Is democracy antidemocratic? If you apply the standards of a hugely influential modern understanding of what democracy ought to be, this question is not as paradoxical as it may seem. According to this understanding of popular government, which forms part of a larger view of human nature and society, the practices of actual democracies fall far short of, or egregiously violate, what is considered to be “real” democracy. This view is not confined to a small minority of theorists, and it is not of recent origin. It has been a powerful and growing influence in America and leading Western European nations and their colonial satellites for a couple of centuries. It has long been prominent in universities and intellectual circles, and it is today more widespread than ever—so ubiquitous, in fact, that its views are a prominent ingredient in public debate whenever issues of democracy or related issues are raised. This view of democracy informs a wide range of demands for reform that often extend far beyond politics. This understanding of democracy has become something like a new view of life, a replacement for old Western beliefs and practices, and in some instances appears to have taken on a religious dimension. The research behind this book provides overwhelming evidence for the view that a certain imaginative belief in democracy has emerged that has all the earmarks of an entire ideology and that is, moreover, perhaps the dominant political belief system in modern Western society. So compelling is the evidence for this view that it is surprising so few have been aware of this hugely influential ideology and that nobody has undertaken a comprehensive study of its features. It is as if the ideology in question has been assumed by its advocates and many sympathizers to be self-evidently true and that it has, as it were, been able to hide in plain sight.
This book investigates the underpinnings and major thrust of what appears to be yet another political “ism.” Considering the enormous influence of this belief system, it needs to be examined with care. The name I give this post-Enlightenment understanding of democracy is “democratism.” While I am not the first to use this term for the phenomenon in question, this book is, to my knowledge, the first attempt to offer a systematic description, analysis, and assessment of the ideology of democratism.
At its core, democratism is a hypothetical or ideal conception of democracy that is only tenuously connected to the actual, historical desires of real popular majorities. Rousseau was a pioneering figure in elaborating a new conception of democracy that theoretically calls for rule by the people but eschews popular sovereignty in practice. Rousseau labels the ideal expression of the popular will the “General Will.” While Rousseau coined the term and gave it powerful expression in The Social Contract, many others have consciously or unconsciously incorporated this same fundamental concept into their understandings of democracy. Democratism can perhaps best be summed up as the belief that democracy is real or genuine only to the degree that it reflects an idealized conception of the popular will. The president of Freedom House was oriented by this democratist conception of democracy when he declared popular majorities a “threat” to democracy. How could a popular majority threaten democracy, one might wonder? When democracy morphs conceptually in the imagination from a type of government into an abstract and ahistorical ideal, its historical manifestations may be considered false, not “real democracy,” or not democratic enough. One of the abiding features of democratism is the belief that true democracy can be accomplished once certain institutional mechanisms are put in place. It is always just over the horizon.
Because the general will is an ideal, a leader or group of leaders must bring it to life practically. Rousseau’s Social Contract is, again, paradigmatic. An all-knowing legislator is Rousseau’s solution to the seemingly intractable problem of escaping business-as-usual politics. Leading without coercing, omniscient and all-capable, the legislator is the deus ex machina of The Social Contract, setting the new political system in motion. Those who conceive of democracy according to the democratist perspective rely on a legislator in one form or another to midwife a new, truer Democracy into existence. Because of its prima facie commitment to democracy, democratism is often reluctant to acknowledge its dependence on a legislator or vanguard to encourage the “right” democratic norms. One of the paradoxes of democratism and one of the indicators of its ideological nature is the need for an elite to coax the general will—whatever name it might go by—from the populace.
Calling for greater power to the people and fewer mediating institutions between the people and government, democratism has every appearance of being highly democratic. Heavy use of abstract concepts from the democratic lexicon has helped democratism largely escape notice as an ideology and as fundamentally antidemocratic. It will likely come as a surprise to many to see notable champions of democracy such as Thomas Jefferson and the school of thought known as deliberative democracy included in this book as examples of an ideology that, to a greater or lesser degree, rejects popular sovereignty. Subtle assumptions about the need to alter inherited norms and cultural practices guide the ostensibly democratic thought of democratists. Careful examination reveals that what may at first seem like reasonable reforms are in fact proposals for dramatic, even revolutionary changes to a people’s social norms and ways of life. Democratism glosses over the ways in which it expects to transform a people’s practices and even psychology, focusing instead on the technical aspects and new procedures. Yet the adoption of the new “democratic” system is dependent on the people accepting it and practicing it, much more so than on the correct political architectonics, as the history of political revolution and lesser political change reveals.
To what extent is democratism’s ideal of democracy connected to actual democracy as a form of government? If it is found to have little in common with our traditional notion of democracy as “rule by the people,” then it is worth investigating this new conception of rule and asking if it is desirable or legitimate. Part of this will entail asking if democratic idealism is a fruitful way of conceiving democracy, or if such idealism inherently encourages undemocratic, even dangerous political practices. If democratism is not a system that depends on the people’s actual, historical will, then on what does it base its legitimacy? These are questions that this book investigates through a careful examination of this ideology’s leading representatives, the democratists.
The original idea for this book was sparked by an observation that the vast majority of democratic scholarship in recent decades is oriented by a shared normative assumption about democracy, namely the belief that real democracies are more or less legitimate as they conform to an ideal of democracy. This assumption is rarely spelled out, but it underlies almost all normative questions about democracy in political science and public discussion. Furthermore, because a democratic ideal is held to be normative, it is assumed that all countries of the globe must be striving toward it, even if it is not apparent that they are doing so. The assumption is that in undemocratic countries most of the people, if they were able to think rationally and clearly about their interests, would choose something like Western-style democracy, and specifically “democracy” as the elite representatives of this ideology conceive of it. It seemed to me that this democratic idealism represented a type of enchantment that Max Weber thought had disappeared from the Western imagination. Weber was, of course, correct in the sense that scientific rationality had replaced an earlier Christian and spiritual interpretation of life, but in another sense the world remains very much enchanted. This book argues that the modern Western world is enchanted with an imaginative vision of democracy that at times is almost indistinguishable from religious belief. And like religious belief, it has its apostles, who define the democratic orthodoxy, and also its heretics, who must be managed and censored.
I began this book in the summer of 2016, before it was clear that a new form of populism was beginning to take shape in the United States and many European nations. Since then, it has been interesting to see new manifestations and expressions of what I have taken to be the ideology of democratism. If anything, it has become more pronounced and overt. It is routine to hear about this or that policy or action being urgently needed in order to “save democracy,” for example. Yet increasingly, it seems, democracy must be rescued from itself. It must be saved even from popular majorities. The term “populist,” paradoxically, is now often used to indicate those who allegedly wish to destroy democracy. “Populists” are often derided as “authoritarians” or “fascists.” The democratist ideology has created the framework for this otherwise perplexing phenomenon, equating populism with what would seem to be its opposite: authoritarianism. Those who interpret democracy as an ideal believe that its correlation with the will of actual majorities need not be perfect or even approximate. Censorship, military action, or other seemingly undemocratic activities may be needed to coerce an unwilling or ignorant population into accepting what the democratists consider to be a more genuine expression of democracy. Even elections may be considered outmoded institutions if they do not produce results that would further the democratist ideal. Perhaps democracy proper—the actual rule by the people through some form of representation—is an outdated form of government, inappropriate for extended territories or particular peoples, and another type of rule is warranted, say, some form of aristocracy (from the Greek, “rule by the best”) or oligarchy (“rule by the few”). But democratism does not openly declare the desire for another form of government; it presents itself as supremely democratic and its contributors as the mantle-bearers of true democracy. The evidence must be weighed as to whether democratism represents a variant of democratic thinking or the opposite and to what extent this modern, visionary conception of popular rule overshadows the older concept of democracy as actual, rather than hypothetical, rule by the people.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been nearly as enjoyable to write and to revise without the enthusiastic support I received from so many around me. On our first date, my now-husband coaxed me into a conversation about epistemology and about the ideas I was just beginning to work out for my book. Since that first date, you have always encouraged me, Brian. Always pushing me to go to conferences, attend or give lectures, teach courses, and, above all, to keep writing. You have never faltered in your support, which has often meant lugging our entire family across the country for extended periods of time or for weekend “getaways” with three kids and an academic conference. None of this would be possible without you. Thank you.
At The Catholic University of America, Claes Ryn spent untold hours discussing the ideas of this book, offering suggestions, and reading drafts at the eleventh hour. The courses that I took with you alerted me to the indispensability of the imagination in questions of life and politics, to the need for continual and careful revision (a lesson that I am still learning), and also to the idea that a work is never quite done—it can always be expressed differently, improved, cast in a different light. That last lesson is one I am only now beginning to appreciate.
Phil Henderson, thank you especially for your comments and direction on the chapter on Wilson and on the topic of the Bush Doctrine. Patrick Deneen, I am grateful to you for generously offering advice that proved very helpful in getting this book published.
The providential friendship that began my very first week of graduate school with Lucie Miryekta has played no small role in the course of my intellectual development. Our conversations about the eternal questions that would go until the wee hours of the morning, from the basement on Blair Road to the California wineries, were formative. I turned to you for help making connections when I was too sleep-deprived or spent to carry on, and you never failed to lead me to the heart of the matter.
Though its faults are mine alone, so many colleagues and professors have provided the intellectual village from which this work was brought forth. I would like to thank Alison McQueen for her selfless mentorship at Stanford for two years. The direction you provided me for deepening my engagement with Rousseau was especially invaluable. Marek Chodakiewicz, I would like to thank you for generously allowing me to attend your course on Russian history at the Institute of World Politics and for shaping the trajectory of my intellectual pursuits. Ryan Holston, thank you for having numerous conversations with me about deliberative democracy, for generously sharing your own work on the topic with me, and for reading an early draft of my chapter on the topic. Justin Garrison, thank you for your mentorship over the years, beginning when I was your teaching assistant. I appreciate your commenting on an early draft of the chapter on Jefferson and for offering constructive advice. David Hendrickson, I would like to thank you for reading a version of the chapter on Jefferson. As an expert on the man and someone whom I cite in this book, I consider myself very fortunate to have received your feedback. Matthew Cantirino, I appreciate your reading versions of the chapter in which I define democratism and for offering helpful commentary. I have gleaned many insights from your own impeccable writing and work. Eric Adler, thank you kindly for offering publishing advice when I reached out to you.
I consider my encounter with Rajan Menon at a conference nearly providential. Thank you, Dr. Menon, for reading a version of the chapter on Maritain and for suggesting that Oxford University Press might be a natural home for a book like mine. It turns out that you were right, and I am grateful for your introduction to David McBride. David, I am grateful to you as my editor, for your advice, for taking a chance on my manuscript, and for finding reviewers. I am also grateful to my anonymous reviewers, whose comments and criticism helped me to strengthen the manuscript considerably.
I would like to thank the librarians at the Catholic University of America Mullen Library. When I moved away from the area, you were kind enough to continue mailing hard-to-find books to me so that I could finish my research. That service was indispensable.
I especially want to thank my father, who first instilled in me a love of reading and a love of political philosophy. And thank you for reading over chapters of this manuscript and offering your advice and, most of all, encouragement.
I also want to thank my mother, who always encouraged me to broaden my mind and whose support I have always enjoyed.
Thank you to my mother- and father-in-law, Joanne and Drew, for always taking an interest in my work and success. Thank you for your tireless help with the children for extended periods and giving me the gift of time to spend on intellectual work. Words cannot adequately express my gratitude to you.