Blue Labour, One-Nation Labour and Postliberalism: a Christian Socialist Reading

1 Blue Labour, One-Nation Labour and Postliberalism: A Christian Socialist Reading John Milbank Within the British Labour party, ‘Blue Labour’ has now been reborn as ‘One- Nation Labour’, after its leader Ed Miliband’s consecration of the phrase. As a mark of this new politics, he and his brother David are now proposing to adopt a ‘living wage’, rather than a mere minimum wage as party policy, in the wake of the successful campaign for the same in London waged by London Citizens. With its overtones of ‘a family wage’ as long backed by Papal social teaching, this flagship policy would seem to symbolise a new combination of economic egalitarianism with (an updated) social conservatism. Such a combination is crucially characteristic of the new ‘postliberal’ politics in the United Kingdom, which seeks to combine greater economic justice with a new role for individual virtue and public honour. But to understand what this new politics means and does not mean, it is necessary to attend closely to the intended sense of both ‘post’ and ‘liberal’. ‘Post’ is different from ‘pre’ and implies not that liberalism is all bad, but that it has inherent limits and problems. ‘Liberal’ may immediately suggest to many an easygoing and optimistic outlook. Yet ‘postliberals’ are by no means invoking a kind of Daily Mail resentment of pleasures out of provincial reach. To the contrary, at the core of its critique of liberalism lies the accusation that it is a far too gloomy political philosophy. How can such a case be made? Well, very simply, liberalism assumes that we are basically self-interested, fearful, greedy and egotistic creatures, unable to see beyond our own selfish needs and instincts. This is the founding assumption of the th 1 individualistic liberal creed, derived from Grotius, Hobbes and Locke in the 17 C.0F Such a position sounds, as it is, basically secular and materialistic. However, another important root of modern liberalism, traceable for example in Adam Smith, 1 See Jean-Claude Michéa, The Realm of Lesser Evil: An Essay on Liberal Civilisation (Cambridge: Polity, 2009)trans. David Fernbach. Michéa is important for much that follows. For a similar thesis see also John Milbank, Theology and Social Theory (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), 9-47, 278-442. 2 derives from an extreme ‘Augustinian’ theology in both Calvinistic and Jansenistic versions. For this theological outlook (which was not that of Augustine himself), original sin is so extreme that human beings must be considered to be by nature ‘totally depraved’. Augustine had spoken of ‘the second best peace’ which is not that of loving harmony achieved under grace, but of a rough-and-ready ‘law and order’ achieved through legal justice and tolerant civility. But now the extremists thought of this second best peace as not involving human virtue at all. Rather, divine providence manipulated our egotistic wills and even our vices behind our backs, in such a way as to make will balance will and vice balance vice to produce a kind of economic and political harmony, even though this had never been intended by self-obsessed 2 individuals.1F In this way we can see how liberalism has been doubly promoted, for oddly coinciding reasons, by both hedonists and puritans. Even today the British Conservative Party, which has long since abandoned toryism for liberalism, remains something of an uneasy alliance between these two different character traits. However, neither would exactly seem to apply to the Guardian-reader type liberal, whom we more usually take today to define liberalism as such. Why does the fit appear so poor? The answer is that there is another, ‘romantic’ variant of liberalism that was invented in the late 18th C by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The latter thinker inverted Thomas Hobbes by arguing that the isolated, natural individual is ‘good’, lost in contemplative delight at the world around him, satisfied with simple pleasures and provisions. She is not yet egotistic, because that vice arises from rivalry and comparison. However, Rousseau took the latter to be so endemic a motivation once the individual is placed in a social context, that he transferred pessimism about the individual into a new pessimism about human association. This led to a scepticism about the role of corporate bodies beneath the level of the state: for it is only the state -- more readily, it must be said for Rousseau, in the case of a small city-state like Geneva – that can lead us to sacrifice all our petty rivalries 2 See Serge Latouche, L’Invention de l’économie (Paris: Albin Michel, 2005) and Milbank, Theology and Social Theory, 26-47. 3 for the sake of the common purpose or general will which will return to us, at a higher 3 level, our natural isolated innocence. 2F The problem with this vision is that the state – especially one uprooted from custom and tradition as Rousseau required – will not really stand above the interests of faction and sectional intrigue. And meanwhile the concentration of all power in the centre will just as effectively undermine the immediate bonds of trust between people as does the operation of impersonal market forces. The invocation of Rousseau allows us more easily to locate the Guardian reader. While the Financial Times sort of ‘right wing’ liberal takes a basically gloomy view of the individual, the Guardian reader takes a basically gloomy view of society. This verdict may well seem to be counter-intuitive. Isn’t the political right suspicious of anything public and the political left unwilling to trust individual liberty very far? But at the deepest level the contrast is the other way round: right-wing liberalism is so cynical about individual motivation that it entrusts social order to the public mechanism of the market and legal protection of property by the state. The liberal left, on the other hand, so distrusts shared tradition and consensus that it endlessly seeks to release individual desire from any sort of generally-shared requirements, which it always tends to view as arbitrary. Of course, the realisation of this goal often takes paradoxical forms: the state intervenes in order to try to remove perceived unfair advantages of birth that restrict freedom of choice; education is provided in order to increase the bounds of rational choice for each and all; increasingly many freedoms are restricted because they are held to inhibit the freedoms of others. Even where better health and environments are imposed upon people for their own good, that is seen in terms of eventually improving the scope of freedom and of channelling more money and resources into more positive projects with the same aim. Such a conjunction holds because liberal negative freedom of choice and the idea of happiness as mere material utility are deeply linked. For if there are no higher spiritual values that human beings ‘should’ choose, then the realm in which our various arbitrary choices will be exercised has to be essentially a material one, whether we know this or not. Some will like their meat lean and others fat, but in 3 See Jeremiah Alberg, A Reinterpretation of Rousseau: a Religious System (London: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2007). 4 either case it is a matter of food. And if some strange people still like going to church before Sunday lunch, then no doubt that is really a matter of working up an appetite. But what matters for liberalism is allowing people to have as much choice over food and other material goods as possible. If some right-wing liberals think people should be left to eat themselves to death if they so choose and other left-wing liberals demur, then the latter only do so because they think that thereby individuals are depriving themselves of the full range of life and a longer time in which such choice might be exercised. In this instance, as in others, right and left liberals converge far more than they imagine. For in either case what is basically celebrated is individual desire. And in either case human association or relationship is distrusted, since it is held that it is bound to be perversely motivated. The right holds that the remedy for warped relationships is the hidden hand of the marketplace; the left the manifest hand of the state. But in either case ‘society’ is bypassed and human beings are mediated indirectly, by a third pole standing over against them. This is why the often misunderstood talk in recent times of ‘the big society’ and ‘the good society’ is so momentous: in principle it denotes the return to political validity of fundamental human association. This return can be symbolised by George Orwell’s dissenting but genuinely 4 ‘socialist’ trust in ‘common decency’.3F People have always lived through practices of reciprocity, though giving, gratitude and giving again in turn. By way of this process people achieve, in a simple way, mutual recognition and relationality. Most people pursue association and the honour and dignity of being recognised in significant ways, however lowly, as their main goals, and are relatively unconcerned with becoming much richer than their fellows or achieving great power over them. Indeed, most people wisely realise that such things will only increase their anxiety and insecurity – they prefer a less spectacular but quieter life. They are basically hobbits. Nevertheless, the temptation to pursue the goals of pride at the expense of danger is there in all of us; in some more than others and in some to an overwhelming degree that can threaten the social fabric. To say this is to return to a more balanced and genuinely Augustinian account of ‘original sin’ – refusing Calvinist and Jansenist 4 George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier (London: Penguin, 1989).

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