Patrick J. Deneen
Why Liberalism Failed
New Haven, Ct./New York: Yale University Press, 2018
Patrick Deneen, a Professor of Political Science at the University of Notre Dame, wrote the present study in 2016, completing it shortly before Donald Trump’s election. In February 2019, a paperbound edition with a few revisions and a new Preface was published.
Why Liberalism Failed is a study comparing the basic assumptions of Lockean liberalism with its historical results as revealed in our own time.
Now, as the author points out, not everything we think of as liberalism originated in early modern times:
Many of the institutional forms of government that we today associate with liberalism were at least initially conceived and developed over long centuries preceding the modern age, including constitutionalism, separation of powers, separate spheres of church and state, rights and protections against arbitrary rule, federalism, rule of law, and limited government. Protection of rights of individuals and the belief in inviolable human dignity, if not always consistently recognized and practiced, were nevertheless philosophical achievements of premodern medieval Europe. Some scholars regard liberalism simply as the natural development, and indeed the culmination, of protoliberal thinking and this long period of development, and not as any sort of radical break from premodernity. (23)
However, there was certainly a significant conceptual break with classical ethico-political thought in the seventeenth century. Previous to this break, the tradition of thought stemming from Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and their Christian heirs held liberty to be
the condition of self-governance, whether achieved by the individual or by a political community. Because self-rule was achieved only with difficulty – requiring an extensive habituation in virtue, particularly self-command and self-discipline over base but insistent appetites – the achievement of liberty required constraints upon individual choice. This limitation was achieved not primarily through promulgated law – though law had its place – but through extensive social norms in the form of custom. (xiii)
Classical and Christian ethical thought centered on “the duties of one’s station,” that “station” being the specific manner in which each person was embedded (usually from birth) in the larger social formations of family, economic class, and local community, each with its own preexisting customs and traditions.
This station in society was integral to one’s personal identity; one could no more exist outside that context than a tree could live without soil or light. Since desire is infinitely expansible, but the world is finite and must be shared with others, the desires of the individual must be limited by considerations of the common good. Hence, the duty to govern one’s appetites. Law stepped in only to deal with cases where self-control and habituation had failed.
The modern break from this tradition had a number of dimensions, but Deneen emphasizes three: first, the rejection of self-control through reason and habituation in favor of a paradigm in which the “pride, selfishness, greed and the quest for glory” of different groups within a society are harnessed to check the same passions in other groups (Machiavelli); second, traditional social, religious, economic, and familial structures, formerly “viewed as essential supports for a training in virtue, and hence preconditions for liberty,” came to be reinterpreted as sources of oppression, arbitrariness, and conflict from which individuals were to be liberated through rationally-based positive law (Descartes and Hobbes); and third, the understanding of nature as a cosmos of which man is a part was rejected in favor of a fundamental opposition between man and nature, with the latter serving as raw materials for human activity for “the easing of man’s estate” and the increase of his power (Bacon).
The protoliberal philosopher Thomas Hobbes even denied that rational self-control was possible: “Thoughts, are to the Desires, as Scouts, and Spies, to range abroad, and find the way to the things Desired.” Consistent with this understanding of man, Hobbes denied that liberty could meaningfully be understood as anything more than an absence of interference with desire: “if a man should talk to me of a free will, or any free, but free from being hindered by opposition, I should not say he were in an error, but that his words were without meaning, that is to say, absurd.” As Deneen comments: “liberalism in many cases attained its ends by redefining shared words and concepts and, through that redefinition, colonizing existing institutions with fundamentally different anthropological assumptions.”
Of course, Hobbes and his liberal successors understood that desires must be checked for society to function. But they made a conscious choice in favor of external constraints, holding that “the only limitation on liberty should be duly enacted laws consistent with maintaining order of otherwise unfettered individuals” (xiii). Freedom existed wherever the law was silent, and except as limited by law, desire might be satisfied without limit. Wealth, for example, could be safely maximized: “The public stock cannot be too great for the public use,” Hobbes wrote.
In a sense, though Deneen does not state this, the modern ethico-political conceptions are more primitive and probably older than those of classical thought. Even today the average child would have no difficulty grasping the concept of freedom as the absence of interference, or that of thought as a tool of desire. Understanding the concept of self-mastery requires greater maturity, and probably came along later in history, just as it does in the life of the average person. Pace Hobbes, however, it is both meaningful and observable: Anyone who has known a person unable to keep a credit card without getting himself deeply into debt can see that the classical concept of bondage to desire – and its corresponding ideal of liberty as self-mastery – is no absurdity. In modern psychology, conscientiousness is one of the five major dimensions of personality. Liberalism is based on an anthropological falsehood.
It has certainly revolutionized the world and produced at least some good effects, however. The most full-throated celebration of liberalism is known as the “Whig interpretation of history” that, in Deneen’s words, goes something like this:
The advent of liberalism marks the end of a benighted age, the liberation of humanity from darkness, the overcoming of oppression and arbitrary inequality, the descent of monarchy and aristocracy, the advance of prosperity and modern technology, and the advent of an age of nearly unbroken progress. Liberalism is credited with the cessation of religious war, the opening of an age of tolerance and equality, the expanding spheres of personal opportunity that today culminate in globalization and the ongoing victories over sexism, racism, colonialism, heteronormativity and a host of other prejudices. (27-28)
Of course, the notion that the distinction between men and women is an arbitrary prejudice from which the state must liberate us is a good clue that liberalism has turned into a Frankenstein’s monster which is now out to devour its creator.
As Deneen sees it, liberalism has quietly remade the world in its own image, converting human beings into monadic individual wills impatient of restraint, accepting no duties they have not themselves chosen, and looking to the state to “liberate” them from the claims of their fellow man. Referring to Karl Polanyi’s The Great Transformation (1944), he writes:
The individual as a disembodied, self-interested economic actor didn’t exist in any actual state of nature but rather was the creation of an elaborate intervention by the incipient state in early modernity. Economic arrangements were separated from particular cultural and religious contexts in which those arrangements were understood to serve moral ends [such as] the sustenance of community order and the flourishing of families within that order. The replacement of this economy required a deliberate and often violent reshaping… most often by elite economic and state actors disrupting traditional practices. The “individuation” or people required people’s acceptance that their labor and its products were commodities subject to price mechanisms, a transformative way of considering people and nature alike in newly utilitarian and individualistic terms. This process was repeated countless times in the history of modern political economy: in efforts to eradicate the medieval guilds, in the enclosure controversy, in state suppression of “Luddites,” in state support for owners over organized labor, and in government efforts to empty the nation’s farmlands via mechanized, industrial farming. (51-52)
This emphasis on the ways both state power and market forces have been harnessed by liberalism constitutes one of the great merits of Deneen’s book. As he observes, most of today’s political debate opposes a “pro-market Right” to a “pro-state Left;” i.e., it occurs within liberalism, so that whichever side wins, the liberal project is advanced.
Liberalism is fundamentally hostile to culture which, properly speaking, consists in precisely the traditional social, religious, economic, and familial structures from which the individual is to be liberated. Culture is a “set of generational customs, practices and rituals that are grounded in local and particular settings” (64). It at once looks past the present generation and binds people to a social and geographical place. Liberalism abstracts from both time and place, fostering “a new experience of time as a pastless present in which the future is a foreign land; and . . . [rendering] place fungible and bereft of definitional meaning” (66).
A healthy culture is akin to healthy agriculture . . . that takes into account local conditions intends to maintain fecundity over generation, and so must work with the facts of given nature, not approach nature as an obstacle to the attainment of one’s unbounded appetites. Modern industrialized agriculture works on the liberal model that apparent natural limits are to be overcome through short-term solutions whose consequences will be left for future generations. (70)
Liberalism makes humanity into mayflies, and unsurprisingly, its culmination has led each generation to accumulate scandalous levels of debt to be left for its children, while rapacious exploitation of resources continues in the progressive belief that future generations will devise a way to deal with the depletions. (74)
Deneen mentions that there were once laws “forbidding banks to open branches in communities outside where they were based, premised on a belief that the granting and acceptance of debt rested on trust and local knowledge.” He quotes a banker’s 1928 characterization of the business he was in: “the community as a whole demands of the banker that he shall be an honest observer of conditions around him, that he shall make constant and careful study of those conditions, financial, economic, social and political, and that he shall have a wide vision over them all.” The economic crash of 2008 was in part the result of the elimination of such cultural norms “that existed to regulate and govern the granting and procuring of mortgages” (86). The response to the disaster, predictably, was a call for more governmental regulation, not any renewed reliance on local knowledge and responsibility. Most of us have simply lost any ability to think outside the liberal opposition of state and market forces.
What used to be called the American Dream was roughly a country where every man of normal capacity with a willingness to work could afford to support a wife and family, own a home and car, and take the children to the beach every summer. The realization of such a social vision in the middle of the last century was ascribed at the time (i.e., during the Cold War) largely to America’s free enterprise system. Now that this way of life is lost to us, we can better perceive that it also depended on certain limitations to the rule of market forces: viz., legalized discrimination against working women (the reservation of “family wage” jobs to men), restrictions on immigration (especially by the low-skilled), trade unionism and collective bargaining, as well as greater obstacles to foreign “outsourcing.” We have liberalism to thank for tearing all these supports away.
In compensation, it has given us the cheapness of the junk at Walmart. Economist Tyler Cowen believes that the rise of the talented few “will make it easier to ignore those who are left behind.” He has actually proposed constructing subsidized favelas where the losers of the liberal economic order – the majority of the population – can while away the years between birth and death with distractions such as free internet: “We might even look ahead to a time when the cheap or free fun is so plentiful that it will feel a bit like Karl Marx’s communist utopia, albeit brought on by capitalism.” He describes this nightmare scenario as “the light at the end of the tunnel” (141).
Deneen notes the irony that an economic system which has sacrificed everything to individual autonomy has come to seem even to the most talented like an impersonal form of bondage, a rat race from which there is no escape. He reports a typical student telling him:
If we do not race to the very top, the only remaining option is a bottomless pit of failure. To spend time in intellectual conversation in moral or philosophical issues or to go on a date all detract from time we could be spending on getting to the top and thus will leave us worse off relative to everyone else. (11-12)
Under our “meritocratic” education system, “elite universities engage in the educational equivalent of strip mining: identifying economically valuable raw materials in every city, town, and hamlet, they strip off that valuable commodity, process it in a different location, and render the products economically useful for productivity elsewhere.” But just how long are our economically valuable processed materials going to remain productive for us if they no longer even have time to go on dates? Meanwhile, “the places that supplied the raw materials are left much like depressed coal towns whose mineral wealth has been long since mined and exported” (132).
Education in the service of economic productivity is seen as “practical” but, as Deneen observes, this is to ignore the “more capacious way of understanding ‘practical’ to include how one lives as a spouse, parent, neighbor, citizen, and human being.” The abstract babbling about “social justice” on university campuses encourage functions as a replacement for the genuine social duties students no longer have.
Meanwhile, “conservative” legislatures are gutting the humanities offerings at state-supported schools in the name of cost-cutting. One liberal administrator has perceptively described the mindset: “They’ve decided that rather than defending Edmund Burke, it’s easier just to run Intro to Business online and call it a day.”
Deneen is not optimistic about the prospects for a political solution to the crisis of liberalism, warning that “the likely popular reaction to an increasingly oppressive liberal order might be forms of authoritarian illiberalism that would promise citizens power over those forces that no longer seemed under their control: government, economy, and the dissolution of social norms.” I believe this is correct. The best near-term political fix would likely be a Caesarism similar to what Donald Trump promised but failed to deliver in America. As Deneen says,
the “limited government” of liberalism today would provoke jealousy and amazement from tyrants of old, who could only dream of such extensive capacities for surveillance and control of movement, finances, and even deeds and thoughts.
Could the “illiberal democracy” endorsed by Viktor Orbán really be any worse?
In the longer term, the answer to our problems is not to be found in politics at all:
There is evidence of growing hunger for an organic alternative to the cold, bureaucratic, and mechanized world liberalism has to offer. While especially evident in the remnants of orthodox religious traditions, . . . the building up of practices of care, patience, humility, reverence, respect, and modesty is also evident among people of no particular religious belief, homesteaders and “radical homemakers” who are seeking within households and local communities to rediscover old practices that foster forms of culture liberalism otherwise seeks to eviscerate. Often called a counterculture, such efforts should better understand themselves as a counter-anticulture. (191-192)
As advanced liberalism throws ever more people into economic and familial instability, and our ever-increasing individual autonomy leaves us (as Tocqueville predicted) both “independent and weak,” “such communities of practice will increasingly be seen as lighthouses and field hospitals to those who might once have regarded them as peculiar and suspect” (197).
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A group led by Lake sets off to investigate the source of the prints and discovers the remains of fourteen mysterious amphibious specimens with star-shaped heads, wings, and triangular feet. They are highly evolved creatures, with five-lobed brains, yet the stratum in which they were found indicates that they are about forty million years old. Shortly thereafter, Lake and his team (with the exception of one man) are slaughtered. When Dyer and the others arrive at the scene, they find six of the specimens buried in large “snow graves” and learn that the remaining specimens have vanished, along with several other items. Additionally, the planes and mechanical devices at the camp were tampered with. Dyer concludes that the missing man simply went mad, wreaked havoc upon the camp, and then ran away.
27-year-old Hanio Yamada, the protagonist, is a Tokyo-based copywriter who makes a decent living and leads a normal life. But his work leaves him unfulfilled. He later remarks that his job was “a kind of death: a daily grind in an over-lit, ridiculously modern office where everyone wore the latest suits and never got their hands dirty with proper work” (p. 67). One day, while reading the newspaper on the subway, he suddenly is struck by an overwhelming desire to die. That evening, he overdoses on sedatives.
One of the seminal ideological battles of recent history has been that between internationalism, in one form or another, and nationalism. Countless words have been devoted to dissecting the causes, effects, merits, and drawbacks of the various incarnations of these two basic positions. Neoliberalism has, however, succeeded in becoming the dominant internationalist ideology of the power elite and, because nationalism is its natural antithesis, great effort has been expended across all levels of society towards normalizing neoliberal assumptions about politics and economics and demonizing those of nationalism.
Slobodian begins with the dramatic shift in political and economic conceptions of the world following the First World War. As he observes, the very concept of a “world economy,” along with other related concepts like “world history,” “world literature,” and “world affairs,” entered the English language at this time (p. 28). The relevance of the nineteenth-century classical liberal model was fading as empire faded and both political and economic nationalism arose. As the world “expanded,” so too did the desire for national sovereignty, which, especially in the realm of economics, was seen by neoliberals as a terrible threat to the preservation of the separation of imperium and dominium. A world in which the global economy would be segregated and subjected to the jurisdiction of states and the collective will of their various peoples was antithetical to the neoliberal ideal of free trade and economic internationalism; i.e., the maintenance of a “world economy.”
Philippe de Villiers en vilipende les fondements intellectuels. Ceux-ci reposeraient sur un trio infernal, sur une idéologie hors sol ainsi que sur un héritier omnipotent. Le trio regroupe Robert Schuman, Walter Hallstein et Jean Monnet. Le premier fut le ministre démocrate-chrétien français des Affaires étrangères en 1950. Le deuxième présida la Commission européenne de 1958 à 1967. Le troisième incarna les intérêts anglo-saxons sur le Vieux Continent. Ensemble, ils auraient suscité un élan européen à partir des prémices du droit national-socialiste, du juridisme venu d’Amérique du Nord et d’une défiance certaine à l’égard des États membres. Quant à l’héritier, il désigne « le fils spirituel (p. 255) », George Soros.
Outre le rappel du passé national-socialiste de Hallstein, il insiste que Robert Schuman, « le père de l’Europe fut ministre de Pétain et participa à l’acte fondateur du régime de Vichy (p. 67) ». Oui, Robert Schuman a appartenu au premier gouvernement du Maréchal Pétain. Il n’était pas le seul. Philippe de Villiers ne réagit pas quand Maurice Couve de Murville lui dit à l’occasion d’une conversation au Sénat en juillet 1986 : « Je me trouvais à Alger […] quand Monnet a débarqué. J’étais proche de lui, depuis 1939. À l’époque, j’exerçais les fonctions de commissaire aux finances de Vichy (p. 109). » L’ancien Premier ministre du Général De Gaulle aurait pu ajouter que membre de la Commission d’armistice de Wiesbaden, il était en contact quotidien avec le Cabinet du Maréchal. Sa présence à Alger n’était pas non plus fortuite. Il accompagnait en tant que responsable des finances l’Amiral Darlan, le Dauphin du Maréchal ! 
Es en dos etapas bien diferenciadas en donde cabe hablar de la prosapia hispana de la filosofía. Hubo una primera -pero ya remota- etapa de realismo escolástico, en la Edad Moderna, esto es, en los siglos áureos del Imperio. Hubo y hay otra etapa, mucho más reciente, presidida de forma contemporánea por el vitalismo filosófico de nuestro Unamuno y de nuestro Ortega. Es de este vitalismo de donde partimos hoy en la hispana filosofía y de donde, según los pasos que muestra Manuel F. Lorenzo, podemos beber y alzar nuevas construcciones del pensamiento. El vitalismo hispano, como el de toda Europa, bien podría bascular en dos direcciones, entre sí antagónicas. Una dirección posible, hacia donde inclinar su peso, es claramente irracionalista. La Vida como opuesta a la Razón, la Vida como primum que no atiende a razones, que siente las razones como enfermas y como lastres, como artificios y excrecencias. Los pensadores germanos han sido pródigos en este vitalismo irracionalista e irracional. Schopenhauer Nietzsche, Klages, son nombres que acuden entonces a la mente, y su filosofía hiriente incomoda a todo aquel que busca incólumes certezas, cimientos lógico-matemáticos, solideces de plomo, granito y acero. Eran aquellos filósofos de la vida enemigos de la ratio rebeldes muy a la alemana, esto es, rebeldes dados a la reacción.
La razón vital no se limita pensar en y desde "el hombre de carne y hueso". La razón vital implica que la vida humana no es sólo razón, pero sí es ejecución de actos en orden a una gestión de la vida misma, una gerencia y construcción que se hace de acuerdo con principios racionales. El hombre no es, para nada, un autómata racional, sino un sujeto orgánico cuya forma humana de adaptación y supervivencia psicobiológica exige la racionalidad. El hombre viene definido, en rigor, no por una sustancial cogitación ("yo soy una cosa que piensa") sino por una actividad circular, por un circuito entre el Yo y las Cosas (el "no-Yo" de Fichte). Ninguno de los polos del circuito debe ser reificado de antemano, ninguno ha de ser tratado acríticamente como una cosa o sustancia. La constitución de los dos polos, yo y mundo ("circunstancias"), consiste precisamente en el lanzamiento de series de acciones en las que el Yo se hace con el Mundo y recíprocamente el Mundo se presenta y re-presenta ante el Yo. La filosofía de Ortega, que tantas veces bebe de la fenomenología y del existencialismo alemán, es vitalista por cuanto que plantea siempre un sujeto humano orgánico definido como un verdadero sistema racional de operatividad, para quien conocer es, de otro modo, coextensivo con sobrevivir y "hacerse con el mundo". Las circunstancias orteguianas, como el "medio" (Umwelt) de los biólogos, conforman el espacio de las operaciones, un espacio que da pie a redefinir la experiencia en términos de construcción. Ortega no quería echar por la borda la razón, aplastarla bajo el peso de una salvaje o bestial Voluntad o Vida. Antes bien, quería explicar el hecho humano mismo de la razón. Al proceder así, al avanzar desde la dialéctica de Fichte, el raciovitalismo del filósofo madrileño ofrece un programa genético del racionalismo tanto como del empirismo. Se trata de volver al genuino espíritu con el que nació el idealismo: la superación de la magna filosofía europea de la Modernidad, tanto el empirismo isleño como el racionalismo continental, una superación que acude a la génesis misma del conocimiento. Y el conocimiento es al fin entendido no como resultado de acumulación de experiencias o como deducción de principios racionales o ideas innatas, sino como resultado de una experiencia en sí misma racional desde el inicio. Experiencia orgánica que se estructura en forma de sistemas de acciones que, por medio de una lógica material, estructuran nuevos sistemas de acciones más amplios en radio de alcance, más potentes en influjo sobre el medio, más "hábiles" en orden a una adaptación y control sobre el medio. En este sentido, Jean Piaget convirtió en empresa "positiva", científica y experimental, una parte muy importante del proyecto esbozado por Ortega. Piaget llevó a cabo un programa científico de esclarecimiento de los orígenes de la inteligencia y la razón de los sujetos orgánicos partiendo no tanto de un "Yo" que se pone (Fichte) y se limita con el No-Yo (mundo en torno, o "circunstancias") sino de un circuito que ya en la fase pre-intelectual incluye ese centro orgánico que lanza acciones-percepciones, como choca con "dificultades" y "obstáculos" de un entorno con el que deberá luchar. El bebé humano, tanto como cualquier individuo orgánico, es un centro de operaciones y es a la vez el eco y la respuesta de un medio ambiente transformado por las operaciones. Los dos sentidos en los que el sujeto orgánico "choca" con el mundo y lo transforma, a la vez que se transforma él, han recibido por parte de Piaget los nombres de "asimilación" y "acomodación". La asimilación, como proceso que generaliza la asimilación de los alimentos, supone la incorporación cognitiva y no sólo material del mundo. El Yo se "pone", se afirma, incorporando elementos del medio que él necesita para su mantenimiento (conservación, supervivencia). Pero el mundo (el "no-Yo") se le opone, se le enfrenta, le traza caminos por donde poder ejercer la acción y por donde no puede atravesar ese mundo con la acción. La acomodación piagetiana podría verse como el sentido opuesto a las acciones asimilativas. El Yo, como centro orgánico de operaciones, debe transformarse a su vez, debe reestructurar sus esquemas de acción para sortear, horadar, recomponer las barreras y resistencia del mundo-entorno. La razón en el proceso vital no es más que el grado máximo en que un sistema de acciones "se hace con el mundo" y, recíprocamente, el mundo se hace con el yo. Esta es la razón vital, pero investigada desde un punto de vista genético y positivo.
La incorporación de la filosofía materialista de Gustavo Bueno a todo este enfoque genético-constructivo del pensamiento se hace ineludible en este punto de mi breve recensión. Manuel F. Lorenzo es un buen conocedor del materialismo buenista, como discípulo directo suyo desde los primeros tiempos, miembro activo de la llamada "Escuela de Oviedo", hoy en disolución bajo la sombra de los sectarios y de los arribistas. En "La Razón Manual", el autor nos recuerda el aserto fichteano con que encabezábamos esta reseña: "uno profesa la filosofía que va de acuerdo con la clase de hombre que se es". Profesar el materialismo de Bueno, a pesar de sus deudas para con la epistemología genética piagetiana supone, verdaderamente, profesar una suerte de dogmatismo, de pensamiento antipático a la libertad, dicho en términos fichteanos. Las clases de hombres que, filosóficamente hablando, cabe hallar en el mundo se pueden reducir a dos: los amigos de la libertad (idealismo) y los amigos de la servidumbre (dogmatismo, en donde cabe situar el "materialismo"). "La Razón Manual" es un libro que toma partido expreso y decidido por la libertad, se entronca en el idealismo. No en el idealismo visionario, celeste, construido sobre las nubes. Se entronca en la tradición idealista-vitalista que, desde Fichte, indaga en "el lado activo", esto es, en las operaciones. En ese sentido, la filosofía de Bueno estudiada a la luz de la filosofía de la "Razón Manual" adopta el aspecto de un centauro. Por un lado desarrolla una inmensa y magnífica "Teoría del Cierre Categorial", basada en la obra de Piaget y en una genética de las operaciones gnoseológicas, por otro lado incluye un "preámbulo ontológico" de corte escolástico-marxista, que lastra todo el sistema. El propio nombre de "materialismo filosófico" supone una fuente inagotable de equívocos, que ha dado pie a que muchos farsantes e iletrados lo confundan con una versión sofisticada del leninismo y otros, por el contrario, con un positivismo cientifista o realista. Los grandes logros de Gustavo Bueno, depurados del dogmatismo y su "culto a la materia", se pueden reaprovechar y potenciar siguiendo las indicaciones de "La Razón Manual", todo un programa de investigación que humildemente recomiendo.
d crib-note interpretation of O’Brien (“zealous Party leader . . . brutally ugly”), but pray consider: a) Connolly was Orwell’s only acquaintance of note who came close to the novel’s description of O’Brien, physically and socially; b) if you bother to read O’Brien’s monologues in the torture clinic, you see he’s doing a kind of Doc Rockwell routine: lots of fast-talking nonsense about power and punishment, signifying nothing.
A good deal of Nineteen Eighty-Four, in fact, is a twisted retelling of Keep the Aspidistra Flying.
To repeat the obvious, Burnham was describing Communism, not some theoretical “totalitarianism,” as in some press blurbs for Nineteen Eighty-Four. As noted, Orwell explicitly disavowed any connection between his fictional “Party” and the Communist one. Nevertheless, the political program that O’Brien boasts about to Winston Smith is the Communist program à la James Burnham. It’s exaggerated and comically histrionic, but strikes the proper febrile tone.
In March 1947, while getting ready to go to Jura and ride the Winston Smith book to the finish even if it killed him (which it did), Orwell wrote his long, penetrating review of The Struggle for the World. He paid some compliments, but also noted some subtle flaws in Burnham’s reasoning. Here he’s talking about Burnham’s willingness to contemplate a preventive war against the USSR:
Through most of the book, the arguments are anchored in sturdy common sense, however much one might contest a point or emphasis here and there. On “Third World socialism,” for example, whether in China or Africa or the Americas, Sunkara is right that it turned Marxism on its head, so to speak: “revolutionaries embraced socialism as a path to modernity and national liberation. Adapting a theory that was built around advanced capitalism and an industrial proletariat, they struggled to find ‘substitute proletariats’—from peasants to junior military officers to deprived underclasses—to achieve these ends.” None of it was socialism in the Marxist sense, as coming from the breakdown (literal or not) of capitalism and signifying the liberation of humanity from alienated and exploitative production. It was a “socialism” subordinated to nationalistic ends.
Sommaire :
Aujourd’hui, il publie une plaquette réunissant les pièces du dossier polémique qui opposa Céline à Roger Vailland. Celui qui joua le rôle d’arbitre fut Robert Chamfleury (1900-1972), de son vrai nom Eugène Gohin. Comme chacun sait, il était locataire de l’appartement juste au-dessous de celui de Céline, au quatrième étage du 4 rue Girardon, à Montmartre. Après la guerre, il réfutera Vailland et affirmera que Céline était parfaitement au courant de ses activités de résistant. Au moment critique, Chamfleury lui proposa même un refuge en Bretagne. Dans une version antérieure de Féerie pour une autre fois, Céline le décrit (sous le nom de “Charmoise”) « cordial, compréhensif, conciliant, amical ». Sa personnalité est aujourd’hui mieux connue : parolier et éditeur de musique, Robert Chamfleury était spécialisé dans l’adaptation française de titres espagnols ou hispano-américains. Il fut ainsi une figure marquante de l’introduction en Europe des compositeurs cubains, et des rythmes nouveaux qu’ils apportaient. Il travaillait le plus souvent en duo avec un autre parolier, Henri Lemarchand. Lequel préfaça La Prodigieuse aventure humaine (1951, rééd. 1961) de son ami qui, sur le tard, rédigea plusieurs ouvrages de vulgarisation scientifique et de philosophie des sciences. Céline lui accusa réception avec cordialité de cet ouvrage et l’invita à venir le voir à Meudon. Dans sa plaquette, Andrea Lombardi reproduit la version intégrale de la lettre que Chamfleury adressa au directeur du Crapouillot, telle qu’elle parut, pour la première fois, dans le BC en 1990.
Antoine a donc choisi l’obscurité, décevant ainsi son épouse, qui le largue (et cesse de jouer au mécène) et, bientôt, sa fille Blandine, que viendra consoler l’attentionné Thomas. Il vivote dans un HLM de la Grand’Mare (hilarants tableautins du « vivre-ensemble ») et se contente de CDD à la médiathèque Arthur Rainbow (!), l’un des décors du roman – prétexte pour l’auteur à une description aussi comique que glaçante du dispositif d’infantilisation des masses et de leur encadrement « culturel ». Notre bibliothécaire tranche d’avec ses jeunes collègues, acquis à la culture du divertissement et conscients de leur rôle dans le dressage « citoyen » de leurs usagers. Il fera, ô surprise, l’objet d’une dénonciation en règle pour un article littéraire de sa revue consacré à un écrivain qui, dans un français parfait, ose évoquer l’actuel chaos migratoire et ses conséquences sans l’enthousiasme ni la cécité de commande. 
3) Tale conoscenza non è sapere se non è innanzitutto uno stato dell’essere; lo stato dell’essere è vedere l’Invisibile, che è l’Indicibile, ma per colui che è Essere non è che l’Uno, l’Istante che è fuori dal tempo: colui che vive nella dimensione dello Spirito è nel tempo pur essendo, nella radice, fuori dal tempo, vedrà il Divenire che è Essere, come indica l’enigmatico sorriso dell’Apollo di Veio, Egli, sorridendo della nostra stupidità, accenna, svela e rivela la Verità: l’Assoluto, il Divino è semplicemente ciò che tu vedi e che sei! Tu però non lo sai!
Si conosce solo ciò che si è e si è solo ciò che si conosce. Gli Dei non esistono a priori (per fede) ma esistono solo se si conoscono e si conoscono solo se si esperimentano, quindi esistono solo per colui il quale li esperimenta, cioè li vive e quindi li conosce; nel senso che, pur esistendo da sempre, per colui il quale non li conosce Essi non esistono. Tale è il significato della frase: “I Greci non credevano negli Dei; poiché li vedevano!”
Nel corpo della cultura europea scorre sangue «pagano». A muovere dal Settecento, filosofi, storici delle religioni e artisti, si sono prodigati nel tentativo di far riemergere le sorgenti più arcaiche della nostra cultura, richiamando l’attenzione sul suo effettivo ubi consistam. Anzi, questo sforzo è ancora in corso: si pensi, tra i tanti esempi che si possono fare in tema, alla valorizzazione del mondo pre-cristiano, presentata, nella propria opera, da Evola o, più recentemente, da autori quali Marc Augé e Alain de Benoist. Un ruolo rilevante, in tal senso, nel secondo decennio del «secolo breve», lo ha svolto il filologo svevo e storico delle religioni, Walter Friedrich Otto. Il suo lavoro più noto, Gli Dei della Grecia, fu in qualche modo preparato da un libro che egli pubblicò nel 1923, Spirito classico e mondo cristiano, di cui è recentemente apparsa la seconda edizione italiana, per i tipi de L’arco e la Corte (per ordini: arcoelacorte@libero.it, pp. 174, euro 15,00). Si tratta, come ricorda Giovanni Monastra, nell’informata e stimolante Prefazione, di un testo nel quale l’autore mostrò, in tutta la sua forza e con invidiabile spessore erudito, l’attrazione empatica per il mondo classico e, in particolare, per la religiosità ellenica. 
In Spirito classico e mondo cristiano, sono presenti: «lampeggianti intuizioni e utili indicazioni che consentono di vedere con occhi nuovi il mondo religioso ellenico» (p. 13). Otto cerca, in ogni modo, di far parlare i Greci e i loro dei, con la voce che gli fu propria. Fino ad allora, infatti, il clamore millenario prodotto dalla cultura dei vincitori, nella contesa storica sviluppatasi nel IV secolo d.c., quella cristiana, aveva impedito di cogliere il senso ultimo della visione del mondo ellenica. La critica al cristianesimo di Otto è radicale, i toni polemici decisamente aspri, in alcuni passaggi rasentano l’invettiva. Per questo, successivamente, il filologo non si riconobbe del tutto in tali affermazioni e non volle che questo studio fosse nuovamente pubblicato (la precedente edizione italiana uscì nel 1973, ad insaputa della figlia dello studioso). Il libro è scritto sotto il segno di Nietzsche. Come il filosofo dell’eterno ritorno, anche Otto distinse l’originario insegnamento del Cristo, insieme a Socrate considerato ultimo esempio di vita persuasa, dalla successiva dottrina cristiana, esito del travisamento teologico operato dalla tradizione paolino-agostiniana. In ogni caso, quale idea ha Otto della religio greca?
I Greci, al contrario, non conobbero mai la fides, la loro religio della forma era, in realtà, un susseguirsi di esperienze, di realizzazioni del sacro, da parte dell’uomo. Il tratto politeista consentiva loro di apprezzare i diversi volti dell’Uno e di viverli, di farne esperienza. A ciò contribuivano il mito e il culto. Nel secondo: «è l’uomo che si innalza al Divino, vive e agisce in comunione con gli dei; nel mito è il divino che scende e si fa umano» (p. 21). Il rapporto uomo-dio si manifestava, come rilevato da Rudolf Otto, nell’endiadi Io-Esso. Si trattava, pertanto, di una relazione centrata sull’ethos, sul modo d’essere (Evola avrebbe detto “razza dello spirito”) e non sul pathos, sulla dimensione emotiva e sentimentale. Il trionfo del cristianesimo rese esplicito che il mondo antico aveva perso la propria anima, vale a dire quest’atteggiamento paritetico degli uomini nei confronti degli dei. Ecco perché alla «buona novella» aderirono gli ultimi, i diseredati e le donne, che divennero strumenti mortiferi per lo spirito classico. In quel frangente, pochi tentarono una resistenza. Si ersero in pochi, ricorda Otto, sulle rovine di un mondo al tramonto per proclamarne la grandezza, tra essi Giuliano Imperatore. Monastra ipotizza, e la cosa va segnalata, che Evola, avrebbe potuto trarre il titolo del suo, Gli uomini e le rovine, proprio da un passo del libro del filologo tedesco, che certamente lesse.
Tragique destin que celui de ce jeune Liégeois qui n’aura pu exercer sa profession que durant une quinzaine d’années. Pour beaucoup, il demeure le découvreur de Céline auquel son nom demeure associé. Et pourtant nombreuses sont les œuvres importantes du XXe siècle qu’il aura publiées : L’Hôtel du Nord d’Eugène Dabit, Héliogabale d’Artaud, Tropismes de Nathalie Sarraute, Les Beaux Quartiers d’Aragon, Les Décombres de Rebatet, Le Bonheur des tristes de Luc Dietrich, Les Marais de Dominique Rolin, Notre-Dame des Fleurs de Jean Genet, pour ne citer que les plus connues.