Monday, December 3, 2007

The Proper Functions of Government

Yen-Ling Chang

There are some among us who look to the government to solve almost any problem that is not strictly personal to individuals or families. There are others who, almost as a first principle, want to reduce government functions to the absolute minimum, as if asymptotically toward the limiting case where there will be no government at all (something I recall reading of one enthusiast of small government to want). Between Republicans and Democrats today the largest, most persistent difference is over what the proper domestic functions of government are. (Foreign policy, the principles governing which are even less settled or even understood, will be taken up elsewhere at this forum.) Thus, many Republicans object to the social programs of the New Deal and Great Society as improper government intrusions into matters that are no business of the government, and they remain intent on undoing them.

That such feelings should widely persist seventy years after the New Deal legislations went into effect attests to a profound failure of our political thought, which should long ago have laid down the principles by which we could come to some reasonable agreement on how to discriminate between proper and improper activities of government. Of course, in such practical matters decisive discrimination may not be possible; arbitrary differences in judgment are probably inescapable. Nevertheless, the gulf between the two parties would not be as wide as it is if there were common reference points—general principles—on which all are agreed.

So, in addressing the nation’s public policy needs our first consideration must be just such principles. If we can settle on them, then we can better choose the particular issues we should address as well as the means by which we want to address them.

As a practical matter, however, to my mind, most of the issues that are being widely discussed in the presidential campaigns in 2007 should easily qualify as proper federal government concerns. So we do not need to have a decisive agreement on principles before actually proceeding to consider some of these issues. At Citizen Solidarity First Step we will take up a number of such issues directly as soon as we can. In each case the justification for doing so will be on the basis of the principles I set out here, but allowing for the possibility that on subsequent reflection we may decide to discard the issue as inappropriate for government action at the national level. Further, I don’t pretend to final understanding; the principles I elaborate here are themselves open for modification.

Therefore, the first subject (“issue” at this website) for our joint consideration—apart, that is, from the paper “The next stage in the development of American democracy” that has motivated the Citizen Solidarity First Step project—is the proper functions of government. The two complementary governing principles are solidarity
and subsidiarity. I welcome your most rigorous and imaginative criticism.

1.  Principle of subsidiarity


The Tenth Amendment to the American Constitution states: “The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states respectively, or to the people.”

The unstated justification for this amendment is clearly that the United States is a creature of the states and ultimately of the people, each with a preexisting and superior claim to any power not specifically conferred on the national government by the act of union. As a legal or constitutional claim this amendment is unexceptionable, but it does not set out any reason why it is or may be better that such powers be exercised by the states or the people as individuals or in subordinate groups instead of by the federal government.

To find this reason let me first refer to some Catholic social teachings. As the Industrial Revolution gathered pace in the nineteenth century and the exploitation of workers became ever more brutal, various schools of socialist thought arose to seek improvement in labor’s lot. Industrial unions slowly came into existence in the second half of the century, inevitably giving rise to conflicts with owners of capital. The question then arose as to the proper role of government in these conflicts. In 1891 Leo XIII issued an encyclical on labor and capital, Rerum Novarum, in which he tried to steer a balanced course between complete government noninterference and heavy-handed interference on one side or the other.

Paragraph 35 of this encyclical says, “We have said that the State must not absorb the individual or the family; both should be allowed free and untrammelled action so far as is consistent with the common good and the interest of others.” On the other hand, in paragraph 52 he writes, “There are occasions, doubtless, when it is fitting that the law should intervene to prevent certain associations, as when men join together for purposes which are evidently bad, unlawful, or dangerous to the State. In such cases, public authority may justly forbid the formation of such associations, and may dissolve them if they already exist. But every precaution should be taken not to violate the rights of individuals and not to impose unreasonable regulations under pretense of public benefit. For laws only bind when they are in accordance with right reason, and, hence, with the eternal law of God.”

In 1931 in a changed world Pius XI’s issued a new encyclical Quadragesimo Anno to follow up on Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum. With totalitarianism having reared its head, Paragraph 80 of this encyclical On Reconstruction of the Social Order says: ‘The supreme authority of the State ought, therefore, to let subordinate groups handle matters and concerns of lesser importance, which would otherwise dissipate its efforts greatly. Thereby the State will more freely, powerfully, and effectively do all those things that belong to it alone because it alone can do them… Therefore, those in power should be sure that the more perfectly a graduated order is kept among the various associations, in observance of the principle of "subsidiary function," the stronger social authority and effectiveness will be the happier and more prosperous the condition of the State.’

Here, I take it, is the first explicit mention of the principle of subsidiarity, which has since been codified into the Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraph 1883, ‘Socialization also presents dangers. Excessive intervention by the state can threaten personal freedom and initiative. The teaching of the Church has elaborated the principle of subsidiarity, according to which "a community of a higher order should not interfere in the internal life of a community of a lower order, depriving the latter of its functions, but rather should support it in case of need and help to coordinate its activity with the activities of the rest of society, always with a view to the common good."’

In turn, the European Community has lifted the principle of subsidiarity into great prominence in the Maastricht Treaty that created the European Union in 1992. Just how important this principle is to the European Union is illustrated by the fact that in December of the same year the European Council devoted a good bit of its effort at its meeting in Edinburgh to a lengthy elaboration of how in general the principle of subsidiarity enshrined in a new Article 3b of the Treaty was to be applied. Without going into the details of the Treaty and the Edinburgh Annex, let me quote from the Europa Glossary maintained on the Web by the European Commission: The principle of subsidiarity “is intended to ensure that decisions are taken as closely as possible to the citizen and that constant checks are made as to whether action at Community level is justified in the light of the possibilities available at national, regional or local level. Specifically, it is the principle whereby the Union does not take action (except in the areas which fall within its exclusive competence) unless it is more effective than action taken at national, regional or local level. It is closely bound up with the principles of proportionality and necessity, which require that any action by the Union should not go beyond what is necessary to achieve the objectives of the Treaty.”

If you read the texts carefully, you can see that papal teachings are overwhelmingly works of reason, at least such reason as prevails in the Vatican in the periods leading up to the promulgation of the teachings, whereas the European Treaty literally breathes the jealousy of member states to guard their own prerogatives and surrender as little power to the Union as possible. Not that Catholic Catechisms or papal encyclicals do not also harbor compromises between contending parties in the Church and within the Vatican, but the European Union is more thoroughly a political and arbitrary creation.

Specifically, at the time the Maastricht Treaty was negotiated, there was Britain on one side, supported by some of the newer members of the Community, that wanted as little “union” as possible—Britain, after all, had all along wanted the European Community to be little more than a free trade area, certainly not a vigorous political union, whereas most of the original six members of the Community wanted deeper political union. So far as the European Union is concerned, the central positioning of the subsidiarity principle in the Maastricht Treaty reflects a political victory for Britain. And it is becoming increasingly doubtful that Europe in the foreseeable future, widened to near unmanageability (again partly at the urging of Britain) in the absence of a more vigorously empowered center, will be able to solidify its political weight to serve as an equal political partner, much less a counter-weight, to the United States, as some founders of the Union had hoped.

Nevertheless, there are good reasons for the principle of subsidiarity. It is not clear to me, however, that either the Maastricht Treaty and its Edinburgh Annex or the Church teachings adequately probe the depth of these reasons. Consider the European Union’s reason for the principle. It is to ensure that “decisions are taken as closely as possible to the citizen.” One may ask, What is wrong with decisions being made at great distance from the citizen? One answer must be this, that the farther away one is from an actual problem, the more abstract becomes the understanding or feeling of this problem, and being abstract means loss of details, of the particularities of the problems as actually experienced. As a result, solutions devised at a distance have greater chances of missing the target badly or altogether. Therefore, in an important respect the justification for the principle of subsidiarity is to ensure the greatest possible effectiveness of action, which is also the encyclical Quadragesimo Anno’s concern. But effectiveness, after all, is always more or less, so that in this respect the principle of subsidiarity cannot yield a decisive discrimination between the proper and improper activities of the central government.

More tellingly, the European principle of subsidiarity is also intended to ensure that “constant checks are made as to whether action at Community level is justified in the light of the possibilities available at national, regional or local level. Specifically, it is the principle whereby the Union does not take action (except in the areas which fall within its exclusive competence) unless it is more effective than action taken at national, regional or local level.” That is, if we can do it ourselves, we don’t want Brussels to get involved. Put negatively, the Catholic Catechism says, “Excessive intervention by the state can threaten personal freedom and initiative” and “deprive” “a community of a lower order… of its functions.” We are getting warm, but still not there. What is wrong with loss of freedom or initiative or being deprived of one’s functions? What if Brussels does take on something that London can do on its own?

Let me suggest that the ultimate justification for the principle of subsidiarity lies in the loci of freedom and satisfaction as they are actually experienced, hence the loci of value creation. Among human beings the loci are first and last the individual human beings. Suppose, for example, I have a problem. It is I who most intimately and keenly feel the problem, and if the problem gets solved, it is again I who feel that solution most keenly. And if I myself manage to solve that problem, this creativity or freedom of solving the problem yields the utmost satisfaction such as nobody else can experience in connection with this, my particular problem, because at the very least the latter cannot feel being beset by that problem and then having the burden lifted as keenly as I can feel them. Therefore, if you can do arithmetic sums of the possible satisfactions deriving from the solution of the problem in question, the sum from my own successfully taking care of the problem will always be greater, deeper than if someone else does it for me. And life is freedom or self-creation, creation is of satisfaction or concrete value, so that my taking care of my own problems adds greater, deeper, more intense value to the universe than if someone else does it for me.

Similar considerations apply to families, local communities, institutions, regions, etc. Therefore, the ideal is for each individual, each family, each community to live as fully as possible and take care of its own problems. This is also the most efficient way of dealing with the problems of living, because less learning is needed about the nature of the problem needing solution.

(You can see the foreign policy implications of the subsidiarity principle, can you not? But that is for our foreign policy discussion thread.)

But you cannot talk about subsidiarity unless you have a solidarity or union to which the principle of subsidiarity applies. Thus, the very first words of the Constitution of the United States say: “We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union…” In the minds of the framers of our Constitution union or solidarity takes precedence.

Yet, I began this discussion with the idea of subsidiarity. Why? Because although in the order of existence every human life begins with the physical union of a man and a woman and subsequently the fusion of the woman’s ovum with a sperm of the man to form a zygote, so that one may well argue that a human-level union followed by a complete cellular fusion precede independent individual human existence. Yet, you can also argue that before that act of physical union the woman and the man were each a separate, more or less independent individual. Either way, ultimately you cannot tear independent individual human existence from mutual relevance and support with human solidarity. Therefore, the order of our discussion of the two ideas is arbitrary.

Nevertheless, in the Western world we have put a premium on individual rights above the collective, so much so as to have made the phenomenon of human solidarity into something of a mystery. Most assuredly, when the Chinese, for example, claim priority of consideration for the collective welfare above the individual, Americans dismiss the Chinese claim without even thinking it worthwhile to argue. In the same way, we shake our heads at the Japanese for hammering on nails that stick out.

To most readers of this paper, therefore, subsidiarity will be easier to appreciate than solidarity. In connection with the Maastricht Treaty the Europeans, at least the British, to whom Americans feel the closest historical, political, and intellectual kinship, have also made a bigger deal of subsidiarity than union. Further, throughout the British-American constitutional development, the emphasis until the late nineteenth century was on limiting the powers of government, with the result that, as I indicated in the paper “The next stage in the development of American democracy,” many Americans have persistently questioned the Constitutional provenance of social programs introduced since the New Deal. My choice of the order in which these two ideas are discussed here merely follows the line of least resistance.

2.  Principle of Solidarity


I mentioned the preamble to the American Constitution. Solidarity is also the driving idea of the European Union. Article A of Title I of the the Maastricht Treaty states: ‘By this Treaty, the High Contracting Parties establish among themselves a European Union, hereinafter called "the Union". This Treaty marks a new stage in the process of creating an ever closer union among the peoples of Europe, in which decisions are taken as closely as possible to the citizen. The Union shall be founded on the European Communities, supplemented by the policies and forms of cooperation established by this Treaty. Its task shall be to organize, in a manner demonstrating consistency and solidarity, relations between the Member States and between their peoples.” (You can see the hands of the resistors to “union” in the clause about taking decisions “as closely as possible to the citizen” right after the statement of purpose for “an ever closer union.” This clause all but takes the steam out of the drive for union motivating the Treaty.)

Although in both the American Constitution and the Maastricht Treaty union or solidarity is the first aim of their creations—the American Republic in one case and the European Union in the other—those who advocate greater solidarity or a “more perfect union” than now exists either in Europe or the United States almost invariably have been put on the intellectual defensive by those loudly pointing to the Tenth Amendment or individual rights or the principle of subsidiarity in resistance to common or central government action, because the benefits of union have never been adequately conceived and articulated.

Thus in the Maastricht Treaty the principle of subsidiarity is specifically mentioned at least twice, and it is formally framed in the Union Glossary, but there is no comparable mention of a principle of solidarity. Instead, Article B of Title I enumerates several specific projects that are intended to produce the “ever closer union” mentioned in Article A. Nevertheless, neither “solidarity” nor “union” is even listed in the Glossary.

In the United States, our overwhelming British constitutional inheritance is the struggle to limit the powers the king in the name of the liberties of Englishmen. Our founders dispensed with the crown. Therefore, they worked on limiting the power of the government, whence our Bill of Rights, never mind that the first sentence of the Constitution speaks of a contrasting ideal. The Tenth Amendment is a statement of the subsidiarity principle. But as to what a “more perfect union” is, well, the whole Constitution defines such a union as the founders envisioned it, but there is no statement of a principle of union or solidarity. The result is that to many people who advocate extremely limited government, it is not even clear that the American union is much more than the mere sum of its parts.

The situation is not much helped by the Church teachings, which try to balance the discussion of subsidiarity with repeated reference to the “common good”: a venerable idea, to be sure, but not a very energetic one. The Church actually has a much more powerful ideational tool in its toolbox to argue for stronger union. I mean the concept and reality of love as displayed by Jesus—His feeling of another’s feelings—and the consequent “solidarity” that the Church reserves for talking religion. But it does not bring the idea into play in its discourse on worldly matters for a reason, and that reasons lies in the intellectually tenuous relationship between some of the deepest revelations of the New Testament, including the phenomenon of love, with the Christian theology that got systematized in the thirteenth century through whose prism the Church tries to see the world outside.

This general intellectual condition has an explanation. It is Aristotle, according to whose metaphysics, the ultimately real entities in the world that we can unambiguously point to as “this” and “not that” are individual things like chairs, houses, trees, individual human beings, each with an enduring nature. For Aristotle, this world, this universe consists of such entities or “primary beings” and their properties. Relations between or among such entities have less or a subordinate reality. Whether you like it or are aware of it, in the crunch most people in the Western world continue to think the Aristotelian way.

In contrast, the concept of solidarity, of union, if you will, is first and foremost a concept of activity and relations, and in Aristotelian metaphysics activities are secondary to the primary entities or things or individual human beings each with an unchanging nature and the latter’s mutual relations are properties of those primary beings, and both have an inferior claim to reality than the things or primary beings themselves. Of course, in the actual existence or experience of men and women, relations, activities, experiences are as real and concrete as anything there is. But if you are a philosopher—and the principle of solidarity is inescapably a philosophical principle—you have a very serious problem. Philosophers are supposed to be interested in reality. What do you do with something that is not quite real? That is the reason that solidarity as a decisive principle has eluded political thinkers through the ages. Aristotelian metaphysics remains the foundation of Christian theology, whence also the Church’s intellectual disabilities.

Yet, if Aristotle had lived in the twentieth or twenty-first century, his metaphysics would most assuredly not have taken the form it did. After all, Aristotle was a biologist, a great one, too, and nothing has done more to reveal the wondrous solidarities at play throughout this earthly world we live in than modern biology. Look at a human being. Yahoo Answers (what a great thing the Internet is!) says that nobody is quite sure, but perhaps anywhere between ten to a hundred trillion cells make up a human body. Each cell is itself a living thing with its own individual freedom and spontaneity, so far as that goes in a cell. Many of them get together and form various organs, muscles, the central nervous system, the skeletal system, which, too, are individually “alive” over and above their constituent cells. Above them all presides the individual human being, who, again, is more than merely her “body” or bodily parts. Neurophysiologists can use all the scanners they want and scan the human brain as much as they like; they will not get a human thought, feeling, or experience—the most concrete expression of human existence—out of the scans, though they may find physical activities occurring in various parts of the brain at the time of one or another experience. Moreover, a thought, a belief, a mere vague feeling of the man or woman can on their own “drive” or stimulate not only more brain activities, but also “actions” by the whole body such as physical motion, and again, no scanner, no physiological test will find that feeling or thought or, indeed, the spring of individual freedom or spontaneity that defines that human being as distinguished from her body.

(Where biological lives are concerned, there are further the genetic factors that manage to keep the single-cell zygote’s splitting and growing within such boundaries as will ensure that the resulting organism is ultimately a well-formed human being or dog or, as the case may be, a tree, each with finely tuned physiological functions. These genetic factors do not concern us here, though the idea of the biological solidarities I just spoke of must be qualified by our understanding of the genetic process.)

What is pertinent to our present discussion, however, is the phenomenon of biological solidarity. It illustrates very vividly the memorably succinct description by Alfred North Whitehead of the process of creative advance in the universe in which the many become one and are increased by one. Although Whitehead was actually talking about even more fundamental units of becoming, here in biological life we have many individually living things becoming one, which is itself a living thing, thereby adding to the count of living things. Think of all the joys and sorrows, satisfaction and disappointments that have marked your life. The world is made richer, the world of values is increased by that addition, that union of the many into one that is you. This addition to the world’s values is the ultimate justification of the union. But note the construction of the second part Whitehead’s description: “are increased by one.” He does not say the “the many increase themselves by one.” What he means is that in the act of the many becoming one, this new entity promptly assumes its own status as a self-determining free entity. Hence it increases the many by one. I increased the universe of living human beings by one additional such being when the cells and organs of the fetus got together in my mother’s womb and took human form and I became.

Now, when individual human beings come together to form various human solidarities—friendships, families, business enterprises, cities, nations, etc.—do we create new “living” entities with their own independent experiences over and above yours and mine? No, and there is nothing in the horizon of biological evolution even to suggest that we might. As Robert Nozick says, societies do not feel or think; you and I do. But that does not mean that a friendship of two people is just the sum of two individuals. Nor does it mean that Nozick is right in holding that, therefore, where the state is concerned, all that is justified is a minimal state that is little more than a “mutual protection society.”

It is not an accident that all of Plato’s public writings are in dialogue form. What dialogues can illustrate more vividly than a straight exposition is how the creativity or freedom of one person can feed on the creativity of another such as to ascend the steps of understanding in mutual cooperation that one person working on his own cannot easily do. Thus, all the major human enterprises—intellectual, artistic, religious, commercial, political, industrial—are the works of many people fueling one another’s creative energy. At the very least, we step on the shoulders of those who have gone before us. Existence is activity; it is experience and feelings and actions, all of which can be enlarged in scope and depth by human solidarities.

Furthermore, where two contemporaries are concerned, when they share a common understanding, say, there is a togetherness of thought, of feelings. But by reason of this togetherness of feelings, they also enjoy a feeling of togetherness, which is something more and which cannot be experienced by a person not in communion with another; and this feeling of togetherness is again felt together. This togetherness of feelings fueling a feeling of being together, which, in turn, then further adds to the togetherness of feelings, is what makes up human solidarities. The added richness of existence, of warmth, even merely of the strength of numbers as well as the mutual support in the joint ascent of life is what immediately justifies human solidarities of all kinds: families, business enterprises, institution of learning, cities and nations.

When we come to consider the state or government, moreover, what can you recall of the England before the Norman Conquest? Probably not much, because it was a rather forgettable place, not much of a nation to speak of. Most certainly it was peripheral to the European civilization, whose continental center of gravity was even then shifting from Rome to Paris. That also meant that individual lives in England before 1066 had relatively little scope. But after the Conquest England quickly became a significant factor in Europe. This was not only because the Normans owned a large swath of France, but also because the Norman kings were imaginative and vigorous rulers. Thus twenty years after the Conquest William brought about the compilation of Domesday Book, a census, the first of its kind after the Roman Empire, of all landowners in the kingdom and their individual worth in land and livestock. The purpose was of course more energetic and effective taxation. A century later came the glorious reign of Henry II, during which the king’s law came to prevail over disparate baronial rule and became common throughout the land: the beginning of the common law tradition. A more vigorous government brought about a more energetic feeling of nationhood; the people became more “one people,” as such became more “powerful.” Although the immediate effect of this increased English “power” was endless European wars, especially wars with France, an undeniable fact is that individual English lives—the ultimate loci of satisfaction, of values—came to have larger scope.

In the case of the United States, had we not our federal government as created by the Constitution, “Americans” would not be astride the world today, not that we have always, especially in recent years, behaved wisely as the first among equals in the family of nations. A great nation is capable of greater undertakings, hence greater achievements than lesser nations. That also means that citizens of great nations in some respects have greater scope in their lives than citizens of lesser nations. This is a truth, if you want, a fact that the British have consistently failed to grasp in fighting against greater European Union; their Euro-scepticism has impoverished the life possibilities of their citizens.

The principle of solidarity or union is, therefore, one of the many joining together in order that the life of each and every individual member as well as group of members is enriched as a result, including the creation of a rich, vigorous sense of togetherness. We work together in order to feel together, and feel together so that we can all the better work together, thus jointly ascend to ever-greater heights of existence.

The principle of solidarity is closely allied to the principle of justice and of equality, because injustice and inequality divide, where solidarity is togetherness. In its most general rendering, as Plato only partially succeeded in elaborating, justice is an aesthetic ideal; it is ideal harmony such as is meant by the French word “juste” in “let mot juste”: just right. In practice social and political justice has been most successfully achieved through the rule of law and procedural fairness in our judicial system. When both are working right, they can approximate substantive justice when laws are involved, but there can be no guarantees. Far less successful has been our achievement of distributive justice, as blatantly and all too frequently illustrated by recent developments in the United States where wages for most workers stagnate, even decline, even as corporate chief executives reward themselves with ever more obscene munificence, sometimes even when they are driving their companies to the ground.

The most majestic elaboration of the concept of justice since Plato’s Republic is John Rawls’. This concept, according to Rawls, is governed by two principles. The first principle says (John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 302), “Each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive system of equal basic liberties compatible with a similar system of liberty for all.” The second principle is “Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are both: (a) to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged, consistent with the just savings principle, and (b) attached to offices and positions open to all under conditions of fair equality of opportunity.” To these principles Rawls adds two “priority rules,” the first of which states, “the principles of justice are to be ranked in lexical order and therefore liberty can be restricted only for the sake of liberty. There are two cases: (a) a less extensive liberty must strengthen the total system of liberty shared by all; (b) a less than equal liberty must be acceptable to those with the lesser liberty.” The second rule concerns the priority of justice over efficiency and welfare.

To me, the key to Rawls’ theory lies in how the two principles of justice are phrased: “Each person is to have…” and “Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that…” Who is or is to be the arranger? Although to Rawls liberty is the primary value, the way he talks about liberty is wholly devoid of the sense of life and motion that is the essence of freedom, so that the second principle “Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are…to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged” almost has a self-destructive effect. By this I mean that whoever makes such arrangements precisely by making them will rob or destroy much of the benefit, in this case the satisfaction of actively achieving greater justice, to the intended beneficiaries, unless it is the least advantaged themselves who take the actions to get the arrangements made.

When something is given to you, it can just as easily be taken away; it is also never as precious as if you earned it yourself. It is only when you create, earn, or seize it yourself by compelling the public recognition of your self-creation that you are likely to be able to keep it. This is especially so in social and economic welfare. Thus, the history of British-American liberties is one in which one group after another seized their liberties and never let them go again: the Church, though in this case her special liberties were first “conferred” by the Roman Emperor Theodosius, the merchants and manufacturers of the medieval towns and cities, the feudal barons under the Norman kings, the English lawyers who led the struggles against the Stuarts, the lawyers, businessmen, and plantation owners who founded the United States, the industrial workers who organized themselves into unions to combat industrial exploitation, and more recently blacks, women, and other minority groups. In each case, those who led the struggles managed to carry a whole class or group of people with them to enjoy the fruits of victory, but there were invariably laggards and omissions or exclusions. Thus, the founders of the American Republic not only did not provide for women or blacks, but they also did not specifically enfranchise the unpropertied. The black leaders of our civil rights movement have mostly done well, and a significant black middle class has grown in the United States, but there remains a huge black underclass that is still mired the vicious circle of poverty, failure of education, unemployment, hence more poverty and often crime, from generation to generation.

My point is that life is freedom, activity, exertion or struggle: self-creation. Justice and equality are most effectively created by the seizure of equality by the least advantaged, ideally by means of undeniable self-achievement. Those who have the power to make or extend the kind of arrangements for justice that Rawls argues for, therefore, can best use their power to energize that seizure. And I do not think it even necessary to make the seizure easy, because it is to the advantage of everyone to have to sharpen their skills and strengthen their creativity by struggle, though due allowances must always be made for those among us who, through no fault of their own, are limited in their abilities.

In this way, we are back to where we began with Citizen Solidarity First Step: citizens joining together to take American democracy to a new stage of development where America becomes, in the founders’ words, “a more perfect union,” a denser and more buoyant solidarity, in virtue of our more complete individual participation in the shaping of our common efforts: national goals as well as the action plans to achieve those goals.

The interstate commerce clause in our Constitution as vigorously and imaginatively interpreted by John Marshall has provided the Constitutional basis for a vigorous exercise of federal powers over states’ rights. But here are two more general criteria for what is appropriate for federal government action: apart from powers that the Constitution specifically confers on or reserves for the federal government, everything that is systemic to the American society as a whole as well as everything that affects the members of this society universally are also proper candidates for government action. An imaginative conception of commerce will probably make the interstate commerce clause coextensive with these two criteria, but system and universality are more commonplace ideas than a particular Constitutional provision as interpreted through arguments and counter-arguments in a Supreme Court opinion.

The power to conduct foreign policy is Constitutionally reserved for the President, though always subject to the advice and consent of the Senate. Global warming is evidently a systemic problem that also affects us universally. Our economic welfare has systemic aspects that also call for federal policy. Social Security and Medicare are the only two federal programs for which we are all equally eligible. They have done more to bind Americans into one people than any other federal initiatives except in fighting the First and Second World Wars. They are also directed at a universal problem, where in old age we are less able to take care of ourselves. Healthcare and education are also universal concerns. Both have also systemic characters that need correction. Illegal immigration agitates many Americans. Given the explosive growth in the international traffic in goods and services, it is probably worthwhile to take up the traffic of human beings as well, and immigration is clearly a national issue.

There are many other issues that are also proper for the federal government to address, but I think if we just address what I just enumerated, we will probably have already bitten off more than we can chew for now.

                                                                                                                                  12/2007



The Next Stage in the Development of American Democracy

Yen-Ling Chang

1. Democracy, rights, and welfare


Modern Western democracies have had a good four-hundred-year run since the Union of Utrecht gave birth to the glorious but tragically short-lived Dutch Republic, so much so that today freedom, equality more or less, democracy, and the rule of law are largely realized facts throughout the Western world and universal ideals where they are yet to be attained, notwithstanding the periodic assault on the rule of law and our Bill of Rights by one or another presidential administration.

Even in China and Myanmar, Iran as well, the question is no longer whether these ideals will triumph, but when and how, though the when may be a very long time because the starting-point is so low, and in the case of China, because the population is so large, the society so complex, and the weight of the past so heavy. I waive any detailed argument against those who lose heart with one massacre or coup d’état or even a whole string of them. To them all I say, read British constitutional history from the Magna Carta to the Declaration of Rights (474 years), or French history since the Revolution of 1789 through the First Republic, a Reign of Terror, then the Napoleonic coup d’état and Empire, the Bourbon Restoration, Second Republic, Second Empire, Third, Fourth, and finally Fifth Republics (169 years). They must think very little of our own constitutional and political achievements if they expect other societies springing from very different pasts and with no tradition of systematic political thought nor a direct inheritance from the Socratic tradition of actively seeking and promoting, hence also tolerating relentless criticism of ideas to be able to secure the same fruits of freedom and law in a mere generation or two or even a hundred years.

In any case, in a general way and within the limits of their understanding the fighters for freedom in those countries where freedom has yet to prevail know exactly what they want. They want the rule of law, representative government, and intellectual, artistic, religious, and political tolerance much as we enjoy them in the United States and Western Europe. I say they know this “in a general way,” because with the possible exception of Aung Sang Suu Kyi, neither by living experience nor by book-learning do they seem to understand the details of how such a society and its political system actually work. The students at Tiananmen Square in 1989 certainly had only the vaguest idea of what a free society was. Nevertheless, their general aims have been laid out for them in any such summary of the political achievements of the modern West as I just gave. It is here in the cradles of modern democracy, however, that the same ideals, though still necessary, no longer suffice for our lives, that is, for the creation of our future.

I do not mean that either the civil rights movement or the women’s movement, for example, is finished. But both are programmatically and legislatively, hence institutionally pretty much finished. Such discriminatory practices as remain derive primarily from institutional and individual inertia on the one hand—it is hard to change fundamental feelings and attitudes as well as institutional make-ups in less than two, three, four generations—and from poverty and consequent deprivation on the other more than from racist or sexist policies. It would be tyrannical to legislate against feelings, ideas, attitudes, in many cases even institutional compositions. If we are right to oppose racial and sexual discrimination, as I am sure we are, then we must have the faith that confronted with effective criticism, the prejudices will gradually fade away with the increasing multitude and magnitude of black and female self-achievement and with the dying of generations, as analogous discrimination among the governing classes against the common people once did before. This process is necessarily slow. Witness the century that elapsed between the Emancipation Proclamation and the Voting Rights Act. Many may find this slowness unsatisfactory, even intolerable. But if you want abiding solutions, then you must await the transformation of the mentality of millions, which sometimes only the passing of generations can yield. This does not mean that we must not directly combat such discrimination where it manifests itself, but ideas and feelings do not yield to force.

Persistent, structural poverty is another matter. We exhausted effective policy ideas to secure its decisive and systematic elimination in the context of a more or less self-sufficient American economy only to find the persistent problem further complicated by an accelerating global economic transformation. What we do not know how to fix, we cannot decisively fix, which is no reason not to try, but ignorance and failure of imagination limit our effectiveness. Even so, we have been able to shrink the percentage of our population in poverty, so that on the whole, with the majority of Americans, perhaps even black people and women, the interests have moved on, as they must if the vigor of life is to be sustained.

In the United States the fruitions such as they are of the civil rights and women’s movements represent the crowning achievements in the realization of our founding ideals. For the moment Coke and Locke and Jefferson and Madison and Hamilton have very little more to say to us about the creative labor awaiting us in the coming decades and century.

Nor, for that matter, did they figure in the struggle to overcome the appalling misery visited on industrial workers by the industrial revolution. When the founders of the United States were framing our Constitutional documents, the industrial revolution was already astir in Britain, but not yet significantly on this continent. Hamilton wanted to embrace manufacturing, whereas Jefferson feared that it would foster a mentality of dependence among the workers. In either case the facts of the industrial revolution were largely irrelevant to the founders’ constitutional labors. That is why it was not the Magna Carta nor the Petition of Right nor the British Declaration and American Bill of Rights that men and women turned to when faced with the industrial horrors documented in Marx’s Das Kapital or the inhuman division between the Two Worlds depicted by Disraeli, Lord Beaconsfield. Instead, it was Jeremy Bentham’s utilitarianism and the various schools of socialism as well as the plain Christian love underlying both that saved the Western democracies from the excesses and inhumanity of the industrial revolution. The spate of constitutional challenges mounted against FDR’s New Deal legislation testified to the doubts about the constitutional provenance of utilitarian thought and political liberalism.

In truth, as I see it, the fundamental impulse of both utilitarian and socialist thought and the “liberal” political movement associated with them is in at least two respects radically at variance with the impulse that fueled the British-American constitutional struggles culminating in the founding of the United States and the ratification of our Bill of Rights.

First, when the Magna Carta barons rebelled against King John, they were objecting to his arbitrary ways. To John, as to the hapless Richard II, deposed and murdered in 1399 for saying it, the law was “in his breast”; he was himself beyond the reach of law. The historic greatness of the Magna Carta barons lay in their decision not to overthrow John and replace him with another, as countless risings against injustice before and after them and everywhere around the world would and continue to do to tyrants—including America’s repeated attempts at “regime change” in other countries, a pretentious political science expression for arbitrarily overthrowing governments we do not like, which is contrary to the United Nations Charter—but to insist on bringing royal conduct under law as it was understood others were under law. In this way, the Magna Carta barons set England in principle on the road to the rule of law as perhaps no other society before had known except the short-lived Athenian democracy or Republican Rome. It was to be a nearly five-hundred-year struggle to translate this principle into fact, because John’s successors down to James II, no less than John himself, would continually claim exemptions for themselves. But the Great Charter and the “rights of Englishmen” that slowly grew on the English imagination would become the rallying cry against royal despotism which British kings could not dismiss as a matter of course because King John had committed himself and all his successors to them.

Though by the Glorious Revolution of 1689 political power in the United Kingdom was decisively transferred from crown to Parliament, Parliament itself showed in its conduct toward the American colonists in the eighteenth century that it was not necessary to occupy the throne to be tempted by arbitrary power. So the struggle against the crown that had animated British constitutional development through the seventeenth century had to be reenacted against Parliament by fellow Englishmen in America in the eighteenth century; and the founders of the United States were at pains to ensure that no analogous tyranny could ever arise under our Constitution. (And yet, George W. Bush has now created a military commission, and with the consent of Congress, too!)

From 1215 through the ratification of the American Bill of Rights, therefore, the British-American constitutional development was overwhelmingly aimed at limiting the power of government, though in Britain this meant government primarily in the person of the king or queen, because once power was transferred to Parliament, Parliament has to this day remained reluctant to limit its own power, for example undo its own immunity to judicial review. But every article of the American Bill of Rights is a statement of what government must not do or trespass. In direct contrast, the spirit of utilitarianism, socialism, and liberalism is all about what government actively ought or must do or bring about. No wonder some upholders of our constitutional tradition were horrified. The question then arises, whether any tradition, however precious, should be so sanctified as to foreclose the possibility of solving urgent problems never anticipated by the founders of that tradition.

The Magna Carta barons also stood up first and foremost for their own interests as a class. No better evidence of this class interest can be found than in that chapter of the Charter in which the barons claimed for themselves a right to justice of their “peers.” John’s concession of the Charter notwithstanding, this particular “right” future English monarchs would wisely and consistently refuse to admit. The reason was that the “king’s justice,” first promulgated by John’s father, Henry II, and common throughout the realm, hence the “common” law, in contrast to the variable baronial justice that had prevailed before, was good enough for all. But in thus trying to advance their own class interest the barons merely followed in the footsteps of earlier class ascendancies or assertions marking British, indeed, Western constitutional history. For example, another provision of the Magna Carta reconfirmed the rights and liberties that had earlier been granted the city of London and “other cities and burroughs, and town and ports.”

As the wanderings of barbarian armies slowed and the Dark Ages in Europe slowly gave way to light, medieval trade gave rise to a new merchant class who had more money than ever the landed aristocracy and clergy could command. This money secular and ecclesiastic princes alike coveted, and the price for the loans and gifts that went their way was special liberties for the merchant class, which is to say, the cities and towns where it held sway.

Even earlier the Church had won her special liberties from the Roman Emperor Theodosius, which she retained even after the disintegration of the Empire. Chapter 1 of the Magna Carta reconfirms the English Church’s rights and liberties, and in the United States churches remain exempt from taxes, and we continue to hold their status as sanctuary to be inviolate.

In due course new classes of men would rise in power and stature in England sufficient for them to make their constitutional claims stick. Lawyers, for example, came into prominence in the parliamentary struggles against the Stuart kings, as they would in the American Revolution. That in each case they took care of their own kind first and foremost is demonstrated by the extremely limited franchise prevailing in both England and the United States at the end of the eighteenth century, franchise fraught with income and property qualifications, as Tocqueville found here early in the next century.

I must not, however, press this point too far. No human being can be entirely insentient of his essential fellowship with other human beings, and Jesus’ teaching of the universal brotherhood of men could not have been too far from the thoughts and actions of thoughtful men. So the Magna Carta contains several provisions securing the rights of all “freemen” to their properties, in their persons, and in judicial proceedings. By the time of Edward III, according to the Petition of Right of 1628, the same claims came to be stated in universal terms: “No man, of whatever estate or condition that he be, should be” deprived of these several rights. And we are familiar with how our own founders stated their claims in decisively universal terms, though they did not immediately provide for them universally.

Words were one thing and deeds another. The claim “All men are created equal” in the Declaration of Independence clearly did not apply to slaves where the Constitution specifically required them to be counted each as only three-fifth of a person, and that for census purposes only, which is to say, for weighing the votes and taxes of those entitled to vote, which slaves and women were not. That is why black people and women in America ultimately have had to take their struggles into their own hands, but in doing so they have had the words of the founders on their side. And I say, in this way these struggles for black and women’s liberation were in direct line of inheritance of the British-American constitutional struggles, where a succession of classes or groups of people lifted themselves up in self-creation and asserted their rights by the power or importance of their self-achievement. And it is entirely right that this should be so, because, after all, what is freedom but self-creation, in contrast to creation or determination by others, which is tyranny?

In contrast, the nineteenth- and late-eighteenth-century utilitarian and socialist concerns were first voiced for those mired in the soot and grimes of industrial exploitation by men with lily-white hands: Bentham, Robert Owens, Saint-Simon, Marx, Disraeli. These men wanted to do good for others. This essentially altruistic impulse underlying utilitarianism and socialism represents their second departure from the classical British-American constitutional traditions.

It is, however, precisely because of this character that the practical success of putting utilitarian and socialist ideas to work is almost guaranteed to be problematical, as the practical success of Christian charity has always been. The reason is that, if one is determined to help oneself, success is usually a matter of time. So, whether or not they explicitly recognized their indebtedness to utilitarian or socialist thought, the laboring men and women in the Western world have raised themselves through command of skilled labor and combined their power of skills with union action. On the other hand, however determined one may be to help another, there is never any assurance of success unless the criterion of success is trivially defined or defined primarily in terms of the labor of the helper. This is again because human beings are by nature free, which means self-creative. With all the vigor and good will in the world we cannot urge forward the lives of men and women who cannot or do not sufficiently stir themselves or who come to take help for granted. Further, and this the recent public discussions of welfare reform have not sufficiently taken into account, in any community of significant size there will always be men and women hobbled by disabilities, and it is well to remember that intellectual, technological, industrial, and commercial advances are continually raising the bar on the individual capabilities needed to achieve a reasonable measure of self-sufficiency in the modern society, which is also to say, they may be continually increasing the number of people who cannot achieve that self-sufficiency for reasons not of their own making.

So the twentieth-century social welfare programs have inevitably bumped up against the limits of what such programs can do for the less fortunate in our midst. This is as true in Europe as in the United States. Also, in proportion as the civil rights and women’s movements have taken on the character of helping others instead of self-help, they, too, are reaching a limit to their effectiveness.

After the initial flush of success and when the assistance programs settled into routine with no conclusive triumph over poverty, ignorance, and unending dependence in sight—not that this triumph can ever be complete—reactions have inevitably set in. The welfare reform signed into American law in 1996 represents a culmination of these reactions. Similarly, opposition to affirmative action programs has been rising. The New Deal and Great Society chapter in our history has run its course; a great idealistic experiment spanning a century of buoyant American political life has exhausted its power as the dominant driver of civilization. So far no superseding political ideas have been forthcoming.

It is perhaps this intellectual or philosophical exhaustion that gave rise to the feelings of irritability and futility infecting American and Western European political life, until 9/11 and “terrorism” took over all our senses. But the fundamental problem is long standing and will remain long after the distraction of the Islamic revolt against an overbearing West has faded into memory, unless we can overcome it in the meantime.

2. The next stage in the development of modern democracy


Two centuries have elapsed since the founding of the American Republic. Democracy and the rule of law have been secured throughout Western Europe and north of the Rio Grande as well as Australia and New Zealand. They are also in various stages of growing depth and stability in India, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, and South Africa. In the United States they have been enhanced by the constitutional assertion, hence inclusion, of women and racial minorities, and by the effective advancement of the welfare of the laboring classes such that the latter, too, became middle class if for the moment we can overlook the once again rising number of the “working poor” in the new competitive economy of recent years. Notwithstanding the last, the foundations of Western democracies are now so much more solid than they were even fifty years ago because the bounties of freedom and equality are spread so wide. Our constitutional traditions as well as utilitarian and democratic socialist thought have done their work and, not least, spared the Western world of Marxist-inspired upheavals that have wreaked havoc on less fortunate societies.

Although the eradication of poverty amid plenty remains unfinished, and the nature of this problem is changing even as I write, the overwhelming majority of the peoples in the West no longer knows the sting of perpetual hunger and want, which have been the lot of a huge volume, perhaps even the majority of humanity through the millennia. For this present majority in the West, which can take freedom, equality, and economic security more or less for granted, the challenge of life has moved on to that last, elusive promise in our Declaration of Independence: the pursuit of happiness. Since the English word “happiness” carries a long history of imprecision of meaning, however, let me substitute for it the more precise expression “the height of existence,” after Alfred North Whitehead. The pursuit of the height of existence—self-realization or actualization is a more familiar if vaguer term—has a private component; it is reflected in the many-faceted exploration of creative or religious and spiritual life characteristic of our age. It has also a public component, which has so far been barely understood and is of main interest to me here.

Consider the following statistics. In 1870 there were 67,350 male college students in the United States. In 1910 the number of male and female college students reached 355,215. Aided by the GI Bill, college enrollment rose to 2,230,000 in 1948. Today it exceeds seventeen million. In 1869 one in 1927 men of college age went on to college. Today two-thirds of all men and women of eligible age do so. More than forty million Americans are college graduates. Even those who have no college experience mostly have more schooling under their belt than their forebears not long ago.

Whatever one may think of the quality of American education—and at its best in not just one or two or a handful of colleges and universities, but dozens of them, it is unsurpassed in the world—you cannot so dramatically change the average mentality of a society without also profoundly transforming its political complexion.

Consider a family in which the parents are only high school or elementary school graduates. Suppose they send a son or daughter to college. What will become of this family, which is to say the complex web of relationships binding the members of the family? These relationships will inevitably be transformed by the understanding and intellectual confidence and command conferred by college education on the child. If nothing else, the college student, later graduate will likely claim a measure of autonomy in ideas, beliefs, and action significantly greater than if she had not gone to college.

The same claim of intellectual and moral autonomy multiplied millions of times is today crowding our national decision-making. This is reflected in the proliferation of organized interest groups that have converged on Washington and state capitals, the mushrooming nongovernmental organizations working every conceivable cause under the sun, as well as the frequency and political magnitude of voter-initiated ballot actions. More than ever before, millions and millions of American citizens want to play a more active part in the formation of public policies and the legislative process affecting our lives than merely casting ballots for political candidates at periodic intervals. We remain formally and constitutionally a representative democracy, but the mentality of men and women who think and act for ourselves demands a governance more participatory in nature. This demand, which is psychological and not necessarily explicit, our political class has so far not fully understood, still less responded to.

There was a rule in ancient Roman private law, known to at least some of the drafters of the Magna Carta, which says, quod omnes tangit, ab omnibus approbetur (“what touches all ought to be approved by all,” Justinian Code V, Tit. 59, 5, cap. 3.). This rule underlies our political theory of consent. I note that it says nothing about representative consent. When we in the modern world agreed to representative democracy, however, we understood that modern societies had become too populous and geographically extended for direct democracy of the Athenian kind to be practically feasible. But we believe that consent is constitutionally required because we know and feel its psychological necessity, and the latter is often indifferent to constitutional or political compromises. When, therefore, there is not adequate popular consent, no legislation nor, in the United States, even Supreme Court decisions are secure, and no great national effort can be successful.

What is true of our national political life is in this case also true of businesses and corporations, for that matter, any organization where increasingly brains counts for more than brawn. Those who are accustomed to using their brains want their brains and creative imagination to count in more than just narrowly specialized areas of work.

The history of American business in the nineteenth century was marked by a great managerial revolution in which owners of businesses increasingly turned over the management of their ever more complex business activities to “professional” managers, who knew, for example, how to schedule trains running on hundreds of miles of single tracks so that they would not collide: decisions more complex and fraught with greater risks than had ever been encountered in running stagecoaches. Among the early recruits to this new managerial class were many military men, the country having just been through a great Civil War. Therefore, the military model of command and control characterized the early operations of many of America’s great corporations. This habit of management as giving commands and exercising effective control remains strong.

Nevertheless, more and more businesses have come to appreciate that people who are being paid for their understanding and imagination especially will not be satisfied with being told what to do. There is a growing psychological demand that “what touches all ... be approved by all,” more, that it be shaped or constructed by all. While it may not be feasible to consult on everything, businesses nevertheless have begun to adapt, which is one important reason for the trend toward flatter corporate organizations and ever more consultative way of business decision-making. It is also the reason that chief executives increasingly understand that at the height of corporate decision-making their function in respect to corporate strategy is increasingly to preside over a process of strategy formation involving extensive consultation up and down and across the management hierarchy. This is not to say that they may not begin by projecting their own strategic vision and that this vision may not survive the consultation and criticism intact, but without the consultation there can be no assurance of effective consent or buy-in, hence no assurance of effort at effective, hence successful implementation.

In the United States presidents have never been able to tell the Congress what laws to pass and then expect his will to be done. Legislation has always required the building of Congressional consensus, often a painstaking process. But the explosive growth of organized interest groups and nongovernmental organizations in recent decades indicates that even such consensus as Washington was used to building is no longer enough for American voters. So far organized interest group politics has reinforced the corruption of our political process by money, as indicated by the repeated campaign financing scandals, but they also point to the possibilities of more energetic, hence satisfying, political solidarities in the United States and the Western world.

Government of laws remains our ideal, largely realized in the United States. But as Saint Paul indicated to the Galatians, laws are themselves not the end nor the ultimate ideal. Also, love is oblivious of laws. Laws are inevitably compulsory in its application. Where there is compulsion, freedom is compromised, as are the buoyancy and satisfaction of life. Communal solidarity is also less than what it can be, because there is then the inevitable divergence of feeling between the institutions, which is to say people, who do the compelling and those who submit or are made to submit. Increasing citizen participation in the formation of public policies means that there can be deeper, wider, and more spontaneous solidarities of public action arising from freely given consent. Such solidarities may be secured and institutionalized by laws, but are themselves the primary good, not the laws.

In my judgment nothing Bill Clinton did as President ever equaled in brilliance his organization and conduct of the national economic summit in Little Rock shortly after his electoral victory in 1992 and before his inauguration. Although some opportunities opened up by this summit—for example, the consensus on the need to rationalize America’s health care system—were squandered by subsequent political ineptitude of the administration, the agreement on attaching economic priority to bringing the federal budget into balance held throughout the Clinton presidency, powerfully reinforcing the monetary discipline exercised by the Federal Reserve. The American economy then hummed along and soon achieved the best shape in nearly three decades.

That national economic summit disclosed political possibilities that unfortunately the Clinton administration failed to advance. The kind of consensus built for balancing the federal budget can also be built for other national efforts: for example, on environmental protection in general and global warming in particular; combating the once again growing inequality of income and wealth in America; improving American education; heath care again along with a long-term solution to the looming Social Security and Medicare funding problems, not to mention a coherent foreign policy. And what could not be achieved in one concerted three-day conference may yet yield to more sustained series of concentrated national discourse.

Governing America has never been merely a matter of passing legislation and executing it through regulations. Lincoln’s power as President was as much moral as executive and military. So also were the Roosevelts’. Better-educated Americans may no longer respond well to preaching as from a bully pulpit, but will eagerly embrace imaginative invitations to more active political participation. Such participation is becoming ever more feasible on a massive scale because of recent technological innovations.

The dream I am offering for the next stage in the Western world’s political development is, therefore, the possibility of new solidarities of public action invested with the creative spontaneity of millions of citizens who now yearn for more active participation in the political process than merely going to the polls. It is the transformation of modern representative democracies into something more directly participatory without violating either the letter or the spirit of our constitutions. This is one dream that, in the United States, can supersede the dreams of the New Deal and the Great Society without repudiating them; indeed, it is precisely what is needed to take them to greater heights of realization. After all, given the recent economic transformations of the United States and the world, we need to reach for a deeper national consensus if are to effectively bridge the once again growing economic divide between the haves and have-nots. We certainly need the active cooperation and participation of every American if we are to prevent global warming from reaching a stage of no return beyond any human ability to safeguard the long-term existence of our species on earth.

Just as important, our feeling of national belonging, of being one people and one nation will be enriched by effectively working together on the details of great issues.

In 1984 Gary Hart’s presidential ambition was undone by his own monkey business, but his campaign rhetoric about “new ideas” was also decisively punctured by Walter Mondale’s inimitable echo of a line from Wendy’s commercial, “Where’s the beef?” The same complaint was directed at the talk of “holistic government” and “changing the whole culture” urged on Tony Blair’s Labour government in its early days by the British think tank Demos. Yet, the lure of “new ideas” persist.

Whether what I just suggested amounts to beef others will have to judge, but if adopted, it will surely amount to a different “reinvention” of government. But it is not really “reinvention” so much as advancing the nature of our democracy. And I salute Ségolène Royal for taking precisely this step in France in her desir d’avenir, even if ultimately her quest for the presidency was unsuccessful.

So now amid the cacophony of presidential candidates’ policy proposals let us, the people and voters, come work together on the vital issues confronting America.

(Website link coming within the week.)                                                            12/3/2007