If Oscar Wilde is right--that you can't reason a man out of a position he has not reasoned himself into--it's not likely that the liberals of fear will be persuaded anytime soon to give up their faith. (Indeed, proving that nothing succeeds like failure, Peter Beinart, editor of The New Republic, has taken the Democrats' defeat last November as the signal for a renewed commitment to the liberalism of fear.) Responding to political forces beyond their control, they won't cede their beliefs until a vigorous movement marches past them. The question for the rest of us is: What should that movement stand for?

For some on the left, liberalism is a bankrupt project, hopelessly compromised by its alliance with capital and indulgence of empire. These critics see liberalism as a weak tea--too suspicious of social movements, too soft on capitalism. They long for a stronger brew: if not Marxism, then some notion of radical democracy.

No dispassionate observer of American liberalism would dispute these charges, and some liberals happily plead guilty to them. But what critics and defenders of liberalism overlook is how often liberalism has inspired the most radical of transformations. The war against slavery, the fight for industrial democracy, the struggle for women's rights, civil rights and sexual freedom--each of these battles was waged in the name of liberty and equality, twin pillars of the liberal ideal.

Hoping to emancipate men and women from all manner of domination, America's greatest social movements have sought to extend liberalism's promise to every sphere of social and political life: the family, the workplace, sexuality and so on. Liberalism's earliest armies marched against the personal--and physically coercive--rule of kings and lords. Its later militants have made war on the equally personal and physical rule of husbands and fathers, slave owners and overseers, bosses and supervisors. That idea--of freedom from external control, of personal volition, of saying no to those who rule and ruin us--is as radical today as it was in the time of John Locke.

Even America's most left-wing voices have found in liberalism a useful vocabulary to advance their claims. Big Bill Haywood defended the general strike as a potent form of electoral democracy: It "prevents the capitalists from disfranchising the worker, it gives the vote to women, it re-enfranchises the black man and places the ballot in the hands of every boy and girl employed in a shop." Malcolm X did not favor the bullet over the ballot; he insisted that "it's got to be the ballot or the bullet," that America had better live up to its ideals lest it face a more violent uprising. Stokely Carmichael defined black power as "the coming-together of black people to elect representatives and to force those representatives to speak to their needs," which is a fairly good gloss on liberal pluralism. And we would do well to recall that the Black Panther Party repeatedly invoked the Constitution in its ten-point platform. More recently, Katha Pollitt has argued in these pages that if America took seriously the liberal commitment to equal opportunity, everyone would have "safe housing...healthy diets, doctors, fresh air...well-stocked libraries open all week"--Sweden itself.

There is perhaps no better measure of how radical and disruptive liberalism truly is than the ferocity of American elites' resistance to it. It took more than a half-million lives to eliminate slavery. American workers suffered more strike-related violence than workers in Western Europe--just to get an eight-hour day, freedom of association and a weekend. And imagine how many feet would have to march--and heads would have to roll--to secure the equal opportunity Pollitt envisions.

• « Previous
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• Next »

• Get The Nation at home (and online!) for 75 cents a week!
• If you like this article, consider making a donation to The Nation.