Philosophy of the Modern Era

Philosophical Liberalism

The emergence of liberalism in politics and philosophy provides material for examining a very broad and significant question, namely, the influence of political and social circumstances on exceptional and original thinkers, and conversely, the impact these individuals had on subsequent political and social developments.

One must beware of two opposite, yet equally common errors. On the one hand, those who are more familiar with books than with life tend to overestimate the influence of philosophers. When they observe a political party claiming to be guided by the teachings of a certain thinker, they assume that the party’s actions are indeed dictated by these teachings. Yet, often, the philosopher's role in this process is illusory, for the party would act similarly regardless of their endorsement. Until recently, most writers exaggerated the influence of their predecessors in this direction. On the other hand, the reaction against this old error has produced a new one, wherein theorists are viewed as almost passive products of circumstances, barely exerting any influence on the course of events. According to this view, ideas are mere froth on the surface of deeper currents, which are driven by material and technical causes; social changes are no more the result of thinking than the flow of a river is caused by the bubbles that show an observer its direction. For my part, I believe the truth lies between these two extremes. There exists, as everywhere, an interaction between ideas and practical life; asking which is the cause and which is the effect is as futile as resolving the age-old question of whether the chicken or the egg came first. Rather than wasting time on an abstract consideration of this issue, I will engage in a historical analysis of one important aspect of this broader question: the development of liberalism and its offshoots from the late 17th century to the present day.

Early liberalism was born in England and the Netherlands, and it possessed certain distinct characteristics. It championed religious tolerance, was Protestant by nature but more inclined to toleration than fanaticism, and regarded religious wars as foolish. It respected commerce and industry, favoring the rising middle class over monarchy and aristocracy; it held great reverence for property, especially when accumulated through the labor of its owner. The principle of hereditary power, while not entirely rejected, was more restricted than ever before; in particular, the divine right of kings was denied, and the view was proclaimed that every community of people had the right, at least initially, to establish whatever form of government it desired. Implicitly, early liberalism tended towards democracy, though tempered by the rights of property. There was a belief, initially unspoken, that all people are born equal and that their subsequent inequality is a product of circumstance. This belief placed particular importance on education as a counter to inherited traits. Moreover, there was some prejudice against government, for government was almost everywhere in the hands of kings or aristocrats who rarely understood or respected the needs of merchants. This prejudice, however, was softened by the hope that these needs would soon be recognized and appropriately honored.

Early liberalism was optimistic, energetic, and philosophical because it represented growing forces that seemed destined to achieve victories without much difficulty and to bring great benefits to humanity through their triumph. Liberalism opposed all that was medieval in both politics and philosophy, for medieval theories had been used to sanction the power of church and king, justify persecution, and impede the flowering of science. Yet it was equally hostile to the contemporary fanaticism of the Calvinists and Anabaptists. It sought to end political and theological disputes, thereby freeing energy for the inspiring pursuits of commerce and science, such as the founding of the East India Company and the Bank of England, the development of the theory of gravitation, and the discovery of the circulation of blood. Throughout the Western world, fanaticism gave way to enlightenment, the fear of Spanish power diminished, the prosperity of all classes increased, and the highest hopes were supported by the soundest judgments. For a century, nothing occurred to dim these hopes, until, at last, they culminated in the French Revolution, which led directly to Napoleon, and thence to the Holy Alliance. After these events, liberalism had to catch its breath, as it were, before the optimism of the 19th century could be revived.

Before delving into any details, it is necessary to consider the general structure of the liberal movement from the 17th to the 19th century. This structure, initially simple, gradually became more complex. The distinguishing feature of the entire liberal movement, broadly understood, is individualism; yet this term, without further definition, remains unclear. Greek philosophers up to Aristotle, including Aristotle himself, were not individualists in the sense in which I wish to use the term. They saw man essentially as a member of society. Plato’s Republic, for instance, defined a good society, not a good individual. But with the loss of political freedom beginning with Alexander the Great, individualism developed, represented by the Cynics and Stoics. According to Stoic philosophy, a person can live well under any social conditions. This was also the view of Christianity, especially before it gained control over the state. In the Middle Ages, while mystics maintained the original individualistic tendencies of Christian ethics, the dominant synthesis of dogma, law, and custom subordinated both theoretical convictions and practical morality to the control of such a social institution as the Catholic Church: what was true and what was good were not determined by individual thought, but by the collective wisdom of church councils.

The first significant breach in this system was made by Protestantism, which asserted that Ecumenical Councils could err. Thus, the definition of truth began to be viewed not as a matter of social consensus, but as an individual initiative. As different individuals arrived at various conclusions, conflict ensued, and theological questions were now settled not in the assemblies of bishops, but on the battlefield. Yet, since neither side could obliterate the other, it ultimately became clear that a method must be found to reconcile intellectual and ethical individualism with the established order of social life. This was one of the central issues that early liberalism sought to resolve.

Meanwhile, individualism permeated philosophy. Descartes' foundational premise, “I think, therefore I am,” established the basis of knowledge as unique to each person, for each individual’s starting point was their own existence, rather than the existence of other individuals or the community of individuals. His emphasis on the reliability of clear and distinct ideas moves in the same direction, for it is through introspective examination of our thoughts that we ascertain whether our ideas are indeed clear and distinct. Most philosophers following Descartes shared this intellectually individualistic perspective to varying degrees.

However, there are different forms of this general principle, each bearing diverse practical consequences. The views of the typical scientific investigator may possess the least degree of individualism. When such an investigator formulates a new theory, they do so solely because it seems right to them; they do not bow to authority, for otherwise, they would adhere to the theories of their predecessors. At the same time, they appeal to commonly accepted criteria of truth and hope to persuade others not through the power of their authority but through arguments that are compelling to individuals. In science, any confrontation between the individual and society is, in essence, transitory, as scientists generally uphold the same intellectual standards, leading discussions and inquiries to typically end in agreement. However, this perspective is modern; during Galileo’s time, the authority of Aristotle and the Church was still regarded as at least as persuasive as the testimony of the senses. This demonstrates that while the element of individualism may not be definitive, it nevertheless holds substantial significance in the scientific method.

Early liberalism was individualistic in intellectual and economic matters, yet it was not emotionally or ethically inclined toward self-assertion. This form of liberalism dominated in England during the 18th century; it was shared by the framers of the American Constitution and the French encyclopedists. During the French Revolution, liberalism was represented by more moderate parties, including the Girondists, but with their removal, it vanished from French politics for an entire generation. In England, with the emergence of the Benthamites and the Manchester School, it regained influence after the Napoleonic Wars. Its greatest development occurred in America, where, free from the shackles of feudalism and state church, it prevailed from 1776 to the present day, or at least until 1933.

A new direction, gradually evolving into the antithesis of liberalism, began with Rousseau and reached maturity in the romantic movement and the principles of nationalism. In this direction, individualism seized not only the intellectual realm but also the realm of passions, revealing the anarchistic aspects of individualism. The cult of the hero, established by Carlyle and Nietzsche, is emblematic of this philosophy. This cult amalgamated various elements: a disdain for early industrialism and a hatred for the horrors it engendered, as well as a revulsion towards its cruelties. It also encompassed a longing for the Middle Ages, which were idealized out of contempt for the modern world. There was an attempt to unite the defense of the dwindling privileges of the Church and the aristocracy with the protection of workers against the tyranny of industrialists. Furthermore, it featured a passionate assertion of the right to rebel in the name of nationalism and a proclamation of the grandeur of war in defense of “freedom.” Byron was the poet of this movement; Fichte, Carlyle, and Nietzsche were its philosophers.

However, since not all of us can become heroic leaders and not all can dominate, this philosophy, like all other forms of anarchism, inevitably leads, when acted upon, to the despotic rule of the most fortunate “hero.” And once their tyranny is established, they will suppress in others the ethic of self-assertion that enabled their ascent to power. Thus, this entire theory of life refutes itself in the sense that its practical application leads to something entirely different: an absolute state, wherein individuals are ruthlessly suppressed.

There exists yet another philosophy that primarily represents a branch of liberalism, namely the philosophy of Marx. I shall consider it later, but for now, it should simply be kept in mind.

The first comprehensive exposition of the philosophy of liberalism can be found in Locke— the most influential, though by no means the most profound, of the new philosophers. In England, his views harmonized so completely with those of the educated majority that it is difficult to trace their influence, except in theoretical philosophy; on the other hand, in France, where they practically led to opposition against the existing regime and the dominance of Cartesianism in theory, they undoubtedly had a significant impact on shaping events. This exemplifies a general law: a philosophy developed in a politically and economically advanced country, which in its homeland is little more than an elucidation and systematization of prevailing opinions, can, elsewhere, foster a revolutionary atmosphere and indeed ultimately lead to revolution. The principles guiding the politics of advanced nations became known in less advanced countries primarily through theorists. In advanced countries, practice inspires theory; in others, theory inspires practice. This distinction is one reason why transplanted ideas rarely prove as fruitful as they were on their native soil.

Before embarking on an examination of Locke's philosophy, let us consider some distinctive features of England's development during the seventeenth century that influenced Locke's views.

The conflict between the king and Parliament, which culminated in the Civil War, instilled in the English a lasting inclination towards compromise and moderation, as well as a profound fear of pushing any theory to its logical conclusion. The principles for which the Long Parliament fought initially garnered widespread support. These principles aimed to abolish the king's right to impose trade monopolies and to compel him to acknowledge Parliament's exclusive right to levy taxes. They proclaimed freedom of opinion and action within the framework of the Anglican Church. This demand was articulated by Archbishop Laud. According to these principles, Parliament was to convene at established intervals rather than being summoned only in rare instances when the king deemed his cooperation necessary. They opposed arbitrary arrests and the sycophantic compliance of judges with the king's whims. Yet, many who were willing to advocate for these causes were not prepared to wage war against the king, viewing such an act as treason and apostasy. Once the war broke out, the forces were nearly evenly distributed.

The political events from the onset of the Civil War until Cromwell's assumption of the Lord Protectorate unfolded in a manner that has since become familiar but was unprecedented at the time. The parliamentary party was divided into two factions: the Presbyterians and the Independents. The Presbyterians sought to preserve the state church while abolishing the episcopal institution; the Independents agreed with them on the matter of bishops but believed that each congregation should be free to choose its own faith without interference from any central spiritual authority. Presbyterians predominantly hailed from the upper echelons of society, while their political views were more moderate. They hoped to reach an agreement with the king once his defeat rendered him more pliable. However, their policy proved impractical due to two circumstances: first, the king displayed profound obstinacy regarding the bishops; second, defeating the king proved a formidable task, achieved only through Cromwell's newly formed army, composed of Independents. Consequently, when military resistance against the king was vanquished and he could not be persuaded to negotiate, the Presbyterians' dominance within Parliament's armies diminished. The defense of democracy led to the concentration of power in the hands of a minority, which wielded it with utter disregard for democracy and parliamentary governance. When Charles I attempted to arrest five members of Parliament, it incited widespread protest, and his failure rendered him a figure of ridicule. Cromwell, however, encountered no such difficulties. By exploiting the Pride Purge, he expelled around one hundred Presbyterian members of Parliament, temporarily obtaining a majority that obsequiously bowed to him. Ultimately, when he decided to dissolve the entire Parliament, "not a dog barked," as war had rendered military power paramount and fostered contempt for constitutional forms. Throughout Cromwell's subsequent rule, the government of England was a military dictatorship, increasingly despised by the growing majority of the nation, yet from which they could not liberate themselves, as only Cromwell's supporters were armed.

Charles II, after a lengthy period of hiding in the woods and living as an exile in Holland, resolved upon his Restoration not to undertake such journeys again. This experience instilled in him a measure of moderation. He declared that no power could levy taxes without the sanction of Parliament. He upheld the Habeas Corpus Act, which stripped the crown of the right to make arbitrary arrests. Occasionally, by utilizing subsidies from Louis XIV, he expressed disdain for Parliament's financial authority, but for the most part, he functioned as a constitutional monarch. Most of the restrictions on royal power first demanded by the opponents of Charles I were acknowledged during the Restoration, and Charles II treated them with due respect, understanding that subjects could inflict considerable inconveniences upon their kings.

James II, in contrast to his brother, was entirely devoid of his refinement and cunning. His fanatical Catholicism united supporters of the Anglican Church and nonconformists against him, despite his attempts to reconcile with the latter through proclamations of religious tolerance in defiance of Parliament. His foreign policy further exacerbated his position. The Stuarts, seeking to evade taxation necessary in wartime—taxes that would render them dependent on Parliament—pursued a policy of obsequiousness first towards Spain and then towards France. The growing power of France engendered persistent hostility among the English towards the leading continental power, while the revocation of the Edict of Nantes incited sharp animosity among Protestants towards Louis XIV. Ultimately, nearly everyone in England sought to rid themselves of James II, but nearly everyone also wished to avoid a return to the days of civil war and Cromwell's dictatorship. As no constitutional means existed to remove James II, a revolution was inevitable, yet it had to conclude swiftly to prevent any opportunity for the activities of subversive elements. It was essential to secure the rights of Parliament once and for all. The king must depart, yet the monarchy should be preserved; however, it ought not to be a monarchy by divine right, but one dependent upon legislative bodies and Parliament. Through the united efforts of the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie, all this was achieved rapidly without a single shot being fired. Compromise and moderation triumphed after all forms of intransigence had been tested and failed.

The new king, being Dutch by birth, brought with him the commercial and theological wisdom characteristic of his country. The Bank of England was established; the national debt was placed in trustworthy hands, and arbitrary refusals to pay debts at the whim of the monarch became impossible. The Act of Toleration, while leaving Catholics and nonconformists vulnerable to various injustices, brought an end to their direct persecution. Foreign policy became resolutely anti-French and remained so, with short interruptions, until the defeat of Napoleon.