The Politics of Faith and the Politics of Scepticism.
Hartle, Ann
Oakeshott, Michael. Edited by Timothy Fuller. New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1996. xx + 139 pp. Cloth, $25.0--The question which
this book addresses is "What shall governments do?"
Oakeshott's aim is to understand the practices of and thoughts
about government that have dominated the modern European world. Put more
precisely, his question is: "What is the character of modern
politics that makes its practice run to ambivalence and its vocabulary
run to equivocation?" (p. 19) The most fundamental distinction that
can help us to sort through this ambivalence and equivocation is that
between "the politics of faith" and "the politics of
scepticism," two opposed styles of politics whose interaction is
the concordia discors of the past five centuries of European politics.
Oakeshott identifies three sources or starting places for inquiry
concerning political things: practice, our talk about politics, and
considered writing. Practice is primordial and is reflected in speech
and writing. The inquiry proceeds on three levels which correspond to
these three sources.
With respect to practice, Oakeshott begins by laying out the
essence of the politics of faith and skepticism, takes us through the
"fortunes" of each, then locates the nemesis of each in its
own essence. The politics of faith understands government to be in the
service of the perfection of mankind, a perfection to be achieved by
human effort alone. Governing involves the control and organization of
human activity in pursuit of this ideal of perfection. The politics of
skepticism sees governing as detached from the pursuit of perfection.
Its first object is the maintenance of order so that a variety of
activities can be pursued undirected by government.
Historically, both the politics of faith and of skepticism proceed
from the same source, the "enormous enlargement of power that marks
the beginning of modernity, the mastery of man over his world. The most
significant change that occurs in the passage from medieval to modern
life is "the gradual disappearance of the intermediate authorities
which had formerly stood between a then weak central government and the
subjects, leaving them naked before a power which in its magnitude was
becoming comparable to a force of nature" (p. 49). This power came
to be spoken of as "sovereignty." At this point, the
enlargement of power pulled in the direction of faith while the
concomitant narrowing in the specification of government pulled in the
direction of skepticism. Oakeshott identifies two versions of the
politics of faith, the religious version exemplified by Puritan
politics, and the economic version manifested in various forms of
"productivist" society such as "mercantilism" and
ultimately socialism and communism. The two greatest failures of the
politics of skepticism are its alliance with the politics of Natural
Rights and its alliance with modern republicanism.
Each of the two opposed styles contains within itself the source
of its own destruction. The politics of faith needs immense power to
subdue society and direct all activity to a single end. No price is too
high to pay for perfection. Hence, there is nothing to prevent the
degradation of living men as a spring to this perfection. "In this
twilight, doctors will dream of rapid advances that might be made in
medicine if they were supplied with expendable human subjects for
experiment" (p. 99). The poor who cannot defend themselves will
become material for social experiment. The politics of faith has no
inherent means of limiting itself. "The politics of Terror. . .
sleeps in every version of government as the pursuit of perfection"
(p. 94), and where perfection is identified with security, the condition
of the subject will be that of a slave. Absolute security is absolute
precariousness. The nemesis of the politics of skepticism arises out of
the severe self-limitation that belongs to its essence. Here, the danger
is political quietism. The disposition of the skeptic is to reduce
politics to play.
At the second level of inquiry, Francis Bacon and the philosophes
of the eighteenth century represent the politics of faith. Montaigne,
who had no illusions about power, is a skeptic. So also are Machiavelli,
Spinoza, Pascal, Hobbes, Hume, Burke, and Hegel. In spite of all this
philosophical skepticism, in practice, the politics of faith remains
ascendant. Oakeshott concludes that "there is no better starting
place for a renewed attempt to understand and to modernize the
principles of the skeptical tradition in our politics than a study of
Pascal and Hume" (p. 129).
At the third level of inquiry, we must begin from the ambiguity
that springs from the fact that the politics of faith and of skepticism
share a common language. For we do not have a scientific, univocal,
political language, but only a living, popular language. The politics of
faith regards this ambiguity as worthless. The politics of skepticism,
and Oakeshott himself, regard it as good in the sense that it allows a
space for the conversation of diverse activities.
What, then, is the point of Oakeshott's inquiry if not to
eliminate ambiguity? Here, the subtlety of Oakeshott's thought, his
clarity about his own activity, and his Montaignian character come
through most forcefully. Although our own circumstances do not permit
the remedy of Confucius--"the one thing necessary is the
rectification of names"--Oakeshott proposes as his task a more
modest version: "To have perceived the ground and the range of the
ambiguity is to have deprived it of some of its power to confuse"
(p. 130). And although it is clear that, philosophically, Oakeshott is
on the side of the skeptics, he advocates a holding back from the
extremes in practice. His account is meant to serve as a guide for
political reasoning, so that we may enjoy the virtues and avoid the
vices of our own political situation. He himself is an exemplar of the
"larger sympathy for our political predicament" (p. 19) that
he wants this inquiry to foster.
This book was an untitled typescript found among Oakeshott's
papers after his death in 1990. Timothy Fuller's introduction is a
genuinely philosophical appreciation of Oakeshott's thought.
Certainly, we can add the study of Oakeshott to that of Pascal, Hume,
and Montaigne as a starting place for the renewal of the skeptical
tradition.