Political Justice Read online




  Arktos

  London 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Arktos Media Ltd.

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  ISBN

  978-1-910524-14-5 (Paperback)

  978-1-910524-15-2 (Ebook)

  Editor

  Elliot Tardif

  Cover and Layout

  Tor Westman

  What experience and history teach is this — that people and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from it.

  — Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

  *

  Preface

  William Godwin is known for being a man of many talents. A philosopher, journalist, novelist and political radical, he lived in an age in which many of the ideas we take for granted today were first being formulated. That age was the Enlightenment, a time marred by bloody revolution but elevated by new philosophies, insight and debate. In his seminal work of political philosophy, An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice, Godwin attacked the political institutions of Britain in his day and became father of English radicalism, which has gone on to influence anarchists and communists alike. Godwin’s optimism, looking forward to an age where human reason and individual morality will supersede the need for government, religion, law and private property, may seem ridiculous at first reading to many people, but it is in fact a primitive expression of what would develop into the utilitarian morality of liberalism; and it is precisely these ideas which are beginning to permeate our modern society. What is concerning for ideological conservatives, however, is that whilst the ideas of Godwin are beginning to come to fruition, the advancement in human reason and goodwill is not happening in tangent with them, as Godwin claimed. This poses several worrying problems for humankind’s future.

  Godwin’s work was first introduced to me by a university lecturer who claimed to be a ‘revisionist Godwinian’ and willingly accepted the label of ‘radical leftist’. Whilst it is difficult to judge Godwin by his own time given the vast differences between his and ours, it is my opinion that it is worrying not only that Godwin’s ideas are being applied by the modern left in all aspects of life, including treasured academia, but also that these irrational ideas are swaying the people of the West and now existentially threaten Western identity. In the left’s ideal world, the goodness of humanity is boundless; in the real world, humanity is much more flawed. It is my contention that Jacobinism never died in European politics; it merely changed its forms over time. The culturally Marxist policies seen in the modern British Labour Party and American Democratic Party, and even in the socially liberal policies of ‘liberals’ in other parties of both the political left and right, owe some debt to Godwin’s radical Jacobinism. It seems to me that the very substance of leftist political radicalism is a dangerous and damaging ideology which must be challenged and opposed wherever it rears its head, and thus I felt there was a justification for writing this book. This work will primarily be dedicated to analysing the principles of government and society in roughly the same order as they are presented in Godwin’s Political Justice, comparing them to our own modern world, identifying where traditional conservatives can offer an alternative and refuting the dangerous fantasies of the modern New Left, from the perspective of the New Right.

  It goes without saying that this book is written from at least a partly biased perspective. There would be no value in seeking to refute other philosophies if the author did not hold a differing view. If I had to place myself within a particular philosophical school, then it would be right-Hegelianism, or Burkeanism. I have experienced quite enough rejection from the mainstream British right to term myself a traditionalist conservative with a small ‘c’ by now. The German idealist philosopher Hegel identified History as the greatest teacher, and that it is the role of the historian to look back at the events, deeds and works of history; identify what is beneficial to modern society and what is damaging; and apply them as appropriate. Hegel himself also saw the value in the state and in the law of nations and would have disagreed with Godwin on many levels. It is perhaps ironic then that a different, more left-wing reading of Hegel’s ideas went on to inspire leading communists such as Engels. We might contend that it is Godwin’s philosophy, when read more closely, that should be credited with fatherhood of the modern political left, at least in Britain, rather than a devious and radical reading of Marxism proposed by the thinkers of the Frankfurt School and implemented following the Second World War.

  I shall offer the reader a few fair warnings. Whilst I am not assuming that the reader has read Godwin’s Political Justice cover to cover, it goes without saying that this work, which critically examines the same issues as the other, will make some frequent references to it and its ideas. I will do my utmost to explain and dissect these points the best I can, but a vague familiarity with the political ideas of modern cultural Marxists, or at the very least with the ideas of the mainstream political left, should be made beforehand. In today’s age of the Internet and Google search, this is no difficult task. Occasionally I may also reference other philosophers and political thinkers (I have after all jumped straight in with Hegel, above), but wherever this occurs, again I shall do my best to condense and explain the ideas I am referencing in as clear as way as possible. It may still be worth the reader’s time, however, to follow up some of these references on his own in order to fully appreciate the background to the great battle of ideas that was once widespread and arguably continues in different ways to this day. It remains my firm belief that philosophy, especially political philosophy, should be within the reach of every educated mind, and so I shall avoid unnecessary jargon and assumption wherever I can.

  With that we may begin, but a final word: this book is, I hope, something a little different. It was very common in Godwin’s day for authors to play their ideas off against each other in print and engage in public debate via the medium of philosophical tract in the printed book. Today we have forgotten the power that ideas can serve us. Ideas and visions are what drive our political constitutions, and to become too caught up in policy is often what breeds the sort of disillusionment and apathy that many ordinary people feel in politics today. This, then, is what I commend William Godwin for the most: his work may not be the most famous of all philosophical treatises, but he had the grace and decency to offer his own ideas into the political mixer, ideas which have not fully left us and have gone some ways toward shaping our current political societies. Perhaps, then, this new work might be the start of something — a willingness to analyse the attitudes and agendas which permeate our political system, rather than the raw actions and policies. Ideas can be dangerous, and they can be liberating. It is the role of the philosopher to devise these ideas, but it is also his role to discover the ideas of others, and even split apart those ideas which he most dislikes, for if he remains cosy and alone in the echo chamber of the people he agrees with, he will never be able to challenge his own assumptions, and indeed, he will never be able to find his conception of the truth, nor save others from being blind to the truth.

  Politics, Godwin suggests, is a ‘proper vehicle for morality’, but to achieve the morality we desire, a political author must be fearless. In Godwin’s time, the zeitgeist was very much against him; in our own time, it is more inclined against traditionalist conservatives. I shall not apologise for any of the ideas presented in the book, and so long as there are those who agree that what I propose can
be supported with logic and the assent of History, it shall not need any apologists either. If we are to truly understand the value of political justice, we must consider ideological polar opposites, and not hold back in presenting a vision of the future fully steeped in ideological and cultural reasoning.

  A. J. Illingworth

  Oxford, MMXVII

  Book I.

  Political Institutions

  Chapter I

  Introduction

  The first matter for consideration is that concerning political institutions. By institutions we mean organisations that create and enforce laws, so for instance our parliaments and the judiciaries. In many countries, and certainly in Britain, our political institutions are centuries old — the English bicameral Parliament having been created in about the 1340s — whilst English Common Law is even older, with the first reference to ‘common law’ being in about 1189. These institutions have of course changed greatly since their first creation, but their heritage remains the same, and their names and fundamental systems of operation are constant, with each generation inheriting the legacy of the last.

  There is, of course, and has been throughout history, some disagreement over whether or not political institutions are beneficial to a society. Godwin himself points this out — that there are those of an anarchist disposition, who believe that institutions are the principal medium for corruption and the restriction of mankind’s progression. There are those, on the other hand, who defend them to the last and consider them the most necessary component for a civilised political and civil society. What we live in today is a political society marked by liberal democratic principles, a society where we expect the state to safeguard our persons, by maintaining a police force and defensive military, and our property, by criminalising theft, establishing ownership and property law, and ensuring that transactions regarding the ownership of property are maintained in a way that benefits both the buyer and the seller. We may take these freedoms for granted, but they are an inheritance from our ancestors, the result of hundreds of years of development. Without them, we would not live as happily as we do now when compared with previous centuries. It is therefore natural that such a state will also be marked by economic inequality, but what is also extant is another sort of equality: the equality of opportunity. Within every community, every citizen has the chance, when the state defends these freedoms, to buy and sell and to exercise the same freedom. In this regard every citizen is equal, even if the buyer must be deprived of some money to make the seller richer. In that transaction, the seller may gain some money, but the buyer may rest assured that he will be protected should anyone try to take the property which he has just bought away from him.

  It is Godwin’s argument that every government is still prone to error, and of course, to err is human; he is certainly correct. Error, of course, leads to vice, as he puts it, and it is the indulgence in vice that leads to bad government. A question often asked is this: is there not something better than this that politics can achieve? I have heard many modern socialists and liberals ask the exact same question when conservative principles have been put to them. It is not a bad question to ask: since humanity is a race which has always sought to continuously improve itself, why should we not consider whether or not we can do better? The main point of contention between political conservatives and radicals arises in this: whether the progress of humankind is best served within the structure of existing institutions, or whether new institutions, or indeed none at all, should be set up in order to facilitate a new kind of political system altogether. We should of course be eager to explore alternative views, but we should be equally eager to demonstrate how existing structures are just as effective, if not more so, in bringing about positive political change as brand-new ones are. This, then, shall be the principal aspect of the first part of our discussion.

  Chapter II

  Reading Political History

  The first part of Godwin’s enquiry is devoted to the history and development of political society, and indeed it is important to consider how political institutions evolved before we can go about defending or amending them. How we go about making our deductions from history, however, depends on how we read and understand the events of history. Godwin’s initial assertion, that ‘the history of mankind is little more than the history of crimes’ is a somewhat broad statement. It is always beneficial to be a little pessimistic of the human condition, and as Godwin himself points out, war frequently marches hand in hand with political advancement. He cites the conquests of Alexander and Caesar, the invasion of Greece by the Persians and the ascendency of great emperors such as Cyrus as examples, and indeed, in each of these cases thousands of men were commanded in war to gain great power and wealth for their commanders. In each of these cases, great massacres of men took place, and the only consequence of every war was yet another war. For instance, we see that the Hundred Years’ War between England and France set the stage for the Wars of the Roses in England, and closer to Godwin’s own time, the enmities between nations during the War of Spanish Succession carried over into the Seven Years’ War. In our own time we have seen invasions of countries in the Middle East give rise to such hatred among certain inhabitants as to prompt them to seek the destruction of the Western world. The threat of terrorism looms, and much of it is the fault of those who disturbed the haters’ original homelands in the first place. Humanity is prone, as we have seen before, to grave error.

  Godwin’s reading of history, however, is not entirely plausible. He questions how a rational man is able to take up the sword for one monarch over another, why men such as Alexander the Great, who were only after success for the sake of their own glory, should be supported by so many men, and why rational beings should support rulers with no care for anyone but themselves. This then explains in part Godwin’s adoration of the ideals of the French Revolution, which, being a republican movement, intended to place the ordinary man at the head of the political institution, rather than a king or one of his subordinates. Whilst war is, of course, often devastating, the human mind is an incredibly complex tool, and indeed, there are many reasons why a soldier would be willing to fight and die for the success of a king, or for a haughty ruler of any kind, for that matter. Whilst the revolutionaries on the streets of a city seeking to overthrow its king are willing to fight and die for the ideals of freedom and independent nationhood, so too is the soldier of a monarch willing to die for his ruler because he feels as though that ruler embodied the essence of his nation state. It is out of loyalty that men perform the mightiest of deeds. Leaders such as Alexander and Caesar promised some of the most wonderful riches and reforms to their people in return for their support. More often than not, once they gained power, these rulers gave their people what they demanded. Caesar gave his soldiers land and reformed the laws regarding slavery to put many poor Romans into paid work; Alexander allowed his men the opportunity to raid rich cities such as Persepolis and earned them a fortune. Many people simply do not care whether or not a ruler is leading them for the leader’s own gain or not, so long as they come out of the situation better off. Godwin questions why rational beings should sacrifice political freedom for the sake of rulers, and the answer is simply that political freedom matters little when compared to wealth. Wars of aggression often achieve little apart from advancing the wealth of the invader, and morally speaking, rational men should reject them. Wars of defence, on the other hand, are less morally troubling.

  One of Godwin’s most vitriolic attacks is against the Austrian Empress Maria Theresa. He writes, ‘What can be more deplorable than to see us first engage eight years in war rather than suffer the haughty Maria Theresa to live with a diminished sovereignty?’ a reference to the eight-year War of Austrian Succession. However, what Godwin overlooks is the very nature of wars such as the War of Austrian Succession. The war began with a Prussian invasion of the then-Austrian territory of Silesia, which was swiftly followed by several usurpers making tenuous cla
ims to the Austrian throne. For the Austrian people, the Prussians had violated their home territory, and so the fighting of a war was a mere act of self-defence. What perhaps troubled Godwin most was the entrance of Britain into the war, but Britain was allied to Austria at the time, and the purpose of an ally is to defend its friends. Austria was legitimately in danger, and it is legitimate for an ally to assist in the defence of another country. It is in ways such as these that nations are maintained and sovereignty is defended; otherwise, the oppression of foreign nations is more easily propagated. It would be harder for an ally to justify supporting another nation in a war of aggression, since alliances should be by their very institution defensive.

  For many of the Austrians defending their home territory, they were also defending their Empress. The concept of monarchy serves not merely as a system of government but also as a rallying point for society. Monarchs are often well educated and wealthy and serve a nation in some way, either by acts of charity or by attending to the nation in times of crisis. Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom is a prime example of this; in a modern age where absolute monarchy is dead as a system of government in the Western world, the benefits of monarchy are truly seen. It is this rallying point around the traditions and culture of the nations that monarchs serve which has inspired soldiers and laymen alike to fight for them throughout history.

  This leads us on nicely to Godwin’s next contention: in his day, absolute monarchy was by far the most common form of government, the main exceptions being Britain and the United States, a constitutional monarchy and a republic, respectively. This feudal system, which, in Godwin’s words ‘holds a class of mankind down in abject penury’, by which we may assume he is referring to the serfdom of many peasants in subjugation to their lords, is of course far removed from the reality of the modern world. It is only right to criticise such systems, for as Britain of the late 18th century had proved, the natural state of man was one of political freedom, where the state served only to protect, not to oppress and command its people. It is perhaps surprising, then, that Godwin developed such a hatred of monarchy, considering that his own home country had begun to perfect a system which managed monarchy with democracy, freedom with protection against impingements on that freedom. In fact, Godwin himself quotes John Locke, the father of liberal democracy, who described absolutism as ‘more to be deprecated than anarchy’.1 It is amusing to consider, then, that Locke still considered anarchy to be worthy of deprecation, if not quite so much as absolutism, and thus the father of anarchism faced a certain irony in quoting him.