Philosophers are Here to Save the Day! (Fish and Lilla on Liberalism)

September 10th, 2007 Posted in Of Interest

Stanley Fish objects to the claim that “liberalism is not a substantive ideology but a political device that allows many ideologies to flourish.” He argues that liberalism comprises a conception of the good life. That is at the same time its own faith, and one that “eviscerates” other faiths. These faiths do not fully flourish unless they have political as well as private effects–unless they can align “the affairs of the world” with their own conception of the good life. Hence religions that much such strong claims aren’t really being tolerated–not in their natural forms, because truly tolerating a religion would mean instituting a theocracy in the name of that religion. Consequently, liberalism naturally involves a “close-mindedness with respect to religions that do not honor the line between the secular and the sacred.” Liberal societies tolerate “reasonable” doctrines, meaning doctrines that respect that line; but they suppress doctrines that would cross that line. Hence liberalism is “militantly secular and incapable, by definition, of seeing the strong claim of religion ….”

Much of this is a good analysis of liberalism. Unfortunately, the conclusion that liberalism is incapable of “seeing the strong claim of religion” does not follow. Stanley Fish seems to appreciate this claim. And anyone can advocate doctrines that cross the line between secular and sacred. It is acting upon the those doctrines that is suppressed by a liberal society. Does Fish mean by “seeing the strong claim” accepting the claim outright? Rather, the suppression of the claim should not be surprising: a liberal society would cease to exist without this suppression. Demanding that a liberal society tolerate not just strong anti-liberal claims but strong anti-liberal deeds is, to use an example that Fish ought to appreciate, like Milton’s Satan attempting to be greater than God: it’s absurd.

Hence liberalism is “militantly secular” only trivially–i.e., to the extent that it resists forces that would militantly supplant a secular regime in favor a theocratic one. And as Fish notes, today there are many forms of religion that no longer make strong political claims and are perfectly compatible in word and deed with a liberal society. Liberalism may be its own kind of dogma, but it is certainly more tolerant of other dogmas than a standard theocracy; it allows any religious expression up to the point where acceding to the public claims of those dogmas would mean self-destruction. A radical Christian may feel frustrated that they force others to comply with their conception of the good life. But that’s as good as it gets barring a collapse of the particular liberal society that prevents him from doing so. On the other hand, he may establish a community where there are private institutions, severe social sanctions, and other factors that approximate close to full expression of their strong claims. Fish is conflating several different senses of “public”, and the public-private distinction is not as hard and fast as he makes it out to be. Living within a secular society may be frustrating, but it may not be entirely incompatible even with religions that would under ideal conditions see their strong claims acted upon in full.

Finally, Fish rejects–via Mark Lilla– the alternatives of demonization and fighting war on the one hand; and conversion or finding common ground on the other. Lilla’s flimsy conclusion–that we “cope”–does not really address the problem of the incompatibility of strong-claim religions and liberalism. It is a trite recommendation that we find “moments of mutual self-interest and practical accommodation”.

What leads Fish and Lilla to such despair (or is it a nostalgic hope that nihilism not prevail)? The idea is that there isn’t an inevitable drift towards secularization, but rather a resurgence of strong-claim religion (example du jour: radical Islam). And yet they provide no empirical evidence for the conclusion that radicalism isn’t a symptom of backwardness. We have plenty of evidence to the contrary, including the history of drift towards secularization in Western societies, which Fish and Lilla wish to treat as an exception.

These days I am very wary of the claim that the “theologico-political problem”, as Leo Strauss called it, is a persistent problem of tremendous importance–a “crisis” for the West–despite the evidence to the contrary. After all, this is a tremendously self-serving claim for intellectuals to make: if human beings cannot live without strong-claim religion (lest they lapse into nihilism), and such claims are incompatible with liberalism, it is philosophers who must be called into negotiate between faith and reason. We ought to be suspicious of claims that absurdly elevate the political importance of philosophers in this way. I can’t help thinking that such positions reflect a secret wish on the part of philosophers that withdrawal from the world in favor of a contemplative life ultimately paradoxically contain its own heroic reversal; that philosophy turn out to be profoundly related to worldly practicalities after all; that these worldly practicalities consist of just the sort of situation that will allow them to swoop down from their ivory perches and, Prospero-like, apply a little rough magic before all is said and done.