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The Unquiet Grave Part II : Edmund Burke’s Challenge for Objectivism

By Walter Donway

January 7, 2020

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Part I of The Unquiet Grave can be accessed here: The Unquiet Grave: Ayn Rand Declared Conservatism Dead in 1960
 

Ayn Rand wrote-off the philosophy of conservatism as worse than useless.

Ayn Rand wrote-off the philosophy of conservatism as worse than useless. In doing so, she focused on contemporary conservatism’s refusal to defend capitalism in moral terms. It was a refusal, she charged, to face the contradiction between capitalism and Christian morality (altruism). But she did not address the classic conservative argument relevant to Objectivism: Edmund Burke’s critique of “rationalistic, ideological utopias” as prescriptions for the “new man,” the new social order, and the ideal government. Utopias implemented in the 20th Century were unimaginable human disasters driven forward by those who believed in their logic and truth against all historical experience, all accumulated human wisdom, and all emerging evidence of catastrophe. It was an astounding confirmation of the conservative critique of the utopian vision. Did this have implications for the “Utopia of Greed”? Ayn Rand never seemed to ask.

Many political terms, including “conservative,” came into use during and after the French Revolution. Conservative (1818) described the Bourbon Restoration, which went well beyond the “reaction” (another new term) that sought to rein-in the Revolution’s murderous excesses.

Naturally, there were conservatives before the word was used. The Tory tradition in England, beginning with Richard Hooker, predates 1600. But conservatism may have had its “finest hour” in the French Revolution. Edmund Burke, the famous member of the British House of Commons, born in Dublin, Ireland, became identified with thundering opposition to the French Revolution. Almost definitive of his brand of conservatism, he was at the same time a champion of the American Revolution (although not independence). A close associate of his was the philosopher, David Hume.

In statements of Burke and Hume emerged a powerful premise of conservatism: opposition to political “rationalism” and utopianism.

In statements of Burke and Hume emerged a powerful premise of conservatism: opposition to political “rationalism” and utopianism. Their fundamental orientation often is obscured by conservatism’s spectrum of specific policies and causes at different points in history. An example just mentioned is Burke’s contrasting positions on the French and American Revolutions. Because of this, his views are characterized as a “mixture of liberal and conservative.” But how defining of “conservative” is Burke’s opposition to the fanatical bloodshed of the guillotine? Burke’s positions were support for the “liberal” ideal of private property and Adam Smith’s free-market economics. He also said that business should operate within the principles of social tradition. He wished to limit the power of the Crown and favored an established church, but with toleration for other religions.

So varied are those contexts that “conservatism” at times appears to have no fixed meaning at all.

These positions exemplify the logic of conservatism; the time and place in history inevitably influence what exists to be conserved. So varied are those contexts that “conservatism” at times appears to have no fixed meaning at all.

What endures across these contexts is a philosophy of social and political change foundational to the politics of Burke and Hume. It is the conviction that the justification of any social order must be sought in tradition: the wisdom of mankind earned and refined through experience (often purchased at horrific cost in blood and suffering). The experience of a community that has achieved a hard-won social harmony is more valuable a guide to human flourishing in society than any rationalistic, utopian philosophy for transforming mankind according to a vision of “the new man.”

As Objectivists, we are accustomed to the bluntest statements of philosophical principles: for example, a terse declaration in absolute terms of our “rights.”

As Objectivists, we are accustomed to the bluntest statements of philosophical principles: for example, a terse declaration in absolute terms of our “rights.” Burke therefore may be frustrating. He abhorred “metaphysical distinctions” and avoided any declaration outside of the context of all that impinged upon it. For a statement of his political philosophy, the best I can do is quote from his famous “Reflections on the Revolution in France,” a pamphlet published after a year of revision and expansion in November 1790 (and an immediate bestseller in English and French).

 

The Ancient Constitution of Government

In his pamphlet, Burke was replying to a statement (a sermon) asserting that the principles of the Glorious Revolution of 1688 included “the right to choose our own governors, to cashier them for misconduct, and to frame a government for ourselves.” Burke’s opposition to the idea of resting the case for political liberty on a philosophical (abstract) concept of “rights” inherent in human nature (that is, metaphysical) is evident, here:

The Revolution was made to preserve our ancient indisputable laws and liberties, and that antient constitution of government which is our only security for law and liberty. … The very idea of the fabrication of a new government, is enough to fill us with disgust and horror. We wished at the period of the Revolution, and do now wish, to derive all we possess as an inheritance from our forefathers. Upon that body and stock of inheritance we have taken care not to … [graft any alien element]. … Our oldest reform … is that of Magna Carta. You will see that Sir Edward Coke, that great oracle of our law, and indeed all the great men who follow him, to Blackstone, are industrious to prove the pedigree of our liberties. They endeavor to prove that the ancient charter … was nothing more than a re-affirmance of the still more ancient standing law of the kingdom. […] In the famous law […] called the Petition of Right, the parliament says to the king, “Your subjects have inherited this freedom,” claiming their franchises not on abstract principles “as the rights of men,” but as the rights of Englishmen, and as a patrimony derived from their forefathers.

We see here at least three pillars of conservative doctrine:

1) Rejection of the abstract statement of philosophical principles or of terms such as “rights;”

2) A powerful appeal to the traditions that have shaped and defined life as it is in the present day; and

3) The evocation of a context of political acts, of interpretations provided by historic spokesmen, and of the experience and expectations of earlier generations.

When he made this statement, Burke knew only of the French Revolution as an example of abrupt, sweeping change to overthrow the established order in the name of newly coined “rights,” and usher in violent death, the fatal rupture of lives, and decades of human deprivation, suffering, and stagnation.

Today, we inherit the long experience of the Russian Revolution of 1917, the National Socialist (Nazi) revolution of the 1930s, the Chinese Communist Revolution of the late 1940s, the Cuban Revolution of 1959, the African revolutions of the 1960s and after (e.g., creating Zimbabwe), the Iranian Revolution of 1979 … to name but a few …

These embody a diametrical opposition to the first premise of Burke’s conservatism: the primacy of the stability of the social change—any social order—under which people had built their lives, families, and communities. And that diametrical opposite—revolutionary change—was the foremost catastrophe beyond even war in the 20th century.

Each such revolution had its convinced, visionary, utopian intellectuals and its “committed” political cadres. To them, no price was too high to pay to achieve the metamorphosis of human nature, the social order, and the political system. Out with the loathed status quo and in with the ideal.

 

Edmund Burke’s Challenge to Rationalistic Utopia

Were these catastrophes inherent in change driven by a rationalistic, utopian vision? Or did the catastrophe lay in the evil of the proposed utopian vision?

More than half-a-century has passed since Objectivist philosophy came on the scene, but few conservatives have embraced it. Aside from so-called “libertarian conservatives” (whom Ayn Rand anathematized), the conservative majority have not been tempted by her inspired vision of a 100 percent laissez-faire political system set in a resolutely secular order mandated by “reason as an absolute,” embracing no tradition for tradition’s sake.

Does conservative rejection of Objectivism—in some instances, a consciously articulated rejection of Objectivism’s “extremism” (insistence that principles be held with total consistency)—proceed from conservative abhorrence of rationalistic utopianism (Ayn Rand fashioned Galt’s Gulch as “the Utopia of Greed”)?

Of course, Ayn Rand, and anyone embracing her philosophy, condemns unreservedly the revolutions of the 20th century: their ideals (collectivism and statism), their methods (violent overthrow), and their record (murderous dictatorship, disastrous socialistic economies, eclipse of human rights).

In contrast, Objectivism advocates a strictly limited government delegated to protect citizens from crime and foreign invasion; complete freedom of choice and action of every individual consistent with recognizing the same rights of others; and a resulting laissez-faire market economy unregulated except for recourse to civil suits for varieties of fraud.

To Objectivists, no less that this is required for consistent recognition of individual rights in a radically (at root) free society: banning the initiation of physical force—including emphatically by governments—from all human relationships. All human activity, organization, and functions revert to the private and voluntary.

 

Thinking in Principles

The entire Objectivist utopian ideal in politics rests on a single premise: Man’s fundamental means of survival is reason. More exactly, his use of reason. Reasoning is an attribute of the individual. Therefore, if man’s life is our standard, each must be left free to act upon his reason, his judgment. There are implications: for example, the individual has a right to the property he creates by acting. Consistency, however, requires each of us to have the same rights, so my freedom of action cannot include forcing your reason. The only way for me to do that is by using physical force. If you are not stopped by force, you are able to act on your judgment, whatever the incentives involved. (Yes, you are free if you are starving.)

But that reason is fundamental to man’s survival means only that his other important means of survival would not exist without reason. And, man does have other means of survival, some arguably more important (but no more fundamental) than reason. Other crucial means of human survival are language, gaining knowledge, development habits and attitudes, and, above all, living in society. All these are related but not hierarchical, except for the base, which is reason. We can’t say that after that comes language, then society … or the opposite, either.

We can say that society really makes possible language, knowledge, division of labor, survival of many dangerous and temporary disasters (e.g., serious wounds).

What if at a certain stage, a society would not have survived without collecting taxes for government?

What if a stable, flourishing society, including knowledge, language, and all its other benefits requires some initiation of force? What if at a certain stage, a society would not have survived without collecting taxes for government? (At another stage, a society might find a way around that.) What if a certain society at a certain stage would not survive without limiting speech criticizing another religion? What if a society would not survive, at a given point, without conscription? What if society’s survival requires the principle: Initiation of force against individuals is justified only if society’s survival is at stake, the force must be the minimal amount required, it must be under objective guidance, and must stop when no longer needed?

One might object: That so-called “principle” is way too complex to be implemented and sustained.  But has the apparently simpler principle of no initiation of force against any individual ever been implemented and sustained?

Not every principle has the same epistemological standing as “Water is composed of one oxygen atom and two hydrogen atoms.” Or water seeks its own level within a certain range of temperature and pressure and assuming the law of gravity.”

For example, Ayn Rand brilliantly enunciated “The Anatomy of Compromise,” arguing that in any competition, the most consistent principle that is consistently asserted will defeat its rivals. That is not a principle like the chemical composition of water. It is based upon understanding how reason grasps and uses principles, the power of consistency for the reasoning mind—and observation of how arguments have tended to play out in history.

If principle No.1—that reason is man’s fundamental means of survival and operates only when free from initiation of force—is implemented incompletely in a society, and the exceptions are justified by reference to principle No.2—that a stable, flourishing society is also indispensable to man’s survival—will principle No.1 inevitably be doomed to defeat?

How would you make that argument for “rationalistic consistency” to the Burkean conservative who maintained, instead, that the accumulated experience of the society, and others before it, strongly commended the “compromise of principle” described above?

 

Imagining the “Obvious” New Utopia of Objectivism

And yet, for Objectivists, the single principle of reason’s fundamentality, and the single logical consequence (no initiation of force against any individual), are enough to support utter certainty about the nature of political utopia. They resolve centuries of debate over the ideal political society and social order. They lead to a vision of government new under the sun, never before achieved on earth: Eliminate any government involvement in any economy such as regulation, money, banking, trade, natural resources, ports and harbors, airports and airlines; eliminate government involvement in any welfare state activity at any level; get government in any form or role out of education at any level; no government involvement in infrastructure such as roads and bridges and highways. To Objectivists, this simply represents logical consistency beginning with the irrefutable principle of reason’s fundamentality to survival.

It is a social order and government almost unimaginable. Try to imagine continuing the functions of police, courts, and military, but subtract from the picture any other government activity of any kind, at any level. It is not easy to do so: Government today—local, county, state, federal—is so pervasive we scarcely notice most of its activities.

My goal here is not to detail an Objectivist utopia, only to make real the view of the future that Objectivists regard as a long-overdue ideal. And yet, it is a vision, an imagined new society that most Americans would strain to begin to imagine in any detail. I doubt that any of us can.

Do conservatives see in this edifice of reason, logic, and philosophical system-building the classic threat perceived by Burke? That is, radical overturning of a social order in which people have rooted their lives, families, communities, traditions, and plans and expectations?

Can anyone foresee the consequences of such change? Objectivists have long debated the details of “how things would work” in “complete freedom.” But is it possible, even roughly, to project the impact on hundreds of millions of individual lives?

Consider as a metaphor the market order versus the centrally commanded economy. No centrally generated methodology known to us can take the place of the “spontaneous market order” created by billions of individual choices, trades, prices, agreements, entrepreneurial investments and projects, organizations, and other individual plans and consumer preferences.

In what direction does this metaphor “cut” for the Burkean versus the Objectivist view of social change? Is the complete utopian system Ayn Rand designed like the centrally directed economy with millions of lives transformed allegedly for the best by the new system most never conceived?

A right-minded government, however, would dismantle itself across the board, in every sphere of activity, on every level.

Or is the Objectivist utopia like the spontaneous market order because it envisions imposing no decision, no action, no regulation … no coerced change on anyone? Objectivists see argument, persuasion, and education as the avenues to this radically changed society. “People” would be forced to do nothing. A right-minded government, however, would dismantle itself across the board, in every sphere of activity, on every level—as though a vast military camp of millions of soldiers folded its tents, packed its equipment and supplies, and decamped from Washington, state capitals, town halls—departed as individuals never to reassemble.

Is this radical prescription supported by tradition, the accumulated and refined experience and wisdom of mankind about conserving a stable, workable social order? Is it “conservative” in the sense that Edmund Burke saw the American Revolution as conservative (because it was justified in the long British tradition of reclaiming the “rights of Englishmen” against a usurping, increasingly despotic British crown)?

But wouldn’t implementing the Objectivist utopia be “radical” or “conservative” depending upon the projected timeline? To me, it is astonishing that Ayn Rand, to my knowledge, never hinted at such a timeline. An associate of hers told me she had worked out the order in which the gargantuan government should be dismantled. I would have expected such realism. But this is not a counter to the Burkean objection to the utopian blueprint. Objectivism would be asserting that there is a reasoned plan for radical change of a social and political order to be implemented (for example) over the next 50 years. A permanently valid utopian prescription for human society merely awaits implementation. In a century, a half century, a quarter century? The sooner the better.

Objectivists could argue, with much logic and evidence, that their utopia is in the American tradition of constitutionally limited government, individualism and individual rights, capitalism and the market order, and reliance on private initiative and private arrangements to accomplish great ends. Those principles, which made America the freest, most economically productive, longest-standing stable democracy, now must be implemented consistently. All are under attack by their opposite: anti-Enlightenment ideals of collectivism, socialism, and statism that devastated Europe in the 20th century.

There is not much writing by conservatives criticizing the Objectivist utopian vision in the light of Burkean premises. And, as I have said, conservatives have been very far from flocking to the Objectivist standard, despite a considerable overlap in policy positions. But, then, Ayn Rand wrote them their obituary in 1960. Did she expect the reanimated legions of demised conservatives to find their way to Objectivism?

Conservatives, including libertarian conservatives, may see no incentive for a dialogue with the politically inconsequential tiny minority of Objectivists. Also, Objectivists would applaud a society without churches, are fiery advocates of the right to abortion, and tend to scorn such slogans as “family values”: that ends the discussion, for many conservatives, before it begins.

I, for one, would like to see Objectivists test their “rationalistic utopian” ideology by trying to market it to conservatives. This essay—call it a “meditation”—is my opening gambit.

 

 

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