practice their religions while majority religions have more often demanded that everyone else practice their religion. Religious tolerance requires that a person say to himself that it is not really important whether my neighbor prays to the same god as I do, or

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even whether she prays at all. If protesters in a Muslim country burn images of the pope, the tolerant Catholic must be able to shrug it off and not kill the first woman he sees wearing a head scarf. The tolerant Muslim must endure the pope’s quoting a critic of Islam without starting a riot or killing the first Catholic nun or priest he sees.72 Since the advent of the universal religions, such tolerance has been rare – and logically so. If it is unimportant what my neighbor believes or that she cracks a joke about my god, then the next logical inference is to say that what I believe is not that important. A religious person recognizes that tolerance of other religions suggests doubt about one’s own, and perhaps of religion’s importance in general. Religious tolerance has and probably can only exist in societies in which, to use Mill’s term, “religious indifference” has taken root. The stronger the religious indifference is, the greater the chance of establishing and maintaining liberal values. All twenty-eight Western European and developed Anglophone countries like Australia and the United States were judged to be liberal democracies in 2002 by Freedom House, a think tank that gathers statistics on and promotes freedom and democracy. Their mean score was 1.04, where 1.0 implies the strongest democratic institutions and 7.0 the weakest. Only seven of the forty-three predominantly Muslim countries (Albania, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Mali, Niger, Senegal, and Turkey) were characterized as liberal democracies. The mean score for the forty-three Muslim countries was 5.33. None of the sixteen Arab countries were judged to be liberal democracies, and their mean score was 5.81. Moreover, the democratic gap between Muslim and non-Muslim countries has been growing. In 1972, “the chance of a Muslim country being undemocratic was 50 percent higher than the chance of a non-Muslim country.” In 2004 it was three times higher.73 Strong traditions of separation of church and state exist in all twenty-eight Western democracies, with religion a spent force in most of them with the important exception of the United States. Other factors like economic development play a role in explaining these differences, but many of these factors are also related to religion. If religion is as important a part of their life as Muslims say it is, then it seems reasonable to assume that it has an important effect 72

73

In September 2006, an Italian nun was apparently murdered in Somalia by Muslims distraught by something that the pope had said; “Ermordete Geistliche,” Die Presse, September 19, 2006, p. 1. In northern Iraq, a Syrian-orthodox priest was kidnapped and beheaded. Dozens of Christians have been murdered in Nigeria in protest to the pope’s remarks (Schneider, 2006). Borooah and Paldam (2007, p. 598).

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on the economic and political institutions in Muslim countries.74 Islam and liberal democracy do not make good bedfellows. 74

Figures are taken from Minkenberg (2007), who also discusses other causes for these differences as, for example, the fact that Arab countries are strongly patriarchic. Patriarchy in the Arab world is, however, not unrelated to the Muslim religion. The fact that Mohammed had several wives is often used as a justification for polygamy in Muslim countries. Barro (1991) has found a significant negative relationship between a country’s being Muslim and its economic growth rate.

FOURTEEN

Building and Protecting Liberal Democracy

In the principle of equality I very clearly discern two tendencies; one leading the mind of every man to untried thoughts, the other prohibiting him from thinking at all. And I perceive how, under the domination of certain laws, democracy would extinguish that liberty of the mind to which a democratic social condition is favorable; so that, having broken all the bondage once imposed upon it by ranks or by men, the human mind would be closely fettered to the general will of the greatest number. (Alexis de Tocqueville)1

In 1793, Condorcet drafted a brief history of The Progress of the Human Mind. He traced its development over ten stages from tribal societies up through the Enlightenment. The tenth stage was a prognosis for the future. It was most optimistic. Scientific progress would continue to bring rising living standards and life expectancies; as a result, states would introduce retirement insurance; income equality would increase both across and within countries; universal education would be introduced; free trade, democracy, and human rights would all triumph. Condorcet went so far as to advocate the development of a universal language to facilitate communication across the globe and, of course, to speed up the advance of science. The closing chapter was part prognosis, part hope as its closing lines dramatically reveal: How consoling for the philosopher who laments the errors, the crimes, the injustices which still pollute the earth and of which he is often the victim is this view of the human race, emancipated from its shackles, released from the empire of fate and from that of the enemies of its progress, advancing with a firm and sure step along the path of truth, virtue, and happiness! It is the contemplation of this prospect that rewards him for all his efforts to assist the progress of reason and the defence of liberty. He dares to regard these strivings as part of the eternal chain of human destiny; and in this persuasion he is filled with the true delight of virtue and the pleasure of having done some lasting good which fate can never destroy by a 1

Tocqueville (1840, pp. 12–13).

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401

sinister stroke of revenge, by calling back the reign of slavery and prejudice. Such contemplation is for him an asylum, in which the memory of his persecutors cannot pursue him; there he lives in thought with man restored to his natural rights and dignity, forgets man tormented and corrupted by greed, fear or envy; there he lives with his peers in an Elysium created by reason and graced by the purest pleasures known to the love of mankind.2

Here we see both Condorcet’s optimism about the progress of the human mind and a bit of self-justification for a lifetime committed to its use. It is sobering to consider that he wrote these lines while in hiding under the threat of death from the French Revolution. Whether Condorcet would have retained his optimism if he had lived another ten years and witnessed the Revolution’s later excesses and the rise of Napoleon is difficult to guess. Were he alive today, however, he would see that much of what he predicted has indeed come to pass in the developed parts of the world. Scientific progress has accelerated; living standards and life expectancies have risen; social insurance and universal education are commonplace; and in many countries women have achieved – more or less – equality with men. Even Condorcet’s dream of a universal language is close to a reality among the educated parts of the world. Other predictions of Condorcet have yet to be realized, however. Differences in income between rich and poor countries remain large, as are income disparities within many countries. More countries are democratic today than at any other time in history, but a majority of the world’s population is still ruled by dictators. The enemies of progress have proved to be stronger than Condorcet might ever have imagined; the triumph of reason and democracy is still incomplete. In this closing chapter, we discuss why this is so and what can be done about it. We begin by reviewing the conditions necessary for democracy to succeed and why it sometimes fails.

I. Why Does Democracy Sometimes Fail? In Chapter Ten, we discussed how the Condorcet Jury Theorem can provide a rationale for majoritarian democracy. The key assumptions needed to provide this rationale are that citizens share a common set of goals for the state, and that they are sufficiently intelligent and motivated to gather information so that they improve the chances of making correct choices. We also discussed how certain biases in citizens’ preferences can undermine democracy by leading to bad political outcomes. 2

Condorcet ([1795]1955, pp. 201–2).

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A. The Costs of Heterogeneity One explanation for the widespread dissatisfaction with democratic outcomes in developed countries is that their populations place diverse and often conflicting demands on the state. Animal rights activists demand bans on slaughtering animals; antiabortion activists demand bans on abortions; religious activists demand bans of same-sex marriages. The list of activist groups claiming certain rights is almost endless. Each activist group is opposed by other activists making counterclaims. The state cannot possibly satisfy all activists. The activists perceive that their representatives are not listening to them, and dissatisfaction with government grows.

B. The Costs of Citizen Ignorance and Bias In a democratic state, the quality of political outcomes depends on how good the citizens are at deciding policies and choosing candidates. For democracy to be successful, citizens must recognize corruption and incompetence in government and punish those responsible for it with electoral defeat at the first opportunity. The Iraq War arguably represents the worst set of decisions and mismanagement by a U.S. government in the last sixty years. At the time of the 2004 presidential election, it was patently obvious that (1) either the Bush administration had been totally incompetent in gathering and evaluating intelligence information about whether Iraq had weapons of mass destruction or it had lied to the American people about them; (2) it had made a bad mistake in disbanding the Iraqi army because without it there was no agency to maintain law and order, and the door was left open for the insurgents to go to work, and this mistake was compounded by (3) Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s decision not to replace the Iraqi army with a massive American buildup, even though his generals in the field strongly recommended it. Thus, in November 2004, the American electorate had ample evidence that the Bush administration had made a series of major mistakes in Iraq and, one expected, it would punish Bush for them. It failed to do so. An important explanation for this failure is that a decisive number of voters thought religion and moral issues to be more important than the exercise of intelligence in deciding to go to war or competence in managing the postwar occupation. Remarkably, only 15 percent of American voters polled thought that Iraq was the most important issue in the election; 22 percent thought that “moral values” were more important. Of those who thought that Iraq was

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most important, 73 percent voted for Kerry; of those who thought that moral values were most important, 80 percent voted for Bush. Eight percent of the voters thought that religious faith was the most important quality of a candidate, and of these, 91 percent voted for Bush; 7 percent thought that intelligence was the most important quality, and of these, 91 percent voted for Kerry; 73 percent of those who believed that abortion should be legal in all cases voted for Kerry; 77 percent of those who believed that abortion should be illegal in all cases voted for Bush. Twenty-three percent of all voters described themselves as white evangelists or, like Bush, as born-again Christians; 78 percent of them voted for Bush. These religious extremists gave Bush more than sixteen million more votes than they gave Kerry, more than five times the difference separating the two candidates.3 On April 28, 2004, the popular television show 60 Minutes exposed the mistreatment of Iraqi prisoners by American soldiers at Abu Ghraib, and Seymour Hersh’s first article on Abu Ghraib appeared in the New Yorker on May 10.4 By the November election, every voter should have known about what went on at Abu Ghraib. If these incidents of abuse and torture did not represent a breach of moral values or gross mismanagement, one is hard pressed to think what would. Moreover, it was obvious that the abominable acts at Abu Ghraib were not simply isolated breaches of orders by a few deviant soldiers, but were both sanctioned by officers higher up in the chain of command and implicitly condoned by the aura of arrogance that prevailed in the Bush administration. Someone high up in the administration should have been held accountable for these atrocities with the obvious person being Donald Rumsfeld. The fact that Bush did not hold Rumsfeld accountable made Bush himself culpable, and the voters should have punished him for this failure. Yet they chose not to do so. If voters do not value intelligence and competence in a president, they will not get it. Iraq, the mismanagement following Hurricane Katrina, and the other failures of George W. Bush’s presidency reveal the potential costs to a democracy from the bias that religion can introduce in citizen choices. Religion is much less of a factor in how people vote in Europe than in the United States. Biases against free markets and capitalism are, however, if anything more pronounced in Europe than in the United States. Democracy in Europe, as in the United States, also faces the problem that some voters do not possess the intelligence to make good choices, and many do not bother 3 4

See http://www.cnn.com/ELECTION/2004/pages/results/states/US/P/00/epolls.0.html, and http://www.beliefnet.com/story/155/story 15546 1.html. Hersh (2004); http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2004/05/10/040510fa fact.

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to become well informed. The European Union has, however, discovered a way to avoid the costs of citizen ignorance – do not consult them about what should be done. An increasing number of governmental decisions that affect Europeans are made at the EU level. Policies are initiated by the Commission, which is composed of unelected commissioners heading governmental bureaucracies. Commission-proposed policies are voted on by the Council and the Parliament, which do contain elected representatives. However, in neither case are they elected on the basis of what they promise to do at the EU level in the future or as rewards for what they did at the EU level in the past. The Council contains representatives of memberstates’ governments, who are elected on the basis of their performance at the national level. Elections to the Parliament reflect voter happiness or dissatisfaction with parties at the national level. This democratic deficit explains why Europeans express such little support for the European Union. EU politicians’ disdain for citizen opinion was most vividly revealed by the heavy-handed way they tried to circumvent the rejection of the draft constitution by citizens in France and the Netherlands. If citizen ignorance and biases sometimes produce bad political outcomes in the United States and Europe where education levels are high, what are they likely to produce in developing countries where education and even literacy is often low? Nigeria has had reasonably fair elections from time to time. None of them has yet to produce an honest and competent government. Much the same can be said about the rest of Africa. Ecuador’s elections are generally rather fair; its governments rather poor. Other examples from Latin America can easily be found. The same can be said for many developing countries in Asia, like Thailand. In the next three sections, we offer some suggestions for how these failings of democracy can be addressed. We begin with the toughest case, the developing countries.

II. Making Democracy Succeed in Third-World Countries A. Heterogeneity Democracy may not even be viable when heterogeneity is too great. Nigeria with its 250 some ethnic groups, more than 200 languages, and a ChristianMuslim division may simply be too heterogeneous to ever be able to function as a democracy in which the government strives to advance the welfare of all citizens rather than exploit some for the benefit of the others. Indeed, in 1967, heterogeneity led to a civil war in which the Igbo tribe attempted

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to separate from Nigeria to create a new country Biafra. Heterogeneity is also an obstacle to democracy in Iraq. Having been ruled and abused by a tyrannical dictator from the minority Sunni sector of the population, Iraqi Shiites are understandably inclined to take advantage of their numerical superiority under democratic rules. The Kurds would be happy to take the oil under parts of their lands and ignore the other two groups. Effective democracy may only be possible in Iraq if the country is divided into three separate states. One cannot arbitrarily draw boundaries creating a state, as essentially was the case in Nigeria and Iraq, and assume that a stable, effective democracy will arise regardless of how diverse the people enclosed by the boundaries are. The alternative to totally dismantling a country to produce more homogeneous populations is federalism. Switzerland has dealt with its linguistic and religious heterogeneity by creating perhaps the strongest set of federalist institutions in the world. Canada has done the same as a way to deal with its large French-speaking minority. Federalism is essentially the only way to deal with significant heterogeneity that poses a threat to democracy in a country other than by dismantling it. Nigeria is organized as a federalist country, but so far this has not produced as good results as in Switzerland. This may be because the degree of heterogeneity in Nigeria is so great, that even a strong federalist structure is not enough or because of the second obstacle to democracy in Nigeria – voter ignorance.

B. Citizen Ignorance There are two ways to mitigate the effects of voter ignorance on political outcomes in a democracy – educate the citizens or restrict the voting franchise. Increasing education levels is part of every development agency’s set of proposals, and yet after trillions of dollars of Western aid, education levels remain low in many developing countries like Nigeria. The reason for this is simple: Population is growing so fast in many developing countries that expanding education budgets cannot keep up with it. Any attempt to spur development by increasing education should be coupled with an effective policy for controlling population. Here again, religion is often part of the problem rather than the solution in many developing countries. The Catholic Church, many Protestant sects, and Islamic leaders oppose the use of birth-control measures. Nigeria is 50 percent Muslim, 40 percent Christian, and has a birthrate of 2.4 percent. It remains mired in a Malthusian trap of rising national income, rising population, and stagnating growth

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in income per capita, in part because it has failed to implement effective policies of population control. The second way to improve the quality of the inputs into the democratic process is to restrict the voting franchise. Literacy tests are the traditional way to make sure that citizens can become informed about the issues, but one might alternatively limit the voting franchise to those who can pass a test concerning the country’s history and political institutions. Such tests might be given in secondary schools so that all citizens who completed secondary school would be eligible to vote, but people who did not complete secondary school might also be allowed to take the test and vote if they passed it. Literacy tests were common in developing countries at the start of the twentieth century, but have become fairly rare in the last fifty years. It is not obvious that the quality of the outcomes of the political process in developing countries has been improved by this expansion of the franchise. Limiting the privilege of voting to those with some minimal level of education and gradually expanding it as the education level in a country grows would resemble the path to universal suffrage that Europe and the United States followed over the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. If democracy in these rich countries is thought to work reasonably well today, why should the path that they took to universal suffrage not be the right one for developing countries to follow?

III. Making Democracy Succeed in Europe A. Heterogeneity The same options for dealing with heterogeneity conflicts are open in Europe as in developing countries – create separate countries or federalism. Both have been tried. The dismantling of Yugoslavia after the collapse of Communism is perhaps the most dramatic example of creating separate countries to mitigate heterogeneity conflicts. Kosovo’s creation is another. Belgium seems poised to divide along linguistic lines one day, and someday we may see a fully independent Scotland. Although creating new states often seems a reasonable way to deal with conflicts caused by ethnic, linguistic, or religious differences, almost no elected politician is ever willing to contemplate giving up even as much as one square meter of “their” land. Thus, although allowing Corsica to become an independent nation might put an end to the violence that erupts from time to time on that island, a step which would have little or no

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material impact on the rest of France, Corsica’s independence does not seem immanent. Switzerland has strong federalist institutions, and several other countries are moving toward creating them, most notably Spain and Great Britain. More are likely to follow. The European Union itself is organized more or less as a confederation, and seems likely to remain one. Thus, federalism and confederation have been and are likely to continue to be successful ways in which Europe deals with heterogeneity within its indigenous population. The most serious problems related to population heterogeneity in Europe are caused by additions to the population through immigration. With the notable exception of Northern Island, conflicts between Catholics and Protestants or between Christians and Jews have disappeared in Europe. The influx of Muslims and in some countries Hindus has rekindled religious conflict, however. The bombings in Madrid and London are the most dramatic instances of such conflicts, but many more less spectacular examples could be cited. In deciding how liberal its immigration policy should be, Europe should consider the potential costs from increasing religious heterogeneity and conflict. Because of the unchecked population growth in Africa and its associated poverty, immigration pressure from this continent is strong and intensifying. Although many African immigrants are also Muslims, others are Christians or members of traditional, local religions. The primary danger posed by African immigrants, therefore, is not so much related to religion as it is to skin color. Because they are black, the danger exists that Africans will not be successfully integrated. France and Britain serve as examples for the rest of Europe. Any European country with a small black population today that adopts a liberal immigration policy with respect to sub-Saharan Africa can expect one of two eventual outcomes: (1) its black population resides largely in poor, segregated communities on the fringes of its cities where crime and unemployment are high, particularly among young males, or (2) it has become the first country in the world with a largely white population to integrate blacks successfully both socially and economically. Anyone who believes the second scenario would be likely for her country has either come up with a set of integration policies that no other country has ever tried or is wildly optimistic about racial tolerance in her country. The conclusion to be drawn is that Europe must be cautious in opening its doors to immigrants who would possibly create new conflicts over religion or ethnicity. The United States is perhaps the best example of a country that has benefited from massive immigration. It is also, however, a dramatic

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example of how difficult it can be to integrate a different ethnic group. A century and a half after all blacks were given full citizenship, they have still not been fully integrated socially and economically. The culture wars that have polarized the United States in recent years also dramatize how, even within a country of supposedly well-educated citizens, religious differences can lead to conflict.

B. Citizen Ignorance Immigrants tend, for obvious reasons, to be ignorant of their new homecountry’s history and political institutions and perhaps even its language. Tests to establish minimum knowledge in these areas before an immigrant takes up citizenship are common and can be easily justified. Indeed, what is less obvious is why all citizens should not be required to pass such tests before they are allowed to vote. Although illiteracy is not a great problem in Europe, many Europeans are functionally illiterate in that they cannot read a short newspaper article and pass a test on its content. Many Europeans who are not functionally illiterate still lack a basic knowledge of their country’s history and political institutions. Requiring that a citizen pass such a test before being allowed to vote would elevate the status of voting, and would perhaps induce Europeans to become better informed about political issues before they vote. Such a reform would run against current trends, however, with respect to voting requirements. A few years ago, Austria removed a restriction that prevented mentally retarded people from voting. It recently reduced the minimum age for voting from eighteen to sixteen. Thus, people who have yet to obtain even a secondary education are eligible to vote. Austrian lawmakers apparently do not believe that knowledge and intelligence are important prerequisites for voting. At the same time, politicians in Austria and other European countries often seem perplexed when voters reject the seemingly sensible platforms of centrist parties for those of extremist parties. Perhaps voter intelligence and knowledge do affect the way people vote.

IV. Making Democracy Succeed in the United States A. Heterogeneity Since its founding, the United States has successfully integrated millions of immigrants. Most immigrants up until recently came from Europe, however,

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and thus were relatively easy to integrate because they were all of the same ethnicity and overwhelmingly Christian. The main obstacle to integration was language, but this obstacle disappeared in a generation or two as the children of immigrants went to American schools and adopted English as their first language. Today, the heaviest concentration of immigrants comes from Mexico and further south. In parts of the United States, Spanish is spoken on the street more often than English. Should Spanish become a second, official language in the United States, it would most likely lead to the kinds of conflict over language that have plagued most if not all multilingual countries. Efforts to allow immigrants to use their native languages at school in the name of preserving cultural values should be resisted to avoid this potential cost of heterogeneity. The most conspicuous heterogeneity problem in the United States has been the inability to fully integrate blacks and native Americans. Barack Obama’s election as president is an encouraging indication of the progress being made in the United States to integrate blacks. However, the fact that it has taken almost a century and a half since slaves were freed for a black person to get elected president shows how deep-seated heterogeneity problems can be.

B. Citizen Ignorance Most European countries have centralized political systems, so that universal education there means that students in France or Sweden gets more or less the same education no matter where they live. The same is not true in federalist America. Great disparities exist in the quality of education children receive in Massachusetts and Mississippi, and great disparities exist in the quality of education children receive within states between poor neighborhoods of large cities and rich suburbs. Although some students get excellent educations, the average student receives a mediocre education. The Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development’s (OECD) Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) study for 2006 tested 400,000 fifteen year olds in fifty-seven countries. Students in Finland achieved the highest average scores in science, 563. The United States ranked 29 with an average score of 489, lower than Croatia, Iceland, and Latvia. In mathematics, the United States was ranked 35 with an average score of 474, just behind Azerbaijan and Russia, (the highest score was 549 for Chinese Taipei; Finland scored 548).5 Clearly, the richest country in the 5

See http://www.pisa.oecd.org/pages/0,2987,en 32252351 32235731 1 1 1 1 1,00.html.

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world is failing to provide its children with the kind of education they need to succeed in the modern world. It is also failing to provide them with the kind of education they need to be good citizens. Polls conducted between 1997 and 2007 by the National Constitution Center asked respondents whether they thought each of the following rights or freedoms was protected by the U.S. Constitution. The range of percentages of people answering yes over the eleven years is presented next to each right’s category.6 Freedom of press Freedom of speech Freedom of religion Right to petition Right of assembly/association

11 – 16 % 44 – 46 % 13 – 22 % 8 – 16 % 8 – 14 %

Of course, the First Amendment guarantees all five. Because this is the most important of the ten amendments making up the Bill of Rights, the fact that most respondents were unaware of its contents is disturbing. Answers to other questions reveal a similar lack of knowledge about the First Amendment’s content and intent. Although the largest fraction of respondents know that the First Amendment protects the right of free speech, between 39 and 53 percent of respondents between 1997 and 2007 mildly or strongly disagreed with the statement, “People should be allowed to say things in public that might be offensive to religious groups.” Between 52 and 65 percent mildly or strongly agreed that “Teachers and other public school officials should be allowed to lead prayers in public schools.” In 2007, 65 percent mildly or strongly agreed that “The nation’s founders intended that the United States to be a Christian nation”; 55 percent mildly or strongly agreed that “The U. S. Constitution establishes a Christian nation.” In 2007 (2000), 50 (56) percent mildly or strongly agreed that “A public school teacher should be allowed to use the Bible as a factual text in a history or social studies class.”7 Students attending parochial schools typically score somewhat higher on standard reading and arithmetic tests than public school students. They probably would also be more likely to believe that the bible or other religious texts should be used for classroom instruction in history or social studies. They probably are also not particularly well informed about the use of contraceptives to prevent pregnancy and AIDS. Another reason to improve 6 7

See http://www.firstamendmentcenter.org/pdf/SOFA2007results.pdf. Ibid.

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the quality of public schools in the United States is to attract children back into them, so that they do not obtain a view of the world and history through the distorted prism of a particular religion. Indeed, one could go even further and require that all students attend schools with secular curricula to ensure that they obtain the education needed to be good citizens. Parents must be allowed to supplement state education with religious instruction, but they should not be allowed to substitute it for a secular education, or to opt out of the state education system entirely if the community wants to ensure that its future citizens have the knowledge and values to perform their citizen duties properly. Tests to establish whether a citizen is functionally literate and knows something about U.S. history and political institutions can also be defended for the United States. The state of Maryland requires that all high school students pass a basic exam in civics before they can graduate. It does not, however, require that its citizens pass a similar test before they are allowed to vote. Without a high school diploma, many job opportunities are closed. The costs imposed on someone who cannot get a job because he failed a civics test are far greater than the costs of not being allowed to vote. Why is the community better off if a postman, say, has a knowledge of civics than if a voter does?

V. The Threat to Liberalism The “triumph of the West” in terms of living standards, longevity, ease of communication, travel, or any number of other measures of success can, of course, be traced to scientific and technological discoveries. Although other cultures (notably Ancient China and the Islamic Caliphate) made significant scientific and technological advances, none developed and exploited science’s potential to the degree that the West has. This success must be attributed to the triumph of reason over superstition that began in Ancient Greece and resumed in Europe during the Renaissance. The good scientist is forever trying to understand and explain the world around her, forever asking questions. Does the sun circle the earth or the earth the sun? Why does blood circulate in animals? Why does the theory underlying quantum physics appear to be inconsistent with Einstein’s theory of relativity? The Greeks were great scientists and philosophers because they questioned everything. Once a culture begins to forbid asking certain questions because of reverence for the past, a religion, or because some people may not want to hear the answers, it risks shutting off scientific inquiry and, in the extreme, of undermining the very culture that led to the West’s triumph.

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Liberal democracy and free markets are natural complements to a scientific culture. Constitutional guarantees to think and say what one wants extend to the civic sphere the openness to inquiry and new ideas of science. Free markets expand an individual’s freedom to live and enjoy his private life as he chooses. One of Western culture’s great achievements has been to secure these liberal rights for all citizens, to protect them from both the State and the Church, both of which historically have sought to constrain what an individual can think and do, and to subjugate him to their authority. Citizens of the European Union need look no further than Russia to the east and Iran to the southeast to see cultures in which State and Church continue to deny their citizens freedoms, which in the European Union are taken for granted. It is a mistake to take them for granted. Liberal rights are always vulnerable in majoritarian democracies, and they are under attack today in most Western democracies. One attack comes from disciples of political correctness who wish to restrict freedom of speech and thought. France outlaws the denial that Turks committed genocide against Armenians; Turkey outlaws claiming that they did. Once righteous majorities are able to dictate what people can say, think, and do when these actions cannot noticeably affect the safety of the community, the door swings open for every ideological group to try to make its version of history and set of morals the law. The second threat to liberalism comes from religious extremists. They are not content simply to hold their own religious beliefs and to practice their religion; they demand that the rest of the community do so also. Private choices of the utmost importance to an individual – whether to get pregnant or not, whether to have a baby or not, the choice of a sexual partner – become subject to constraints imposed by religious groups based on a few lines of texts written centuries ago. In North and increasingly in South America, the threat comes mostly from Christians. In Europe, it comes from Muslims. In the Jewish state of Israel, it comes from extremist Jews. In each case, to defend the freedom of individuals to do, think, and say what they want can put one’s life at stake, as the Dutch film maker Theo Van Gogh tragically learned. The first line of defense in a liberal democracy against those wishing to curtail individual freedoms is the judicial system. Although judges are supposed to be impartial interpreters of the constitution and laws, often they are not. Sometimes, also, as with judicial appointments to federal courts in the United States, a judge’s appointment depends on her likely judicial position on certain issues. Today, no person could be elected U.S. president who did not proclaim a strong belief in God and active participation in

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some church. The same appears to be true for appointees to the Supreme Court. All recent appointees have claimed to be devout Christians. Will their religious views color their judgments in cases dealing with separation of church and state, with abortion, homosexual rights, the death penalty? Antonin Scalia, both a staunch Catholic and a Supreme Court judge, has openly stated that there is a link between how Christian a country is and its support for the death penalty, and uses this argument to explain the death penalty’s popularity in the United States compared to Europe.8 Will Scalia’s religious convictions influence his interpretation of the U.S. Constitution with regard to the death penalty? How could they not? How could any of the devout Christians on the bench remain true to their religious convictions if these convictions did not affect their judgments? Citizens who wish to preserve or reestablish liberal rights in their countries must, therefore, be willing to stand up for them. Each effort by one segment of a community to impose its beliefs on the rest must be vigorously opposed. Liberalism protects every individual’s right to believe whatever he wishes, but it also protects the rights of others to point out that particular beliefs are nonsense and to oppose policies that would force one person to conform to another’s beliefs. Rich democracies face intense pressure to admit immigrants from thirdworld countries. The United States has received a steady stream of immigrants – both legal and illegal – for several years. Most come from Mexico and further south and are Catholic, although increasing numbers are converting to evangelism and other extremist Christian religions. Should the United States not stem the flow of immigrants, the religious Right is likely to become an ever more powerful force in American politics and its liberal democratic institutions will be further endangered. While religious extremists are already an important political force in the United States, they remain a minority in much of Europe, and so far do not pose a major political threat. They can and have, however, caused death and destruction through isolated acts of terrorism and assassinations and have damaged Europe’s liberal democratic institutions by engendering fear in people’s minds that if they exercise their rights to free speech, they too may become the target of a religious extremist. Populations in the Middle East grow by 2 to 3 percent per year. These growth rates produce an age distribution heavily skewed toward the young. Two-thirds of Iran’s population, for example, is under thirty.9 The 8 9

Jacoby (2008, pp. 198–200). Economist, July 27, 2007, p. 3.

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state-regulated economies that dominate the Middle East cannot produce enough jobs to absorb their rapidly expanding workforces, thus creating high unemployment, particularly among young males, who are most vulnerable to fall prey to radical ideologies. High unemployment plus political unrest in places like Palestine, Lebanon, and Iraq has generated a stream of migrants to the European Union. Because there is little sign that Middle Eastern countries will take serious steps to control their population growth or liberate their economies, immigration pressures from it must, if anything, intensify. Even if only a small fraction of all immigrants from the Middle East are or become religious extremists, they will pose an increasing threat to European liberalism.

VI. The Good Citizen The approach to citizenship advocated here dates back, not surprisingly, to the Enlightenment, and is most closely related to the French concept of citizenship that goes under the name of la¨ıcit´e. Laborde (2003) identifies three elements within la¨ıcit´e. The first is neutrality – a clean separation of church and state, which was prominent in Enlightenment thinking. The second is autonomy – the state’s education system should develop a secular autonomy in its citizens, which allows them to make rational choices unencumbered by religious dogmatism or other traditional, oppressive, or obscurantist modes of thought: “Citizenship consecrated the human capacity for freedom – its ability to shake off all obstacles to the expression of the autonomous rational will.”10 “In its commitment to the promotion of individual autonomy, [la¨ıcit´e] is centrally concerned with the legitimate limits of toleration, and its advocates often show puzzlement at the idea that the toleration of nonliberal practices of domination can ever be a liberal virtue. La¨ıcit´e [thus] provides a perfectionist solution to the paradox of liberal toleration.”11 The third element of la¨ıcit´e is a sense of civic loyalty. Education should actively promote a sense of civic spirit and commitment to the secular community. It is not enough simply to equip citizens with the faculty of reasoning, so that they potentially can participate in the deliberative, democratic process; they must be motivated to employ this faculty to this end. This French conception of citizenship obviously has much in common with the Athenian notion. It does not fit comfortably with the belief that a future citizen’s parents should have the right to determine the child’s education regardless 10 11

Laborde (2003, p. 166). Laborde (2003, p. 169).

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of how illiberal their ideas about education are.12 If a country wishes to be a liberal democracy and to have its political institutions produce desirable outcomes, then it must ensure that its citizens are capable of making wise political choices and share a set of liberal values. Entrusting children’s education to parents or schools that do not share these goals and values will not produce this result.

VII. Too Hard on Religion? Because religious beliefs of one sort or another are found in all societies, many people argue that “religion is a primary human need.”13 I disagree. Humans have a primary need to understand their environments so that they can survive. Seeking answers to questions and trying to understand causal relationships is fundamental to human survival and can be classified as a primary human need. Religion provides one set of explanations for particular events, science another. In the absence of a scientific explanation, humans are likely to substitute a religious one. However, once the scientific explanation for a seemingly inexplicable event has been found, humans can – and many do – abandon the religious one. Once one understands the heart’s role in blood circulation and the importance of blood circulation for life, one can understand why a person dies when his heart stops beating. One does not need to postulate the existence of evil spirits. Thus, many people can and do get along quite well without assuming that invisible spirits and gods are the causes of various events. Presumably, an entire society composed of such people could survive. Indeed, early twenty-first-century Europe seems close to being such a society. Although many Europeans state that they believe in God, this belief does not seem to affect their thinking about buying a new car or voting for a Green Party out of concern for the environment. If a sudden bout of amnesia were to afflict all Europeans and block out their memories about religion, life in Europe would go on, I conjecture, more or less unchanged. My juxtaposing liberal democracy and religion will undoubtedly have irritated some readers. Here let me repeat: The extent to which religious beliefs are incompatible with liberal democracy and more generally with rational thought depends on both the nature of those beliefs and the intensity with which they are held. The religious beliefs of a Thomas Jefferson 12 13

Kymlicka’s (2001, ch. 16) discussion of education for citizenship has much in common with mine also. Gray (2007, p. 208).

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are less inimical to liberal democracy and rational thought than those of a Grand Ayatollah Seyyed Ruhollah Mustafavi Khomeini. Indeed, under one interpretation, there is no apparent contradiction between belief in a god and pursuit of rational inquiry. As Hobbes so nicely put it: There is no natural reason, that can be against the law divine, for God Almighty hath given reason to man to be a light to him. And I hope it is no impiety to think, that God Almighty will require a strict account thereof, at the day of judgment, as of the instructions which we were to follow in our peregrination here; notwithstanding the opposition and affronts of supernaturalists now-a-days, to rational and moral conversation. (Hobbes, [1650]1994, ch. 19, §12, p. 103)

Here Hobbes reveals both a belief in God and that God gave us the power to reason and must expect us to use it. He also reveals, however, a fear that some will consider this reasoning an impiety as, of course, many did then and do now. The historical record on this is quite clear. The Catholic Church’s lists of banned books included most of the great works of Western literature and philosophy, including all of Hobbes’s writings. Leaders of the Catholic Church opposed the adoption of democratic institutions well into the twentieth century. Islamic countries have been extremely slow to jump on the democratic bandwagon. Some readers will also complain that I focus too much on the threat of religion to liberal democracy and ignore the threats of political religions such as Fascism and Communism. As explained earlier, I think that the term political religion is a poor metaphor. Fascism and Communism do not possess the salient characteristics of a religion as presented in Chapter Three. A more general argument to the one I have presented is that all ideologies are inimical to democracy to the extent that they require their followers to suspend their powers of reasoning and unquestioningly accept the dictates of a divine leader, and the dogmas of a divine book. Fascism and Communism demanded uncritical acceptance of the accounts of history and analyses of human behavior contained in Mein Kampf and Das Kapital; Christianity and Islam demand uncritical acceptance of the accounts of history and analyses of human behavior contained in the Bible and the Koran. All four have demanded that their followers be willing to die and kill for their beliefs, and each at different points of time has made its own major contribution to human suffering and bloodshed. My reason for focusing on religion is that, today, Fascism and Communism have lost much of their appeal in most parts of the world, and thus do not pose immediate threats to liberal democracy. The rise of religious extremism – Christianity in the Americas, Islam in much of the rest of the world, Hinduism in India,

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and Judaism in Israel – do pose such a threat. It is religious extremists, therefore, who deserve the closest attention today from those who defend liberal democracy. On August 10, 1787, Thomas Jefferson offered advice on matters of education to a young man named Peter Carr. When he came to the topic of religion, he offered this advice: Your reason is now mature enough to examine this object [religion]. In the first place, divest yourself of all bias in favor of novelty and singularity of opinion. Indulge them in any other subject rather than that of religion. On the other hand, shake off all the fears and servile prejudices, under which weak minds are servilely crouched. Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion. Question with boldness even the existence of God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blindfolded fear . . . Read the Bible, then as you would read Livy or Tacitus . . . But those facts in the Bible which contradict the laws of nature, must be examined with more care, and under a variety of faces. Here you must recur to the pretensions of the writer to inspiration from God. Examine upon what evidence his pretensions are founded, and whether that evidence is so strong, as that its falsehood would be more improbable than a change in the laws of nature, in the case he relates. For example, in the book of Joshua, we are told, the sun stood still several hours. Were we to read that fact in Livy or Tacitus, we should class it with their showers of blood, speaking of statues, beasts, etc. But it is said that the writer of the book was inspired . . . The pretension is entitled to your inquiry, because many believe it. On the other hand, you are astronomer enough to know how contrary it is to the law of nature that a body revolving on its axis, as the earth does, should have stopped, should not, by that sudden stoppage, have prostrated animals, trees, buildings, and should after a certain time have resumed its revolution, and without a second general prostration. Is this arrest of the earth’s motion, or the evidence which affirms it, most within the law of probabilities? You will next read the New Testament . . . In fine, I repeat, you must lay aside all prejudice on both sides, and neither believe nor reject anything, because any other persons, or description of persons, have rejected or believed it. Your own reason is the only oracle given you by heaven . . . (Jefferson, [1787]1944, pp. 431–3)

That Thomas Jefferson was a man of the Enlightenment is obvious from this passage. One wonders how many of the initial candidates for the U.S. presidency in 2008, Republican or Democrat, would offer similar advice to their children? How many would dare admit it, if they did? If Jefferson were a candidate for president today, and a newspaper printed his letter to Peter Carr, as certainly some newspaper would, Jefferson would not have the slightest chance of being elected. The realization of this fact should be of concern to every American, and underscores as well as any argument can the threat religion poses to liberal democracy.

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Author Index

Acemoglu, Daron, 9n Alesina, Alberto, 245, 256n Alvarez, Michael E., 261–3 Anderson, John, 362n Arblaster, Paul, 156n, 157n, 210n Arendt, Hannah, 228n Aristotle, 15n As-Sallaabee, ‘Ali Muhammad, 116n, 118n, 119n, 120n, 121n Asch, Solomon, 231n Ashforth, Adam, 325n, 326n Augustine, St., 14, 138, 142, 386 Axelrod, Robert, 35, 38n Bacon, Francis, 136 Baker, Peter, 370n Barclay, Gordon, 393n, 395, 396n Barro, Robert J., 399n Barry, Brian, 345, 346n Barzel, Yoram, 83n Beard, Charles A., 189 Beccaria, Cesare Bonesana, 179–80 Beitz, Charles, 339n Bentham, Jeremy, 271 Bergen, Doris L., 223 Bernholz, Peter, 192n Bickel, Alexander, 188n, 271n Biden, Joseph R., Jr., 300 Bilefsky, Dan, 283n Binmore, Ken, 342n Black, Antony, 148n Blackbourn, David, 198n, 202n, 212n, 214n, 216n, 233n Blackstone, William, 180 Blankart, Charles B., 11n Boix, Carles, 3, 9n, 95, 101

Borooah, Vani K., 398n Boyer, Pascal, 36n, 37n, 38n, 48n, 54n, 55n, 56n, 57n, 58n, 59n, 60n, 63n, 64, 65–6, 69 Bradley, Bill, 251–2 Brandt, Richard B., 294, 298, 304 Brennan, Geoffrey, 320n Browning, Lynnley, 346n Buchanan, James M., 167, 246, 247, 248n, 249, 274n, 280n, 281n, 310n, 311n, 312n Burke, Edmund, 193–5 Burkhart, Ross E., 3 Burleigh, Michael, 198n, 199n, 213n, 214, 215n, 220n, 355n, 383n, 384 Burnett, Victoria, 325n Callan, Eamonn, 327n, 328n Camerer, Colin, 36n Canning, J. P., 152n Caplan, Bryan, 320, 321n Carens, Joseph H., 339, 348 Catania, A. Charles, 31n Chabaud, Alfred, 269 Chang, Howard F., 340n, 348 Cheibub, Jos´e Antonio, 261–3 Chojnacki, Stanley, 151n Chubb, Judith, 254n Chubb, John E., 317n Coggins, Jay S., 152n Cohen, Jonathan D., 36n Collins, Kathleen, 253–4 Commager, Henry Steele, 190 Condorcet, Marquis de, 114, 135, 159, 178, 400–1 Congleton, Roger, 156, 157n, 208n, 210n, 211n, 212n

437

438

Author Index

Cornwall, John, 226n Cosmides, Leda, 35n, 36n, 38n, 80, 337n Dahl, Robert A.,14n, 266n Dahrendorf, Ralf, 212n Dalton, Russell J., 4n, 5n, 251n, 252n, 255n Darwin Charles, 31 Davis, Douglas D., 34n Dawkins, Richard, 24, 38n Delzell, Charles F., 224n Dennett, Daniel C., 56n, 63n, 66n, 382n, 390 Di Tella, Rafael, 175n Diamond, Jared, 332n Donald, Merlin, 43–7, 71, 83n, 84, 89n, 95–6, 97n, 98, 100n Douglas, Mary, 307n Dryzek, John, 245 Dummett, Ann, 339–40 Dworkin, Ronald, 300n Dybikowski, James, 169n, 170n, 177n Easterly, William, 196n, 261, 309n, 310n Economic Report of the President, 19n Economist, 4n, 8n, 9n, 11n, 13n, 22n, 66n, 81n, 260n, 307n, 308n, 326n, 329n, 333n, 341n, 349n, 358n, 379n, 387n, 413n Ehrenberg, Victor, 104n Ekelund, Robert B., Jr., 62n, 64n, 81n, 111n, 112 Erlanger, Steven, 333n Esposito, John L., 122n, 133, 382n Fadiman, Anne, 293n Farrar, Cynthia, 104 Feld, Lars P., 267n Ferguson, Frances, 193n, 194n Fern´andez-Armesto, Felipe, 44, 45 Fest, Joachim, 219n Field, Alexander J., 38n Finer, S. E., 1n, 79, 82n, 83n, 84, 85n, 86, 87–8, 89n, 100n, 101n, 102n, 103n, 106, 107n, 108n, 109n, 110n, 111n, 117n, 121n, 123n, 124n, 125n, 126, 127n, 128n, 131, 132–3, 148n, 152n, 152n, 154n, 175n, 177n, 182n, 183n, 185–7, 189n, 190, 196 Fiorina, Morris P., 250n, 253n Fitzpatrick, Martin, 181n Fleck, Robert K., 95n Frey Bruno S., 175n Fulbrook, Mary, 202n, 212n, 216n Furniss, Tom, 175n

Gailus, Manfred, 222n Galston, William, 17 Garrioch, David, 191, 196 Gentleman, Amelia, 242n Gibbon, Edward, 112–4, 117–8, 122–3 Gilbert, F., 152n Gilens, Martin, 245 Glaeser, Edward, 245 Goldstein, Thomas, 97, 98, 128, 129n, 130n, 131, 136n, 138n, 139n, 142n, 143n, 144n, 146, 157–8 Goodin, Robert E., 245, 340, 348 Gouges, Marie Olympe Aubry de, 178 Grafton, Anthony, 140n, 143–4 Graham, Judith, 367n Gray, John, 24–5, 415n Guiso, Luigi, 390–2 Gutmann, Amy, 285–6, 289–90 Haas, J., 82n Hale, John, 138n, 139n, 141, 146n Hall, Marie Boas, 140, 143n, 144n, 145n, 146n Hamilton, Alastair, 140n Hamlin, Alan P., 294n, 320n Hanssen, F. Andrew, 95n Harnad, Steven, 31n Harris, Marvin, 57n, 58n, 381n, 382n Hart, H. L. A., 311n Harvey, William, 159 Hayek, Friedrich A., 196n, 294n H´ebert, Robert F., 64n Hellmuth, Eckhart, 181n, 182n, 183n Hendrickson, David C., 343n Henry, John, 159n, 160, 161n Hersh, Seymour M., 403 Hexham, Irving, 220n, 228–9 Hibbing, John R., 250n Hirschman, Albert O., 43n Hitchens, Christopher, 24 Hitler, Adolph, 221 Hobbes, Thomas, 51, 53–4, 295, 296, 382n, 416 Hochman, Harold M., 244n Hoffman, Elizabeth, 34n Hofstadter, Richard, 375n, 376n, 377–8 Holbach, Paul Henri Thiry, baron d’, 173 Holmes, Stephen, 42n, 43, 382n Holt, Charles A., 34n Holton, Woody, 204n, 205n, 206n

Author Index Hornblower, Simon, 101, 102n, 103n Horton, Robin, 68–71, 90n, 107 Hume, David, 41–2, 47, 51, 69, 72, 170, 296n Huntington, Samuel P., 23 Iannacone, Laurence R., 392n Isocrates, 104n Israel, Jonathan, 155n, 156n, 157n Jackson, Clare, 183n, 191n, 193n Jacoby, Susan, 369n, 413n Jefferson, Thomas, 239, 311n, 346–7, 417 Johnson Simon, 9n Jones, Charles, 303, 306, 307–8 Kahneman, Daniel, 175n Kant, Immanuel, 70, 176–7, 182, 192 Kavka, Gregory S., 275n Keefer, Philip, 391n Kelek, Necl´a, 349–50, 363 Kendall, Wilmore, 248n Khan, Yasmin, 359n Kiewiet, D. Roderick, 250n Kinder, Donald R., 250n Kindleberger, Charles P., 151n Kirchg¨assner, Gebhard, 250n, 267n Kitto, H. D. F., 93n, 94n, 97n, 101n, 102n, 103n, 107n Klausen, Jytte, 62n, 386n, 392n Klosko, George, 368 Knack, Stephen, 391n Knellwolf, Christa, 184n Kossmann, E. H., 210n Kramer, Gerald H., 250n Krueger, Alan B., 175n Kymlicka, Will, 287n, 415n Laborde, C´ecile, 414 LaFraniere, Sharon, 306n La Mettrie, Julien de La Offray, 172 Ledyard, John O., 34n Levin, Michael, 206n, 207n, 208n, 209n Lewis, Bernard, 123n, 125n, 128n, 132, 135n, 358n, 362–3, 373n, 379n, 386n, 388 Lewis-Beck, Michael S., 3, 250n Lieberman, Philip, 45n Limongi, Fernando, 261–3 Lind, Jo Thori, 245n Lindsay, D. Michael, 321n, 364, 378n Lipford, Jody, 392n Lipset, Seymour M., 2

439

Locke, John, 31, 162–4, 169, 171–2, 174, 297n Loewenstein, George, 36n Lomasky, Loren E., 298n, 320n Lyons, David, 294n, 310 Lyttkens, Carl Hampus, 95n MacCulloch, Robert, 175n MacDowell, Douglas M., 104n Machin, Ian, 208n Mack, Peter, 140n MacLeod, Scott, 362n Madison, James, 106 Mandeville, Bernard, 184 Mann, Nicholas, 136n, 137n, 138n, Marcano, Cristina, 321n Marchione, Margherita, 226n Margalit, Avishai, 285n Markus, Gregory B., 250n Martin, John, 153n Martines, Lauro, 136–7, 140n, 148–9, 150n, 152n, 154n Matsusaka, John G., 19n, 256n May, Kenneth O., 249n McCormick, Robert E., 392n McGirk, Tim, 389n McGowen, Randall, 178, 179n, 180n, McKeon, Richard, 15n McMahon, Darrin M., 172, 173n, 174n McNeill, William H., 83n, 85n, 117n, 118n, 122n, 123n, 124n, 125n, 128n, 129, 130n, 137n, 142n, 161n, 199n, 203n Mekhennet, Souad, 380n Mercier, Louis-S´ebastien, 183 Mill, John Stuart, 17, 207, 278–9, 357–8, 362 Miller, David, 306 Minkenberg, Michael, 399n Moe, Terry M., 317n Mokyr, Joel, 46, 97, 142n, 145n, 160, 254 Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de, 179, 281n Montgomery, Paul, 374n Morison, Samuel Eliot, 215 Mueller, Dennis C., 38n, 107n, 240n, 244n, 246n, 247n, 248n, 249n, 271n, 338n, 343n Munck, Thomas, 164n, 173, 177n, 178n, 181n, 192n, 268n, 269n Nauert, Charles G., Jr., 136n, 137, 140n, 141 Newton, Kenneth, 255

440

Author Index

Norris, Pippa, 255 North, Douglass C., 9, 254n, 308n Nye, John V. C., 254 Olson, Mancur, Jr., 67n, 89–90, 256n Operario, Don, 374n Ostrom, Elinor, 34n Pagden, Anthony, 23–4, 90n, 102n, 109n, 110n, 118n, 382n, 383n, 386n Paldam, Martin, 398n Pareto, Vilfredo, 1 Parry, Geraint, 175n, 176n Parry, Jonathan, 208n Pearce, Malcolm, 208n Perali, C. Federico, 152n Petersen, Roger D., 40–1, 217, 359 Pharr, Susan J., 4n, 5n, 255n Pinker, Steven, 36n, 37n, 38n, 39n, 41n, 244n, 319n, 337n, 384n Piper, Ernst, 220, 222n, 228 Pogge, Thomas W., 302–3, 306, 339n Popper, Karl, 107n Porter, Michael A., 330n Prelec, Drazen, 36n Presse, Die, ix, 398n Przeworski, Adam, 261–3 Putnam, Robert D., 4n, 5n, 254n, 255n, 330n, 333–4 Quigley, Carroll, 59n, 83 Quigley, Joan, 377n Rae, Douglas W., 247–9, 274n Ramachandran, Vilayanur S., 35n Rawls, John, 279–80, 310n, 311n, 312n, 339, 341–2 Raz, Joseph, 285n R´eaume, Denise G., 288n Reeve, Michael D., 137n Regan, Donbald, 377n Reimer, Neal, 274n Rissmann, Michael, 221 Robinson, James, 9n Roche, John R., 189n Rodgers, James D., 244n Romano, Dennis, 153n R¨osch, Gerhard, 151 Rosenberg, Alfred, 219–20 Roth, Alvin E., 34n

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 165–8, 252 Roux, Georges, 84n Rubin, Paul H., 38n, 244n Russell, Bertrand, 160n, 164n, 165n, 168, 193n Rutland, Robert A., 277n Sacerdote, Bruce, 245 Sandel, Michael J., 324n Sapienza, Paola, 390–2 Sardar, Ziauddin, 131n Savioz, Marcel R., 267n Schneider, Wieland, 398n Schorske, Carl E., 212n, 216n Sen, Amartya K., 277n Shaw, Christine, 149n, 150n Shue, Henry, 303, 306n Simonutti, Luisa, 176n Singer, Peter, 305 Skinner, B.F., 31n, 33, 35, 53 Slackman, Michael, 355n, 357n, 358n Slevin, Peter, 370n Smale, Alison, 380n Smith Adam, 64n Sperber, Dan, 71n Spinner-Halev, Jeff, 318n, 327n Staddon, J. E. R., 32 Stark, Rodney, 59n, 66n, 116–7, 394–5 Steigmann-Gall, Richard, 197n, 220n, 221–2 Steinberg, Jonathan, 6n, 7n, 267n Steiner, Hiller, 275n Stewart, Geoffrey, 208n Storing, Herbert J., 277n Stouffer, Samuel A., 368n Stowers, Stanley, 220n Stutzer, Alois, 175n Sunstein, Cass R., 278n Surowiecki, James, 320 Sutherland, Kathryn, 184n Tarcov, Nathan, 294n Tavares, Cynthia, 393n, 395, 396n Taylor, Michael J., 248n Taylor, Charles, 285n Thomas, Robert P., 9n Thucydides, 100, 105 Tiebout, Charles M., 344 Tilly, Charles, 14n, 266n

Author Index Tocqueville, Alexis de, 16, 19–21, 22–3, 189, 197–8, 400 Tollison, Robert D., 62n, 64n, 81n, 111n, 112, 392n Tooby, John, 35n, 36n, 38n, 80, 337n Trivers, Robert L., 38n, 39n, 244n Tullock, Gordon, 167, 246, 247, 248n, 249, 274n, 310n, 312n Tyszka, Alberto Barrera, 321n Underhill, Kristen, 374n van Creveld, Martin, 126, 213, 216 Vanhanen, Tatu, 259n, 266–7 Vasilescu, Octavian, 62n, 64n, 81n, 111n Verney, Douglas V., 211n Vinogradoff, Paul, 148n Voltaire, Franc¸ois-Marie Arouet de, 183

Wacsiarg, Romain, 256n Waldron, Jeremy, 279n Walker, James, 34n Wallis, John Joseph, Weingast, Barry R., 254n Wenar, Leif, 309n Wicksell, Knut, 167, 246n Wikstrom, Cecilia, 366n Wilson, Edward O., 80 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, Wood, Gordon S., 204n Wootton, David, 190n Young, H. Peyton, 247n Yutang, Lin, 229–30 Zak, Paul J., 391n Zakaria, Fareed, 255n, 259n Zingales, Luigi, 390–2 Zuccotti, Susan, 225–8, 233

441

Subject Index

abortion, 335, 367, 376 Abu Ghraib, 403 Adams, John, 206, 376 Adams, John Quincy, 376 Africa, 306–7, 309, see alsoindividual countries AIDS, 320, 325, 364, 373–4, 377, 380–1 alchemy, 143, 145 Albany Regency, 215 Al-Qaradawi, Sheikh Yousef, 62 American Revolution, see United States Amish, 291–2, 323–4, 326–9, 376 Ancient Greece, see Greece, Ancient anti-Semitism in Austria, 212, 216–7 and Catholic Church, 202, 224–7 and Christianity, 222–3 in France, 216–7 in Germany, 212, 216–8, 219, 222–3 in Lithuania, 40–1 in nineteenth century, 212–3, 217 and Protestantism, 202 Aquinas, Thomas, 138–9 Archimedes, 99 Argentina, 261, 395–6 Aristotle, 14, 15, 17, 96, 98, 99, 100, 108, 130, 152, 160, 161, 169 astrology, 82, 140, 143, 145, 146, 377 astronomy, 82, 84, 91, 130, 143, 144, 145, 146, 157, 159 atheism, 160, 172–3, 198 Atat¨urk, Kemal, 134–5, 363 Athens, see Greece, Ancient Augustine, 14, 138, 142, 386 Australia, 17, 330, 348, 398

Austria anti-Semitism in, 212, 216–7 democracy in, 204, 232, 234 liberalism in, 212, 236 trust in politicians, 4 voting franchise in, 234, 408 World War I, 383 Aztecs, 57 Bacon, Francis, 136, 143–4, 157, 161 Barbaroux, Charles, 268–9 Beccaria, Cesare Bonesana, 179–80 Belgium, 210, 266, 287, 336, 406 Benin, 260 Bentham, Jeremy, 32, 174, 180, 279 Bhagavad Git¯a, 229, 231 Bible, 79, 86, 140, 142, 170, 229, 230, 231, 292, 358, 369, 370, 372, 375, 386, 387–8, 392, 405, 410, 416, 417 birth control, 10, 335, 367, 386–8, 405 Blackstone, William, 179–80 Bolivia, 260, 264 Book of Tao, 229–30 Bork, Robert, 300–1 Botswana, 261–4 Boyle, Robert, 160, 161 Brazil, 308–9 Brown, Dan, 364–5 Bryan, William Jennings, 375 Buch, Walter, 222 Buddhism, 61, 65–6, 67–8, 382, 390, 395 Buffon, Comte de, 196 Burke, Edmund, 70, 193–5 Bush, George W., 23, 73–4, 255, 363–4, 370, 373, 378, 402–3

442

Subject Index California, Southern, 331–2 Caliphate achievements, 121–3, 128–31, 144 corruption, 127, 132–3 origin, 188–201 politics, 126–8 religion and state, 123–6, 379 science, 128–31, 411, see also Islam Calvinism, 142, 349 Canada, 3, 17, 134, 287, 330, 348, 405 capital punishment, 299, 385, 413 caste system, 67 Catholic Church and anti-Semitism, 224–7 and birth control, 367, 380–1, 386–8, 405 and Communism, 223–6 and democracy, 199, 203 Forbidden Books, Index of, 199–201, 416 and modernism, 199, 203 as a monopoly, 64–5, 140 and Nazism, 223–8 and Protestantism, 202–3 and war, 383–4 Catholicism and redistribution, 392 and Protestantism, 7 and thrift and trust, 390–2 causality and learning, 46–9, 72 and psychology, 36–7 and religion, 52–6, 415 two levels, 47–8, 68–72 Chartres, School of, 142–3 Chavez, Hugo, 2, 17, 23, 315, 321 Chile, 257–9, 261, 395–6 China, Ancient achievements, 89–90, 411 Confucianism, 87–8, 91 Han Empire, 89 Legalism, 88, 91 origin, 87 religion, 91–2, 382 China, modern, 2, 3, 4, 24, 25, 308–9 Christ, Jesus, 68, 76, 111, 117, 120–1, 123, 125, 170, 174, 214 Christianity and afterlife, 61, 112–3, 114, 115, 138–9, 174 and AIDS, 374, 380–1 and anti-Semitism, 222–3

443

dualism in, 171 Enlightenment attacks, 169–71 Inquisition, 141, 155, 362, 363 and liberalism, 416 miracles, 170 origin, 111–4 and science, 138, 146–7, 368–70 and slavery, 385–6 and socialism, 214–5 and war, 142, 382–4, see alsoCatholicism and Protestantism Cicero, 108, 138, 139 citizenship in Ancient Greece, 15, 93, 95, 103–6, 114, 150, 267–8, 269 biased choices, 320–1, 402–4 and civic duty, 15–6, 22–3, 154, 232, 247, 250, 319 and democracy, 5, 27, 267–70, 406, 408 and education, 11–2, 16, 318, 323–4, 409–11 in Italian city-states, 149–50 laicit´e, 414 and ignorance, 250, 402–4, 409–11 and literacy, 257–64, 406 and religion, 379–80 in Rome, 110 Rousseau’s conception, 167 in Venice, 152–4, 208 city-states Ancient Greece, 93–5, 101–7 Renaissance, 137, 148–54, 158 Sumer, 81–5, 132, 381 Clarke, Samuel, 169–70 clash of civilizations, 23–4 Cleisthenes, 102–3, 106, 107, 254 Collins, Anthony, 169–70 Columbia, 395–6 Communism, 1, 24, 168, 213, 214, 217, 220, 223–6, 232, 332, 416 Condorcet, Marquis de, 162, 190, 191–2, 400–1 Condorcet Jury Theorem, 167, 168, 246–7, 248, 250, 269 Confucius, 87–8 conservatism, 70, 73, 76, 87, 107, 193–5, 319, 375, 377–8 constitutional rights conditional nature, 282 definition, 274–5 as entitlements, 286–7, 301–2

444

Subject Index

constitutional rights (cont.) and externalities, 276–8 free speech as, 275, 282, 283–5 justification, 274–7 and liberal democracy, 281–5 life as, 298–9 and majoritarian democracy,188, 278–80, 282–4 as moral rights, 310–3 relative nature, 280–1, 298–9 and religious toleration, 361–6 and sexual toleration, 366–8 contractarianism, see social contract cooperation, 37–9, 55, 80 Copernicus, 130, 144, 145–7, 158 corruption, 127, 132–3, 254, 309 cosmopolitan rights justification, 302–4 and world poverty, 305–10 culture episodic, 43–4 mimetic, 44, 57 mythic, 44–6, 70–1, 86, 108 progress of, 47–50 theoretic, 46–7, 71, 84, 91, 96, 108 Dark Ages, 115, 136, 138–9 Darrow, Clarence, 376 Declaration of Independence, 188–9, 366 democracy and Catholic Church, 199, 203, 416 conditions for success, 15–7, 27, 235–6, 257–65, 318–21, 404–11 definition of, 13–4 and economic development, 2–3, 261 and Enlightenment, 24–5 failures of, 4–5, 251–7 and heterogeneity, 5, 10–1, 42, 243, 247, 251–2, 257, 261, 402, 404–5, 406–9 and income distribution, 3, 9, 95, 101 Index of, 266–7 liberal, 1–2, 13–4, 203–13, 203–4, 232, 243, 412–7 reasons for, 240–6 and religion, 24, 27, 235, 261, 356–61, 368–76, 379–80, 397–9, 402–3, 415–7 and suffrage, 14, 204, 206–13, 236, 266–7 threats to, 19–23, 400 trust in, 3–5 Denmark, 18, 365, 380, 394 Descartes, Ren´e, 143–4, 145, 156, 158, 160–1

Dinter, Artur, 221–2 Dutch Republic, 70, 154–7, 158, 208 earmarks, 252 Eckart, Dietrich, 221, 222, 228 economic development conditions for, 9–10 and democracy, 2–3, 261 and population growth, 10, 12, 405–6 Ecuador, 260, 264, 266, 404 education and citizenship, 11–2, 318–21, 324–5, 409–10 and Confucianism, 88, 89 externalities from, 317–8, 321, 323–4, 327 and Enlightenment, 175–6, 417 and humanism, 139–40 nineteenth century reforms, 208, 213, 317 parental control, 291–2, 323–9, 375–6, 414–5 religious, 72, 321–9 scientific, 72–3 state defined, 316–21 Eichmann, Adolf, 228 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 377 elitism, 17, 20–2, empiricism, 136, 161–2 Enlightenment atheism, 172–3 and democracy, 24–5 and despotism, 24–5 economics, 183–5 education, 164, 176–7, 321 feminism, 178, 293, 388, 390 foundations, 159–68 justice, 178–81 and liberalism, 18, 177–8, 390 materialism, 171–2 optimism of, 70, 160, 177, 191–3, 400–1 politics, 181–3 progress, 12, 191–3 reason, 159, 169, 191–3, 400–1, 417 religion, 169–73, 176–7 science in, 159–62, 164 Scottish, 184–5, 196, 254 slavery, 178, 190, 293, 386, 390 tolerance, 176–7, 182, 361, 390 Epicurus, 172, 173–4, 175 episodic culture, 43–4 Erasmus, 137, 140, 155, 157 ethnic violence, 40–1, 217, 259, 359–60

Subject Index European Union Constitution, 21–2 democratic deficit, 19–22, 404 immigration into, 407, 414 evolution, 31–2, 43–50 externality definition, 241 from education, 317–8, 321, 323–4, 327 from migration, 344–5 physical, 18, 241–2, 358 psychological, 18, 242–3, 357–61, 364–5, 368 and rights, 276–8 evangelicals and capital punishment, 385 and democracy, 363–4, 372, 403 family size, 388 and foreign policy, 371–2 rituals of, 66 and science, 370 and second coming, 369 factions, 41–2, 102, 152, 168, 253–4, 269, see also interest groups fairness, 42–3 Falwell, Jerry, 62–3 Fang tribe, 63–4 Fascism, 213, 217, 223–4, 226, 233, 416, see also Nazism federalism, 7, 8, 11, 126, 190, 192, 405, 406–7 Federalist, The, 102, 168, 269 feudalism, 9, 147–8 Finland, 394, 409 Florence, 149, 150, 151–2 France anti-Semitism in, 216–7 citizenship (laicit´e), 414 and Corsica, 406–7 and EU Constitution, 21, 404 and genocide denial, 283, 412 Muslims in, 379 nineteenth century, 209, 212 racial integration, 407 religion in, 383 trust in politicians, 4 Franklin, Benjamin, 25, 205, 376 Frederick the Great, 171, 172, 181–2 free riding, 34, 39 freethinkers, 169, 181, 226

445

French Revolution Burke critique, 194–5 citizenship in, 268–9 consequences, 198, 203, 209, 401 Napoleon, 198, 209 as political religion, 197–8 Rousseau’s influence, 165, 187 Rights of Man, 185–8, 268 Galileo, 145–7, 158 Germany anti-Semitism in, 212, 216–8, 219 city-states in, 148 democracy in, 23, 204, 211–2, 214, 232, 234 liberalism in, 211–2, 236 religion in, 383–4, 386 Social Democratic Party, 214 trust in politicians, 4 Turks in, 349–50 women in, 386 see also, Nazism Gibson, Mel, 364 Glorious Revolution, 193–4, 254 Gouges, M. O. A. de, 178 Great Britain, 3–4, 153, 157, 193–5, 204, 207–8, 211, 236, 245, 254, 266, 308, 330, 333, 345–6, 380, 383–4, 407 Greece, Ancient citizenship, 15, 93, 95, 103–6, 150, 154, 167, 267–8, 269, 414 Cleisthenes, 102–3, 106, 107, 254 constitution, 102–3, 106, 254 democracy, 3, 14, 93–4, 101–3 optimism in, 107 origin, 94–5 Pericles, 93, 100, 105, 107, 114, 268, 269 reason, 95–9, 106, 114–5 religion, 97, 99–100 science, 95–9, 106, 411 Greece, modern, Greek Orthodoxy, Grotius, Hugo, 162, 179, 314 group rights justification, 285–7 language, 287–9 religious, 289–94, 323–4, 326–9 Hamilton, Alexander, 204, 206, 342–3, 376 happiness, 173–5 Haredim, 388–9

446

Subject Index

Harvey, William, 129, 159 Hegel, Friedrich, 213 Helv´etius, Claude Adrien, 175 heterogeneity costs of, 240–1, 243, 251–2, 332–8 and democracy, 5, 10–1, 42, 247, 257, 357–61, 402, 404–5, 406–9 and redistribution, 245–6, 342 types of, 332–7 Hinduism, 40, 65–6, 67–8, 382, 390, 392 Hippocrates, 100 Hitler, Adolf, 168, 212, 220, 221, 226, 227, 228 Hobbes, Thomas, 32, 80, 82, 156, 158, 181, 239, 279, 295, 296–8, 310, 314, 416 Holbach, Baron d’, 173 Holocaust denial, 283–4 Huckabee, Mike, 376–7 human rights, see natural rights humanism, 137–40, 157 Hume, David, 171, 183, 184, 196 immigration benefits, 329–31 costs, 330–7, 345, 346–9, 407–8 and liberalism, 338–45, 414 and redistribution, 340–1, 345–6 India, 40, 67, 259, 359 Inquisition, 141, 155, 362, 363 interest groups, 251–3, 255–6, 269, 286 Iran, 24, 25, 73, 125, 135, 349, 357, 358–9, 412 Iraq, 16–7, 39, 359–60, 334, 378, 402, 405, 414 Islam and afterlife, 61, 350 and democracy, 133, 355, 372–3, 398–9, 416 Five Pillars, 124–5 and liberalism, 348–9, 355, 416 militancy of, 119–20, 121–3, 369, 382 miracles, 120–1 origin, 116–8 and population growth, 405, 413–4 and religious toleration, 40, 359–60, 362–3 and science, 129–31 Shari’a, 10, 124–5, 126 Shiites and Sunnis, 125, 334, 359–60, 405 and slavery, 293, 386 spread of, 118–20, 369

and traditionalism, 133–5 women under, 349–50, 388–90 Israel, 334, 370–2, 412, 414 Italy, 223–4, 227, 231, 232, 254, 266, 355–6 Jackson, Andrew, 376 Japan, 4, 308, 394–5 Jefferson, Thomas, 25, 171, 177, 239, 293, 415, 417 Jewish state achievements, 86–7, 356 origin, 85 religion, 85–6, 387 Jews, 40–1, 103, 123–4, 132, 338–9, 358, 364, 392, 412, 416–7, see also anti-Semitism Joseph II, Austrian Emperor, 182–3 Judaism, 67–8, 100, 125, 417 Jyllands-Posten, 365 Kant, Immanual, 70, 171, 176–7, 191–2 Kennedy, John F., 316, 319 Kenya, 12–3, 264 Kepler, Johannes, 130, 143, 144, 145–6, 158, 159 Khomeini, Grand Ayatollah, 355, 358–9, 416 Klagges, Dietrich, 222 Koch, Erich, 222 Koran, 61, 73, 116, 118–20, 124, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 229, 231, 290, 358, 373, 386, 388, 392, 416 Ku Klux Klan, 377 Kuwait, 389 Kyrgyzstan, 253–4 Laden, Osama bin, 135 laicit´e, 414 La Mettrie, Julien Offray de, 172, 173, 174 language conflicts, 287–9, 336 Lawrence, D. H., 283–4 Latin America, 2, 17, 395–6, 404 learning, 43–4, 46–9, 72 Lebanon, 17, 371, 414 Leibniz, Gottfried, 179, 191, 193 liberal democracy, seedemocracy, liberal Liberal Parties in Austria, 212 in Belgium, 210 in Germany, 211–2 in Great Britain, 208 in the Netherlands, 210–1

Subject Index liberalism and Enlightenment, 177–8 and immigration, 338–45, 413–4 in nineteenth century, 203–13, 217, 233 and optimism, 107 and religion, 202–3, 349–51, 412–7 and rights, 281–5, 367 threats to, 17–9, 243, 411–4 literacy and democracy, 257–65, 406 in eighteenth century, 177 functional, 265–6 statistics on, 258, 262, 265, 389 Lithuania, 40–1 Locke, John happiness, 174–5 impact of, 158, 164, 175, 189, 190 and knowledge, 175 liberalism, majority rule, 163–4 materialism, 171–2 and monarchy, 162, 181 and natural rights, 304 in the Netherlands, 156 original sin, 174 social contract, 162–4, 181, 239, 279, 297, 314 loyalty to group, 39–42 Lueger, Karl, 213 Luther, Martin, 140–1 Machiavelli, 88 Madison, James, 25, 41, 102, 106, 168, 205, 206, 269, 376 majority rule conditions favoring use of, 246–50, 254–6 conditions opposing use of, 251–7 and redistribution, 249 tyranny of majority, 281, 282–4, 358, 360, 400 Mandeville, Bernard, 184 market failures, 18, 34, 240–3 Martinez, Julia, 289–90 Marx, Karl, 199, 229, 230 Mason, George, 204, 205, 376 materialism, 171–2 Mercier, Louis-Seˆ´bastien, 183 Mill, John Stuart, 207, 278–9, 367 mimetic culture, 44, 53 modernism, see progressivism

447

Mohammed, 68, 74, 116–24, 293, 326, 369, 382, see also Islam Montaigne, Michel de, 140, 143 Montesquieu. Baron de, 179, 190, 191 morality, seereligion and morality Mormonism, 68, 229, 276 Moses, 85, 117, 123, 125 Mussolini, Benito, 224, 225, 227 mythic culture, 44–6, 70–1, 86, 108 Napoleon, 198, 209, 401 nationalism in Europe, 216–7, 384 natural rights critique, 295–9 and immigration, 340–1 justification, 294–5 life as, 298–9 as trumps of constitutional rights, 300–1 Nazism and anti-Semitism, 212, 218–9, 221–2 and Catholic Church, 223–8 and Christianity, 219–23, 231–3 and Enlightenment, 24 program of, 218–9 Netherlands, the and EU constitution, 21, 404 heterogeneity within, 366 nineteenth century, 209–11, 236 Republic, see Dutch Republic trust in politicians, 4 Newton, Isaac, 130, 145, 161–2, 169, 171 Nigeria, 9–13, 25, 261, 263, 308–9, 374, 404–5 Norway, 394 Obama, Barack, 323, 378, 409 Ottoman Empire, 123, 382, 388 Pakistan, 40, 261, 308–9, 345–6, 359, 380 Palin, Sarah, 376–7, 378 Pericles, 93, 100, 105, 107, 114, 268, 269 Peru, 260, 264 Petrarch, 137, 138 Pestalozzi, Heinrich, 176 PISA tests, 409 Plato, 17, 96, 98, 99, 100, 104, 107, 108, 144 Poland, 266

448

Subject Index

political parties German Social Democratic Party, 214 Liberal, 208, 210–2 in United States, 215 Popes Benedict XVI, 122 Gregory XVI, 199, 202 infallibility of, 203 Innocence X, 383 John Paul II, 203 Paul V, 146 Paul VI, 380, 387 Pius II, 152 Pius IX, 202–3, 223, 224 Pius X, 199, 202, 223 Pius XI, 223–4, 225–6, 227 Pius XII, 224, 226–8 Urban II, 382 population growth Africa, 306–7, 309, 407 development, 10, 12, 405–6 and religion, 307, 388–90, 405 poverty, world and cosmopolitan rights, 305–6 and immigration, 345–6 and population growth, 306–10, 405–6 Priestly, Joseph, 175 Prince v. Massachusetts, 327 prisoners’ dilemma, 33–4 progress cultural, 47–50 and Enlightenment, 12, 191–3 and liberalism, scientific, 49, 71–3, 145–7, 160 progressivism, 12, 24, 49–50, 68–72, 107, 133–5, 158, 191–3, 290, 314–5, 375–9 Prohibition, 73, 377 Protestantism and birth control, 367, 387, 405 and Catholicism, 7, 210 and democracy, 199 and Descartes, 160 discrimination of, 202 and redistribution, 392 and second coming, 369 and thrift and trust, 390–2 and war, 383–4, see alsoevangelicals and Reformation psychology behavioral, 31–5, 43–4, 65

cognitive, 35 evolutionary, 35–43 Ptolemy, 130, 144 public goods, 10, 34, 82, 129, 163, 240–1, 255, 256, 286, 332 Pufendorf, Samuel, 179 Putin, Vladimir, 2–3, 23, 315 Pythagoras, 98, 144, 160, 161 Qatar, 389 racial differences, 333–4, 337, 407–8 Randolph, Edmund, 204 rationalism, 160–1, 169 Reagan, Ronald and Nancy, 377 reason Ancient Greeks, 95–9, 106–7, 114–5 Enlightenment, 159, 169, 191–3, 197, 400–1, 417 evolution of, 44–7 and Locke, 162 in nineteenth century, 215 and psychology, 26 redistribution altruistic, 244 as entitlement, 286–7, 301–2 and immigration, 340–1, 345–6 as insurance, 244 international, 304–6 and heterogeneity, 245–6, 342 and religious beliefs, 392 as taking, 244–5 Reformation, 7, 140–2, 155, 176 religion and afterlife, 57, 61, 63, 67–8, 100, 220, 390 and AIDS, 320, 364, 373–4, 377, 380–1, 387 in Ancient Greece, 97, 99–100 and cannibalism, 57 capital punishment, 384–5 and causality, 46, 52–6, 62–3, 415 and citizenship, 379–80 and death, 54–5 and democracy, 24, 27, 198–201, 232, 320–1, 356–61, 368–76, 397–9, 407 and dualism, 54–5, 59, 61, 171, 304 in Enlightenment, 169–73, 176–7 exchange relationships in, 56–8, 63 feminism, 325, 386–90 and homosexuality, 336

Subject Index and identity, 40, 74–5, 291–2, 323–4, 326–9 and liberalism, 202–3, 349–51, 367, 415–7 local, 58–60, 63–6 medieval, 139 and morality, 55–6, 233, 322, 390–6 in nineteenth century, 197–8 and population growth, 307, 388–90, 405 in Renaissance, 139–42 revelations in, 116–7 rituals in, 57–8, 59–61, 63, 117 sacrifices in, 57 and science, 26, 72–4, 76, 157–8, 368–70 and slavery, 385–6 and traditionalism, 24, 26, 50, 68–73, 75–6, 133–5 universal, 60–8 and violence, 334–5, 359–61, 364–6 and war, 381–4 Renaissance Carolingian, 136 education, 139–40 humanism, 137–40, 157 Italian, 136–7, 148–54 politics, 147–57 religion, 140–2, 157–8 science, 142–7, 157–8 rent seeking, 11, 13, 102, 106, 254 rhetoric, 96, 108, 139–40 rights, seeconstitutional, cosmopolitan, group, and natural rights Rights of Man, 185–8, 268 Rome, Ancient Christianity, 111–5 citizenship, 110, 154, 296 fall of, 112–4 politics, 108–10 religion, paganism, 111 Rosenberg, Alfred, 219–20, 221, 222, 228, 230 Rousseau, Jean Jacques citizenship, 167 and Enlightenment, 164, 183, 193, 176 and French Revolution, 165, 187 general will, 166–8, 187–8, 252 majority rule, 167 in the Netherlands, 156 social contract, 164–8, 239 Rumsfeld, Donald, 402–3 Russia, 13–4, 412, see also Putin, Vladimir

449

Sanches, Franciso, 140 Saudi Arabia, 73, 231, 363, 386 Scalia, Antonin, 413 Schemm, Hans, 197, 222 scholasticism, 139 Sch¨onerer, Georg Ritter von, 213 scientific method, 47–9, 96–9, 136, 169 Scientific Revolution, 18, 70, 145–6, 159–62 Scopes trial, 375, 376 Scorsese, Martin, 364 separation of church and state, 86, 190, 198, 204, 321–3, 398, 410 Shintoism, 395 Siiddhartha, 67, 68, 76 Singapore, 2, 3, 263 slavery, 14, 101, 104, 108, 178, 190, 279, 293, 361, 385–6, 390 Smith, Adam, 184, 191, 196 Smith, Joseph, Jr., 68, 117 social contract Becarria, 180 cooperation as, 80 Grotius, 162, 314 Hobbes, 85, 162, 163, 181, 314 Kant, 176–7, 192 Locke, 85, 162–4, 181, 314 Rawls, 279–80 Rousseau, 164–8 Socialism, 213–5, 217 Socialist parties, 213–5 Socrates, 93, 98, 100, 108, 114, 135 Solon, 101 South Africa, 325–6 Spain, 155, 287, 324–5, 336, 378, 380, 407 Spinoza, Baruch, 158, 171 state of nature, 162–6, 176, 295–8 suffrage and democracy, 14, 204, 206–13, 236, 266–7, 406 in Dutch Republic, 156 in Europe, 204, 206–13 in Italian city-states, 149–50 and liberalism, 210–3, 217, 234 in United States, 206 in Venice, 152–4, 208, 268, 269 women’s, 178, 207, 386 Sumer achievements, 82–4 origin, 81–2 religion, 83, 132, 381 Sweden, 4, 25, 134, 211, 392, 394

450

Subject Index

Switzerland, 6–7, 9–12, 16, 19, 25, 94, 165, 259, 265, 266–7, 268, 270, 287, 330, 405, 407 Taiwan, 133, 263, 409 terrorism, 285, 297–8, 304, 407, 413 Thales, 97, 99 theoretic culture, 46–7, 71, 84, 91, 96, 108 Thomas, Justice Clarence, 300 Thomasius, Christian, 179 traditionalism in Ancient Greece, 100, 114 and Burke, 193–5 characteristics, 12, 49–50, 158, 290–1 in China, 91–2 and democracy, 235–6 and religion, 50, 68–73, 75–6, 133–5, 293–4, 314–5, 374–9 and science, 90 tribal societies characteristics, 68–70, 79–81 and democracy, 13 inheritance from, 37–43 religion in, 52–60, 63 Turkey, 134–5, 283, 395, 398, 412 ultimatum game, 42 unanimity rule, 166, 244, 246, 272, 274, 276–7, 279–80, 311–3 United States and capital punishment, 299 citizenship in, 153, 409–11 and crime, 393–5 democracy in, 3, 19, 25, 204, 215–6, 239, 252–3, 266, 408–11 education in, 409–10 foreign policy, 370–2 and immigration, 330–2, 337, 345, 346–8, 407–9 and race, 333–4, 337, 408–9 religion in, 323–4, 363–4, 375–6, 377, 392–4, 398 revolution, 188–91 suffrage in, 206

Supreme Court, 291–2, 300, 315, 323–4, 363, 364, 376, 413 traditionalism in, 375–8 trust in politicians, 3–4 United States Congress and earmarks, 252 support for, 4, 253, 254–5, 319 United States Constitution Bill of Rights, 190, 314 checks and balances, 25 and Enlightenment, 25, 190, 196, 314, 361 features, 190, 205–6 First Amendment, 280, 282, 323–4, 361, 363, 410 Fifth Amendment, 275 Locke’s influence, 164 Ninth Amendment, 367 Second Amendment, 394 separation of powers, 190 and slavery, 361 utilitarianism, 174, 226, 278–9, 294, 298, 385 Van Buren, Martin, 215 Van Gogh, Theo, 350, 364–5, 412 Venezuela, see Chavez, Hugo Venice Republic achievements, 153–4 citizenship, 152–4, 208, 268, 269 politics, 150–4 religion, 152 Vinci, Leonardo da, 144 Voltaire, 156, 161, 164–5, 171, 173, 183 voodooism, 66, 260 voting rule choice, 246, 271–4 voting-with-the-feet, 25, 344 Washington, George, 14 William of Conches, 142–3 Wisconsin v. Yoder, 291–2, 323–4, 326–9 Wolff, Christian, 179 Zimbabwe, 260