Why Leaders Lie: The Truth About Lying in International Politics

Here are some highlights from this 2011 book by John J. Mearsheimer:

* I argue that there are sometimes good strategic reasons for leaders to lie to other countries as well as to their own people. International lying, in other words, is not necessarily misconduct; in fact, it is often thought to be clever, necessary, and maybe even virtuous in some circumstances.

* statesmen and diplomats do not lie to each other very often.

* It is important to emphasize that in none of those cases were the president or his lieutenants lying for narrow personal gain. They thought that they were acting in the American national interest, which is not to say they acted wisely in every case. But the fact is that there are good strategic reasons for leaders to lie to their publics as well as to other countries. These practical logics almost always override well-known and widely accepted moral strictures against lying. Indeed, leaders sometimes think that they have a moral duty to lie to protect their country.

* In contrast to the international system, the structure of a state is hierarchic, not anarchic. In a well-ordered state, there is a higher authority—the state itself—to which individuals can turn for protection. Consequently, the incentives to cheat and lie that apply when states are dealing with each other usually do not apply to individuals within a state.

* In domestic politics, however, lying is generally considered wrong, save for some special circumstances, such as when individuals are bargaining over the price at which they would buy or sell a house, or when protecting an innocent person from wrongful harm.

* There is a simple explanation for these different attitudes toward domestic and international lying. A leader has no higher
obligation than to ensure the survival of his country. Yet states operate in an anarchic system where there is no higher authority that they can turn to if they are seriously threatened by another state.

* One can also make a moral case against lying within the confines of a state, because a well-defined community usually exists there, which is not the case in international politics. Thomas Hobbes put the point succinctly in Leviathan: “Before the names of Just, and Unjust can have place, there must be some coercive Power to compel men equally to the performance of their Covenants…. Where there is no Common-wealth, there nothing is Unjust.”

* Absolutists like Immanuel Kant and Augustine maintain that lying is always wrong and that it has hardly any positive effects. Lying, according to Kant, is “the greatest violation of man’s duty to himself.” Utilitarians, on the other hand, believe that lying sometimes makes sense, because it serves a useful social purpose; but other times it does not. The key is to determine when and why lying has positive utility.

* Lying is obviously a form of deception, but not all deception is lying. There are two other kinds of deception: concealment and spinning. Unlike lying, neither involves making a false statement or telling a story with a false bottom line. Concealment and spinning, however, are not the same as telling the truth. These two kinds of deception are pervasive in every realm of daily life, and they cause hardly a word of protest.

* Statesmen and diplomats are rarely punished for lying, especially if they were telling lies to other countries. Probably the only exception to this rule involves cases where it becomes known that a leader lied to his fellow citizens about a policy that
failed in ways that obviously damage the national interest.

* British statesman Henry Taylor: a “falsehood ceases to be a falsehood when it is understood on all sides that the truth is not expected to be spoken.”

* Sir Henry Wotton, the seventeenth-century British diplomat, once remarked that an ambassador is “an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of his country.”

* Israel lied to the United States in the 1960s about its nascent nuclear weapons program because it feared that Washington would force the Jewish state to shut down the project if it acknowledged what was really going on at the Dimona nuclear complex. “This is one program,” Henry Kissinger wrote in 1969, “on which the Israelis have persistently deceived us.” Another case in point was when the Soviets placed offensive missiles in Cuba in 1963 after they had repeatedly assured the Kennedy administration that they would not take that dangerous step. Their hope was to present the president “with a fait accompli.”

* Anarchy pushes states to be vigilant in their dealings with each other, especially when national security issues are at play. But that is not the case inside most states, where large numbers of people, including educated elites, are predisposed to trust their government, whose most important job, after all, is to protect them.

* Irving Kristol: “There are different kinds of truth for different kinds of people. There are truths appropriate for children; truths that are appropriate for students; truths that are appropriate for educated adults; and truths that are appropriate for highly educated adults, and the notion that there should be one set of truths available to everyone is a modern democratic fallacy. It doesn’t work.”

* Hitler, for example, closely monitored the German people’s thinking about all kinds of issues, and went to great lengths to ensure that his policies enjoyed widespread public support. His regime, as Ian Kershaw reminds us, was “acutely aware of the need to manufacture consensus.”

* Comparing the amount of threat inflation in each of the major powers during World War I illustrates how geography influences the rhetoric that leaders employ to describe their adversaries. There was much less fearmongering about the German threat in France and Russia than there was in Britain and the United States. This is hardly surprising, since the two Anglo-Saxon countries are offshore balancers; in contrast, France and Russia not only shared a border with the Kaiserreich, but they were also fighting the German army on their own territory.

* With the rise of nationalism over the past two centuries, numerous ethnic or national groups around the world have established or have tried to establish their own state, or what is commonly called a nation-state. In the process, each group has created its own sacred myths about the past that portray it in a favorable way and portray rival national groups in a negative light. MIT political scientist Stephen Van Evera argues that these chauvinist myths “come in three principal varieties: self-glorifying, self-whitewashing, and other-maligning.” Inventing these myths and purveying them widely invariably requires lying about the historical record as well as contemporary political events. “Historical error,” as the French political theorist Ernest Renan succinctly put it, “is a crucial factor in the creation of a nation.”

The elites who dominate a nation’s discourse are largely responsible for inventing its myths, and they do so for two main reasons. These false stories help fuel group solidarity; they help create a powerful sense of nationhood, which is essential for building and maintaining a viable nation-state. In particular, these fictions help give members of a national group the sense that they are part of a noble enterprise, which they should not only be proud of, but for which they should be willing to endure significant hardships, including fighting and dying if necessary.

* The creation of national myths, however, is not simply a case of elites concocting false stories and transmitting them to their publics. In fact, the common people invariably hunger for these myths; they want to be told stories about the past in which
they are portrayed as the white hats and opposing nations as the black hats. In effect, nationalist mythmaking is driven from
below as well as from above.

* In the wake of World War II, for example, German elites created the myth that their military—the Wehrmacht—had little to do with the mass killings of innocent civilians on the Eastern Front during that brutal war. It was said that the SS—which represented a much narrower slice of German society and was closely identified with Hitler—was largely responsible for those vast horrors. The Wehrmacht, according to this legend, had “clean hands.”

The United States largely bought into this false story during the early years of the Cold War, because it was then working closely with former Nazis, Nazi collaborators, and former members of the Wehrmacht, and also because it was committed to rehabilitating the German army and making it an integral part of NATO. Not surprisingly, as Christopher Simpson notes in his book about Washington’s recruitment of Nazis after Word War II, “a review of the more popular histories of the war published in the West during those years, with a few lonely exceptions, leaves the distinct impression that the savageries of the Holocaust were strictly the SS’s responsibility…”

* It is also sometimes feasible for a state with an influential diaspora to export its myths to the countries where the diaspora is located. Perhaps the best example of this phenomenon involves Israel and the American Jewish community. There was no way that the Zionists could create a Jewish state in Palestine without doing large-scale ethnic cleansing of the Arab population that had been living there for centuries. This point was widely recognized by the Zionist leadership well before Israel was created. The opportunity to expel the Palestinians came in early 1948 when fighting broke out between the Palestinians and the Zionists in the wake of the UN decision to partition Palestine into two states. The Zionists cleansed roughly 700,000 Palestinians from the land that became Israel, and adamantly refused to let them return to their homes once the fighting stopped. Of course, this was a story that cast Israel in the role of the victimizer and would make it difficult for the fledgling state to win friends and influence people around the world, especially in the United States.

Not surprisingly, Israel and its American friends went to great lengths after the events of 1948 to blame the expulsion of the Palestinians on the victims themselves. According to the myth that was invented, the Palestinians were not cleansed by the Zionists; instead, they were said to have fled their homes because the surrounding Arab countries told them to move out so that their armies could move in and drive the Jews into the sea. The Palestinians could then return home after the Jews had been cleansed from the land. This story was widely accepted not only in Israel but also in the United States for about four decades, and it played a key role in convincing many Americans to look favorably upon Israel in its ongoing conflict with the Palestinians. Israeli scholars, however, have demolished that myth and others over the past two decades, and the new history has slowly begun to affect the discourse in the United States about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in ways that make at least some Americans less sympathetic to Israel’s past and present actions toward the Palestinians.

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Constitutional Dictatorship: Its Dangers and Its Design

Here are some highlights from a 2010 paper in the Minnesota Law Review by two Yale University law professors, Sanford Levinson and Jack M. Balkin:

“I’m the commander-see, I don’t need to explain-I do not need to explain why I say things. That’s the interesting thing about being the president. Maybe somebody needs to explain to me why they say something, but I don’t feel like I owe anybody an explanation.” – George W. Bush

If Americans know one thing about their system of government, it is that they live in a democracy and that other, less fortunate people, live in dictatorships. Dictatorships are what democracies are not, the very opposite of representative government under a constitution.

The opposition between democracy and dictatorship, however, is greatly overstated. The term “dictatorship,” after all, began as a special constitutional office of the Roman Republic, granting a single person extraordinary emergency powers for a limited period of time. “Every man the least conversant in Roman story,” remarked Alexander Hamilton in The Federalist No. 70, “knows how often that republic was obliged to take refuge in the absolute power of a single man, under the formidable title of Dictator” to confront emergencies caused by insurrection, sedition, and external enemies. No political constitution was well designed, Hamilton believed, unless it could confront emergencies and provide for energetic executive powers to handle them. (Footnote (FT): Hamilton’s point was that Rome did not lose its “republican” character because it used dictatorships in emergencies.)

Under this view, dictatorship-the power of government officials to act on important matters free of accountability or timely legal checks-is not the opposite of democracy-or what our Constitution calls a “Republican Form of Government.” It is an institutional feature within constitutional democracies that can and should be employed to perform valuable civic functions. From this perspective, “dictatorship” becomes-as it was in the early Roman Republic-a term of description rather than a term of opprobrium.8 It refers to institutions and powers of emergency government that constitution makers might establish to serve the public interest. Indeed, if the institutions are properly designed, “dictatorship” might even have positive connotations-think only of the praise heaped on the legendary Cincinnatus.

* For the Framers, democracy was not the antithesis of dictatorship, either as a logical or an empirical matter. Democracy was a force that always had to be checked, and its passions cooled, in order to realize the benefits of republican government. Every republic known to the Framers—many of whom were steeped in ancient history—had eventually broken down and led to government by a strongman such as Julius Caesar. The lesson of the past seemed to be that the natural progression of popular governments was toward demagoguery and eventually tyranny; the most obvious example to the founding generation was the ill-fated English Revolution in 1640 and the rise of Oliver Cromwell as Lord Protector.

* in the liberal democracy of Great Britain, Winston Churchill would replace Neville Chamberlain as Prime Minister in May of 1940, and Britain’s political parties would agree to suspend the (unwritten) constitutional norms of parliamentary elections until the end of the war. Although still officially a democracy, there was no election in Great Britain between 1935 and 1945.

* A sovereign dictator uses a political crisis to overthrow the existing constitutional order and found a new one. A commissarial dictator, by contrast, is constituted by and given power by the existing political order; the dictator exercises power temporarily in a crisis in order to save the regime and return to the status quo as soon as practicably possible.

* Clinton Rossiter’s brilliant and troubling book, Constitutional Dictatorship: Crisis Government in the Modern Democracies, studied the responses of France, Great Britain, Germany, the United States, and ancient Rome to emergencies, real and perceived, including those generated by the Great Depression and World War II. Some of these emergencies involved problems of national security, and some were economic crises, including, of course, economic dislocations generated by war and its aftermath. Rossiter concluded that one constant in all the examples of emergency government he studied was the decision to adopt some form of dictatorship, validly legal or otherwise.

* Although we often oppose emergency to normal times, emergency and the problems of emergency government are always with us.

* if we assumed (which, thankfully, is not the case) that the American President has the power to initiate war, commandeer funds and resources for war, and conduct war at any time for any reason in any manner he pleases, he would be a constitutional dictator with respect to war and all matters related to war. That is because he would combine the
right to assess the need for military action with the power to carry it out and with the sole right to judge whether what he did was lawful. (He would not be a dictator with respect to a wide range of other matters, including, for example, environmental protection.) To the extent that the President may create rules in a certain area, apply them, and execute them on his own without the ability of anyone else in the system to check him, he is a law unto himself.

* Carl Schmitt offers perhaps the most chilling analysis of all. Although he recognizes the possibility of commissarial dictatorships, where the ultimate goal of dictatorship is restoring the status quo, he assumes that elements of the sovereign dictatorship always lurk in the background, waiting to emerge and to transform any existing political order. No matter how well designed a constitutional system might be, the true sovereign will always be able to escape the confines of that design and make exceptions to it.

* Emergency, or at least claims of emergency, are the standard cause and the standard justification for creating dictatorships.

* Machiavelli argued that republics should plan for emergency allocations of power in advance. Does the American constitution meet Machiavelli’s test? Does it adequately build the possibilities of emergency into its design, to avoid the dangers of inertia, impotence, and deadlock yet still preserve republican government? Recall Chief Justice John Marshall’s famous statement in M’Culloch v. Maryland that “[the] constitution [is] intended to endure for ages to come, and, consequently, to be adapted to the various crises of human affairs.” 95 Notably, the word “crises” is italicized in the original opinion. Nevertheless, the text of the American Constitution is remarkably devoid of specific clauses that give government officials emergency powers. The most relevant example is the Suspension Clause, which allocates to Congress (contra the views of Abraham Lincoln) the power to suspend the writ of habeas corpus, but only “in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion [when] the public Safety may require it.” Moreover, the Suspension Clause says nothing about other kinds of dangers, for example economic meltdowns, fires, floods and hurricanes, or even the invasion of a drug resistant virus. Nevertheless, constitutional emergencies may arise from many different sources.

* The first decade of the twenty-first century has made us all too aware of the various dangers that can plague our social orders; even the cost of terrorist attacks may pale in comparison to the damage wrought by tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, or dangerous viruses. Thus in 2009, the President of Mexico, Felipe Calderon, placed the entire country under a “state of emergency” because of the potential swine flu pandemic. As John Ackerman, chief editor of the Mexican Law Review has explained, this serves to: “concentrate political power in his hands…. [President Calderon] has authorized his health secretary to inspect and seize any person or possessions, set up check points, enter any building or house, ignore procurement rules, break up public gatherings, and close down entertainment venues. The decree states that this situation will continue ‘for as long as the emergency lasts.’. . . This action violates the Mexican Constitution, which normally requires the government to obtain a formal judicial order before violating citizens’ civil liberties. Even when combating a ‘grave threat’ to society, the president is constitutionally required to get congressional approval for any suspension of basic rights. There are no exceptions to this requirement.”

Ackerman notes that Latin America has a “long history of using states of emergency as ploys to … return to authoritarianism.”

* The most important place we might find elements of constitutional dictatorship in the United States is in the construction of the modern presidency and the executive branch more generally. The Constitution says that the President is vested with “the executive Power” of the United States105 and is “Commander in Chief” of the armed forces. It also says, notably, that “he shall take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed.” The modern President is far more powerful, and has far more resources at his disposal, than the Framers could possibly have imagined. To give only one example, the President is now commander-in-chief of a standing army of over a million people, with forces stationed all over the world, armed with weapons that no one in the eighteenth century could have envisioned. As the United States has become a global power, and as government has taken on increasing responsibilities—to meet the increasing expectations of its citizens—the presidency has gained ever greater power and discretion. Both the administrative and
regulatory state on the one hand, and the National Security State, on the other, offer plenty of opportunities for decisive action, whether it be bailing out financial institutions, announcing bank holidays, imposing quarantines, seizing contraband merchandise, intercepting communications, engaging in covert operations, bombing overseas targets, or moving American troops into harm’s way.

* Effective accountability may be lacking even if the President’s actions are public. Accountability is particularly problematic, however, if a President can keep his most controversial actions secret using the excuse of national security, if he enjoys multiple constitutional privileges against suit, if courts regularly defer to his
judgments about national security, and if Congress lacks effective oversight mechanisms to check his adventures.

* A President can be a constitutional dictator, then, to the extent that he is effectively insulated from hindrance and accountability with respect to a certain set of issues. The most obvious examples concern war, foreign policy, intelligence, and covert operations, but, as we shall see later on, the modern administrative state offers a number of opportunities in the domestic sphere to deal with economic meltdowns, health crises, floods, fires, and other domestic disasters.

* By the time Lincoln took the oath of office on March 4, 1861, several states had already seceded, joined by several more after the firing on Fort Sumter on April 12. Nevertheless, Lincoln delayed calling Congress into session until July 4. “The eleven weeks between the fall of Sumter and July 4, 1861,” Rossiter wrote, “constitute the most interesting single episode in the history of constitutional dictatorship. The simple fact that one man was the government of the United States . . . makes this the paragon of all democratic, constitutional dictatorships.”

Lincoln was quite busy during this period. He goaded the South into beginning the war by resupplying Fort Sumter; he unilaterally decided to initiate a legally debatable blockade of all Southern ports; and then, most (in)famously, he suspended habeas corpus,119 claiming that since Congress was away, somebody had to make the decision, and he was just the person to do it. Like any commissarial dictator, Lincoln argued that he acted only to save the republic, not to found a new regime, and that his actions, even if they appeared illegal, were all calculated to that end… Lord Bryce wrote that Lincoln was “almost a dictator . . . who wielded more authority than any single Englishman has done since Oliver Cromwell,” and Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. recounts Lincoln’s Secretary of State William H. Seward “exuberant[ly]” telling a correspondent for the London Times that “[w]e elect a king every four years and give him absolute power within certain limits, which after all he can interpret for himself.”

* the Framers recognized the danger that the emergence of tyrants posed to republics and adapted the impeachment process in part as an alternative to the traditional remedy of assassination.

* Presidents Truman, Eisenhower, and Kennedy. Each of them received advice from high-ranking military officers and other advisors that the United States should use its nuclear
monopoly (in the case of Truman131) or its advantage in arms (in the case of Eisenhower and Kennedy) to launch a preemptive attack on the Soviet Union and bring an end to what would then be a not-so-Cold War. (FT: Eisenhower’s advisors, who believed that the Soviets would soon develop a hydrogen bomb, advocated a preemptive strike against the Soviet Union while the United States still enjoyed a preponderance of atomic power, even if a few million Americans might be killed in the process.)

* Whether or not the 9/11 terrorist attacks “changed everything,” they certainly provided everything that a would-be constitutional dictator might wish for. Congress readily ceded broad new powers to the President, in the September 18, 2001 Authorization for Use of Military Force (AUMF),135 the USA PATRIOT Act of 2001,136 the Military Commissions Act of 2006,137 the Protect America Act of 2007,138 and the FISA Amendments Act of 2008.139 Indeed, every time the President asked for broad new authorities from Congress, he received them.140 What is remarkable is that given this record of acquiescence, the Bush Administration tried to grab still more discretionary power, through secret programs that violated existing law, and through theories of the President’s Article II powers that, it claimed, allowed the President to disregard any congressional regulations of his powers as commander-in-chief.

* Congress has been willing to delegate increasing amounts of power to the President in both domestic and foreign affairs over the years; and it is well worth asking whether the Constitution imposes any significant limits on this delegation.

* FDR’s successor, Harry Truman, began the use of atomic weapons in warfare;149 more important for the development of constitutional law, he unilaterally ordered the American military to resist the North Korean invasion of South Korea in June 1950.150 This was the first major war that the United States fought that did not receive the imprimatur of a congressional declaration. Historians and constitutional analysts increasingly view the Truman presidency as a crossing of the Rubicon toward the President’s unilateral power to order military force anytime and anywhere in the world. Truman also oversaw the creation of the modern National Security State, featuring permanent standing armies strewn around the globe and the creation of the Central Intelligence Agency, with its secret budgets, covert operations, and often tenuous relationship to human rights and the rule of law.

* The privilege to hide government operations from courts and from the general public as state secrets is an essential tool in the kit of any would-be dictator, and there is no reason to believe that the Obama Administration has repudiated it.156 It is perhaps even more valuable than the suspension of habeas corpus, which only allows the President to detain specific individuals.157 A broad state-secrets privilege ensures immunity from judicial scrutiny in a wide swathe of cases where the President may plausibly claim that national security requires complete judicial abstention. Usually he does not even have to support the claim with evidence, for that might undermine the security he seeks to
maintain.

* Kennedy’s acolyte Theodore Sorenson reports that at the time Kennedy estimated the odds of nuclear war at one in three. Interestingly enough, Abram Chayes, in his flattering portrayal of Kennedy’s conduct during the Crisis, did not suggest that there was anything amiss in Kennedy’s risking nuclear annihilation. Kennedy’s behavior seems even more potentially reckless if one accepts the argument made at the time—in secret, of course—by Defense Secretary Robert McNamara that the Cuban missiles in fact posed little or no
threat to actual American security. After all, the United States had an overwhelming nuclear stockpile and Soviet leaders surely believed that the United States would use it in response to any missiles fired from Cuba…

One of the reasons that Kennedy found himself in such a delicate situation was the fact that constitutionally required elections were about to take place for Congress, and Republican New York Senator Kenneth Keating, among others, was denouncing him for being soft on Soviet penetration of Cuba. Kennedy needed to retain healthy Democratic
majorities in both the House and Senate because he could not always depend on Southern Democrats to support his “New Frontier” agenda. Kennedy was also concerned about
his prospects for reelection in 1964.

* The central idea of constitutional dictatorship, after all, is that the President does not seize power.192 Rather, his power is bestowed on him, either by the Constitution directly, or, more likely, by framework statutes and authorizations passed by Congress. Presidents (or more correctly, the Presidents’ lawyers) tend to read these statutes and authorizations as broadly as possible, so that the President can have as free a hand as possible to save the nation. In fulfilling these authorizations, the President creates new institutions and mechanisms that, in turn, bestow new kinds of authority and new kinds of power. Thus, the great mistake of the Bush Administration was the assumption that presidents should go out of their way to claim power unilaterally. It is far more effective to ask for power and have it given. Then one can proliferate the powers of the office
through making broad constructions, through building institutions, and through issuing regulations.

* Nikita Khrushchev paid for his commendable caution [regarding the Cuban Missile crisis] with his job, which suggests a degree of accountability that made the Soviet leader significantly less of a full-scale dictator than most Americans assumed.

* John Yoo, the author of the notorious “torture memos,” has argued that, despite American objections to King George III, the President still enjoys the powers possessed by the English monarch at the time of the American Revolution. Although Parliament retained the powers of the purse, Yoo explains, the King possessed unbounded discretion over the use of military force.

* The most obvious elements of presidential dictatorship tend to be concentrated in areas of foreign policy, intelligence gathering, covert operations, and warfare. Presidents exercise far less unilateral control in domestic politics.

* President Bush began to lose political momentum precisely because he failed to act swiftly or deftly in the face of a domestic disaster, Hurricane Katrina. Since the Calling Forth Act of 1792, Congress has repeatedly created framework statutes that authorize presidents to respond to domestic emergencies.

[LF: Trump lost momentum in 2020 when he failed to act swiftly and deftly in reaction to Covid.]

* one thing dictators must do in emergencies is detain people who pose threats to public safety. The Public Health Service Act gives the Surgeon General, subject to the
approval of the Secretary of Health and Human Services, the authority “to make and enforce such regulations as in his judgment are necessary to prevent the introduction, transmission, or spread of communicable diseases from foreign countries into the States or possessions, or from one State or possession into any other State or possession.” Accordingly, the Surgeon General may order “inspection, fumigation, disinfection, sanitation, pest extermination, destruction of animals or articles found to be so infected or contaminated as to be sources of dangerous infection to human beings, and other measures, as in his judgment may be necessary.” The grant of authority may even provide for “apprehension, detention, or conditional release of individuals” if necessary “for the purpose of preventing the introduction, transmission, or spread of such communicable diseases as may be specified from time to time in Executive Orders of the President upon the recommendation of the Secretary, in consultation with the Surgeon General.” Or consider the steps the executive may take to meet the threat of imminent economic collapse.

* Bush’s actions match the traditional pattern. First, the President declares a crisis or emergency, then he asks for new powers, and, finally, Congress grants the request. However, Bush also sought to obtain additional emergency powers without asking for congressional approval in three areas: his policy on detentions and interrogation practices, his creation of military commissions, and his secret domestic surveillance programs. This was his great mistake, and the source of some of the most ardent (and well-deserved) criticism. Bush received pushback from the public and from the courts because he deviated from the traditional script for American Presidents seeking emergency authority. Instead of asking Congress for emergency powers, he simply asserted that he already possessed all the constitutional and legal authority he needed.

* Dictatorial power is almost inevitably dispersed in the modern administrative state. Policy questions in the modern state increasingly require specialized expertise. Even the
most able of presidents likely lack the detailed knowledge necessary for quick and decisive action. Consider this New York Times article, entitled Fed Chief Shifts Path, Inventing Policy in Crisis:

“As chairman of the Federal Reserve, Ben S. Bernanke has long argued that a central bank should base its policies as much as possible on consistent principles rather than seat-of-the-pants judgment. But now, as the meltdown in credit markets threatens major institutions on Wall Street and a recession appears inevitable, Mr. Bernanke is inventing policy on the fly.

“Modern monetary policy-making puts a lot of weight on rules, but there is no rule book for an economic crisis,” said Douglas W. Elmendorf, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution and a former Fed economist.

On Friday, the Federal Reserve seemed to toss out the rule book altogether when it assumed the role of white knight, temporarily bailing out Bear Stearns, one of Wall Street’s biggest firms, with a shortterm loan to help avoid a collapse that might send other dominoes falling.

At first glance, this seems like a remarkably Schmittian description of the role played by the Federal Reserve Board—and, more particularly, its Chair, Ben Bernanke. Schmitt’s “sovereign” is the person who can successfully define something as a “crisis” and then basically do whatever he or she thinks necessary to meet the crisis.263 But Ben Bernanke is not a sovereign dictator. He is a commissarial, or constitutional, dictator. He enjoys his power courtesy of congressional statute, the residue of a previous Administration’s demand for discretionary power in the face of a perceived emergency.

* The modern administrative state features a distributed dictatorship, spreading unreviewable power among a variety of different agencies, czars, and bureaucrats. In the economic crisis of 2008, President Bush was largely a figurehead, whether by choice or by circumstance. The Treasury Secretary and the Chairman of the Federal Reserve
made the key executive decisions.

The constitutional theory of the unitary executive, which was much touted during the Reagan Administration, is designed to preserve the President’s formal ability to control,
oversee, and hold accountable all members of the executive branch. It is no accident that this theory began to gain currency after the work of the executive branch became so variegated and specialized, and following the most dramatic ideological shift in the White House since Roosevelt’s replacement of Hoover in 1933. President Reagan’s lawyers were attracted to the theory of the unitary executive precisely because they felt, perhaps for good reason, that the administrative state was beyond their control, particularly with regard to civil service protected holdovers from previous administrations might not have shared the Reaganites’ ideological preferences. Moreover,
Stephen Skowronek has pointed out that the unitary executive theory arose during a period when the President and Congress were usually controlled by opposite parties: defenders
of a strong presidency viewed increased control over the bureaucracy as the best way to promote their policy goals without interference from opponents of the President. The theory of the unitary executive is a convenient fiction offered by lawyers to allow presidents to consolidate power within increasingly complex administrations that necessarily feature multiple centers of power and sources of authority. Asserting that the President actually has control over the entire Administration is a bit like the courtiers of King Canute who tried to flatter him by claiming that he could direct even the progress of the ocean’s tides.

In practice, of course, the President cannot effectively control many of the discretionary decisions made by lower level officials. And in other circumstances, independent federal agencies and civil service protections prevent the President from immediately firing people who exercise discretion. The theory—or rather, the theoretical fiction—of the unitary executive tries to deal with these realities in three ways. First, it denies that some of these realities exist. Second, it uses the theory to try to consolidate power and avoid oversight in certain circumstances. Third, when pressed, it claims that still other features—like independent agencies—are unconstitutional. Behind the rhetoric of the unitary executive, however, is the reality of increasingly disaggregated forms of power and expertise in the modern executive branch. In the modern administrative state, unilateral decisionmaking power is distributed as often as it is concentrated in a single individual.

* Barack Obama, like George W. Bush before him, began his presidency by taking advantage of the opportunities presented by emergency; he pushed for a sizeable economic stimulus package to deal with an economic crisis. Or, more correctly, he took advantage of the President’s ability to define the situation before him as an emergency and assert that bold, decisive action was necessary to avert the particular sort of crisis that he claimed the nation faced. This feature of the characteristic pattern—the President’s characterization of the situation— is quite important. As President Obama’s incoming Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel, famously put it: “[y]ou never want a serious crisis to go to waste. And what I mean by that is an opportunity to do things you think you could not do before.”

* the President, because of his preeminent political position, has a unique power in the American system of government to define the nature of political reality. This makes
it difficult, if not impossible, for Congress to refute his analysis of the situation as involving an emergency; and this, in turn, greatly reduces Congress’s ability to refuse his requests for additional authority.

The 9/11 attacks, for example, allowed George W. Bush to define the situation before the nation in existential terms as a war of national survival (rather than as part of a continuing problem of terrorist attacks) and to define himself as a war president, thus purporting to activate all of the powers that a president enjoys in time of war. His greatest achievement was convincing Americans to believe in the existence of a war on terror, a war with no defined battlefield and no defined enemy. Since both of these elements were lacking, the President could define the war as taking place literally everywhere, including within the United States.288 And since the enemy was a shadowy network of loosely connected terrorist organizations, the President could plausibly assert (or imply) that almost any country and any (foreign) organization was connected to Al
Qaeda or contained Al Qaeda operatives.289 Having framed the situation as an existential crisis, Bush insisted that he needed vast powers to detain, interrogate, and make war;290 he pointed to Iraq and insisted that it was a continuation of the war against Al Qaeda and that invasion was necessary to keep the country safe from nuclear weapons.291 Thus armed, the President’s choice of tactics (secret domestic surveillance, detention without habeas corpus, and torture) and his choice of targets (Iraq) reflected his structuring of the situation, and thus of his own powers. The President presented the situation to the country as an all-out war against the United States; the country
would respond to this existential threat with courage and with determination, led by a commander-in-chief over affairs both foreign and domestic.

* The more severe the crisis, the greater the need for bold, decisive action, and the greater the need for the country to rally around its leader, to whom the public looks to resolve the crisis.

* One’s view about the legitimacy of a particular use of the presidential politics of emergency depends on one’s belief about whether presidents have accurately described the nature and the scope of the situation before the country. If they have, of course, their solution, tailored to that description, makes correspondingly more sense, and so does following their leadership. If there really is an emergency along the lines described by the President, then of course, it is very different than if there is no emergency, or if it is not as severe as the President says it is, or if the nature of the problem is different than the President describes, for then the President’s solutions are the
wrong solutions, and they will lead the country in the wrong direction.

* Presidents seek to gain popular support for a political program (and their Administration generally) through describing reality as involving emergency and describing the program in terms of how it deals with the emergency so described. What the President seeks to do, he seeks to do because of the emergency; what he has done has been justified
because the emergency demands it.

* We emphasize that governing through emergency is not the same thing as constitutional dictatorship. The former is a political strategy of characterizing a situation to gain political support and realize political reforms; the latter is a set of powers enjoyed by particular persons in the government.

* One reason the Bush Administration failed in its ambitions to build a new, long-term Republican majority was that it lost the ability to maintain the public’s focus on the threats that it claimed faced the nation. It lost the public’s attention partly because of its success in preventing subsequent terrorist attacks, partly through its incompetence in dealing with other foreign policy (Iraq) and domestic problems (Hurricane Katrina), and partly because other issues, like the economy, came to rival the “war on terror” as the focus of public concern.

This last point is worth emphasizing: even if the President has a first-mover advantage to redefine the political situation temporarily to his advantage, he cannot do so indefinitely. Reality (and a resurgence of political opposition) will continually intrude on the Administration’s plans. Political opponents will deny the President’s claims about reality and assert that they understand the real emergencies the nation faces.

* If the members of the Bush Administration had been more flexible and less ideologically blinkered, they might well have achieved a new political majority that would last for decades.

* Almost a century ago, Max Weber offered a dark portrait of the likely evolution of parliamentary democracies over time. Viewing matters from the perspective of the early twentieth century, he foresaw an almost inevitable slide toward Caesarism: a plebiscitarian dictatorship in which rulers claim authority through acclamation by the people and then proceed to rule with little oversight from the democratic process. In Weber’s account, the legislature becomes increasingly impotent, irrelevant, or both. More and more government functions are concentrated in the executive. The executive, in turn, gains authority from charismatic appeals to the people for the right to rule. Gerhard Casper forcefully drew on Weber’s analysis in a 2006 analysis of the contemporary American presidency, which focused on—but was not limited to—the example of the Bush presidency.309 One could find a complementary analysis in the work of another great Weimar Era theorist of emergency and executive power, Carl Schmitt. Schmitt’s support for Hitler’s
rise to power in 1933 was due in part to his deep skepticism of parliamentary democracy and his belief that a strong and charismatic authority figure was needed to break through the political paralysis generated by the Weimar Constitution.

* The need for an inspiring figure, freed from the old politics, who would lead the country toward transformative change was a theme of both parties’ campaigns…

* the legislature is the least respected branch of the federal government.

* Aided by every possible technological innovation, the President, now more than ever, can appeal directly to the public. In the twentieth century the mass media were an important bulwark against presidential overreach, but they have become increasingly toothless, in part because of the rise of access journalism and in part because professional journalism itself is being undermined by the slow and steady destruction of its business models. Indeed, the President can now route around the traditional mass media and take his case to the public directly through the blogosphere or through YouTube.

* the modern presidency is inevitably a cult of personality, and especially so if the President is personally charismatic, like Barack Obama. Even if he is less so, his party
and his handlers assiduously work to create such a cult, as they did for George W. Bush. Some of us may be tempted to look back at the steady stream of toadying books and articles written about President Bush’s genius, moral clarity, and connection with ordinary Americans as examples of mass delusion.

* Presidents now not only set legislative agendas, they also are the chief spokespersons for the meaning of America, its values, its hopes, and its aspirations. They are not only commander-in-chief, they are also comforter-in-chief (able to “feel [our] pain”), preacher-in-chief, educator-in-chief, and role model-in-chief all rolled into one larger than life persona. The American President, unlike most parliamentary leaders, has always been both head of government and head of state; increasingly, however, the President embodies the virtues of the country, and he becomes a vessel into which are projected the hopes of the nation and the virtues of the country (as well as its vices).

* there is a long-term trend of disconnection between the plebiscitarian presidency, with its cult of personality and identification of value and action with a single
individual, and the actual practices of constitutional dictatorship, which distribute decisionmaking among many comparatively faceless and anonymous institutions and individuals. The result of these two opposed elements of the modern American presidency is the schizophrenic nature of American constitutional dictatorship. Distributed expertise and secrecy on the inside combine with a plebiscitarian cult of personality on the outside. As a result, the outward manifestation of American
power increasingly has little to do with the actual processes of government.

* laws are the enemy of discretion; increased legalization means increased bureaucracy that will hamper the President’s ability to make effective policy and take effective action.

* Determined lawyers set upon a course of finding ways around legal restraints are likely to do so, even if the arguments are very poor.

* parliamentary systems may have some modest advantages over presidential systems in heading off the dangers of constitutional dictatorship, if only because the Prime Minister has to maintain—and answer to—a parliamentary majority coalition. Presidents, by definition, are able to create their own political base separate from the legislature.

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NYT: CARL J. FRIEDRICH DIES AT 83; INFLUENTIAL HARVARD PROFESSOR

Joseph Berger wrote in 1983 for the New York Times:

Having lived in an era which saw the rise of Nazism and the spread of Communism, Dr. Friedrich sometimes took a dour view of the human inclination for freedom.

In his 1967 book ”An Introduction to Political Theory,” he wrote that while the liberal tradition believed people wanted freedom maximized, ”experience in the last hundred years has shown this to be quite in error.” He added, ”Actually I think it is much more nearly true to say that people want a minimum of freedom, rather than a maximum. Most people are very glad to leave a lot of things to other people.”

Stephen Turner wrote in 2015:

Encountering Carl Schmitt for the first time is a shock, especially if one is raised to respect what Jeremy Rabkin, in his Liberty Forum essay, correctly describes as the liberal pieties. But if one cares about liberalism it would be a mistake to write Schmitt off as a Nazi, a nihilist, or a promoter of anachronistic theological irrelevancies. Schmitt was a prophet of doom, and doom did not arrive on schedule, and his solution was worse than the disease. But it is important to take a longer perspective: the problems he identified in liberalism have not gone away. Indeed they flare up repeatedly, and may well be arriving on a slower schedule, in different but related forms.

The risk of dismissing Schmitt is significant: to fail to see how fragile liberalism is, what its preservation requires, why the liberal bromides seem to much of the world to be cynical and empty justifications for the self-interested exercise of power, and, finally, why the skeptics might, quite reasonably, think differently. With the world convulsed by radical Islam, which overtly rejects liberalism and takes a theological form that cannot be fit into the painfully worked-out compromises that resolved the European wars of religion, one can hardly pretend that liberalism, especially of the kind derived from Wilsonian internationalism, has all the political answers for current world problems.

There are other reasons as well. One cannot really understand the Frankfurt School, or Leo Strauss, or Hans Kelsen, or Hans Morgenthau, without understanding what they both absorbed and rejected from Schmitt. Herbert Marcuse’s essay “Repressive Tolerance” (1965) is a perfect example of Schmittian reasoning, and the basic form of argument reappears in feminism and the various constructions of racism that dominate contemporary academia. And one cannot understand the kind of authoritarian liberalism promoted at Harvard by the Kantian Carl Friedrich, which influenced so many American political scientists, including his student Henry Kissinger, and also many of his Harvard colleagues in other fields, and consequently the conduct of American government, without understanding Schmitt as his hidden interlocutor.

Clinton Rossiter’s dissertation, Constitutional Dictatorship (1948), conveyed the same message as Schmitt’s Dictatorship (1921): that we had something to learn from the Roman institution of dictatorship about how to deal with political crisis. It was a small step to Rossiter’s fawning praise of the executive in The American Presidency (1956), his widely used textbook pointing out that the vaunted legislative checks on presidential power in the U.S. Constitution, such as the power of the purse, were largely meaningless and unusable. Arthur Schlesinger Jr.’s The Imperial Presidency (1973) affirmed that this is indeed what had transpired: the executive had become unfettered and dangerous. In an age of presidential assertions of prosecutorial discretion that amount to rule by decree, these are live issues.

From the Wikipedia entry on Clinton Rossiter:

In particular, following the events of 9/11, Rossiter’s first book, the 1948 Constitutional Dictatorship: Crisis Government in the Modern Democracies (reissued in 1963 with a new preface), was reprinted for the first time in nearly forty years. In that germinal study, Rossiter argued that constitutional democracies had to learn the lesson of the Roman Republic to adopt and use emergency procedures that would empower governments to deal with crises beyond the ordinary capacities of democratic constitutional governance but to ensure that such crisis procedures were themselves subject to constitutional controls and codified temporal limits.

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The End of Law: Carl Schmitt in the Twenty-First Century Second Edition

Here are some highlights from this 2019 book by William E. Scheuerman:

* When I penned this volume’s first edition over twenty years ago, the Carl Schmitt “bug” had just hit the Anglophone intellectual world, with many political theorists, jurists, and others suddenly paying close attention to Schmitt’s ideas and their possible significance. In part by highlighting the ways in which Schmitt’s theoretical agenda opened the door to his disastrous flirtation with National Socialism, I hoped to push back against the emerging Schmitt renaissance.

By any standard, those efforts were a failure: Schmitt is now a household name in the English-speaking academic world, and his work is more popular than ever. Elsewhere as well (e.g., China) Schmitt has since garnered a significant collection of disciples. The worldwide rise of right-wing populism means that he is very much in the news, with many far-right intellectuals energetically advising would-be rightist demagogues about Schmitt’s lessons.

* Schmitt has no close relations in legal theory in the United States today, and no influential American legal theory even remotely resembles Schmitt’s heinous Nazi-era ideas.

* Schmitt very early endorsed ideas about legal indeterminacy that clearly took him well beyond traditional notions of the
limited determinacy of law. In some contrast to contemporary North American defenders of both the underdeterminacy and radical indeterminacy theses, however, he believed that the critique of formalist jurisprudence necessarily pointed the way toward an assault on liberal models of deliberative parliamentarism (chapter 2), constitutionalism (chapter 3), the state/society divide
(chapter 4), and international law (chapter 6). Schmitt exploited what he took to be the Achilles’ heel of liberalism—formalist jurisprudence—in order to discredit liberalism altogether. Pace liberalism, legal decision making inevitably rests on untrammeled discretion: the inevitability of a constitutive “pure decision” at the basis of every legal act demonstrates the bankruptcy of
“normativistic” liberalism as a whole. From Schmitt’s perspective, the enigma of legal indeterminacy provided an effective intellectual weapon in the right-wing authoritarian assault on liberal democracy.

* Schmitt’s influence on some important voices within postwar American political and legal theory has been widely documented.34 Yet the story of Schmitt’s impact on postwar political thought in the United States remains incomplete. Take Joseph A. Schumpeter’s enormously influential democratic theory (chapter 7) or Friedrich A. Hayek’s free-market critique of the welfare state (chapter 8): each was shaped by a more or less hidden debate with Carl Schmitt. Neither was a principled “Schmittian” in any sense of the term, and each opposed Schmitt’s own political preferences and significant parts of his theory. Nevertheless, each author was ultimately influenced by Schmitt: Schmitt was more than a parochial “German thinker” lacking in significance
for American political and legal thought.

* Following the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon, and many subsequent attacks elsewhere, legal scholars quickly turned to Schmitt’s ideas about emergency powers to begin rethinking how liberal states might best respond. Even more recently, Schmitt’s ideas have loomed large in thinking about the 2008 financial and other “global” crises. Schmitt’s theory of emergency powers, more than any other intellectual contribution he made, has ignited a massive political and legal debate; we need to pay careful attention to it.

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Carl Schmitt’s Erotic State Of Exception

From Carl Schmitt: A Biography by Reinhard Mehring:

Paul Gottfried wrote in 2015:

Reinhard Mehring’s study of the long-lived German political and legal theorist Carl Schmitt (1888-1985) is the most exhaustive biography known to me of a deeply fascinating subject. Given his opportunistic embrace of the Nazis in 1933, Schmitt does not fit the image that postwar Germans have worked to create for themselves. Yet Schmitt’s Concept of the Political, Legality and Legitimacy, Dictatorship, Law of the Earth, and Political Theology continue to be read because of their conceptual depth and stylistic brilliance.

These elegantly phrased works cannot be reduced to the circumstances that inspired them—Weimar Germany, the Nazi regime, and the postwar American order—any more than Hobbes’s masterpiece Leviathan can be seen purely as an artifact of the English Civil War. Indeed, aphorisms can be found in Schmitt’s works that are so pregnant with meaning that they invariably fail in translation: “Sovereign is the one who determines the challenge of the exception,” “All modern political teachings are secularized theological concepts,” and “Historical truths are true only once.”

Schmitt has always appealed to the political outliers, from the revolutionary right to the anti-capitalist, anti-liberal left. Geoffrey Barraclough’s observation that the Hegelian right and the Hegelian left clashed at Stalingrad in 1943 might be applied even more appropriately to Schmitt, if we allow for a certain hyperbole. The Frankfurt School Marxist Walter Benjamin devoted one of his most famous essays to an elaboration of Schmitt’s observations about Renaissance politics. Otto Kirchheimer—who was Schmitt’s graduate student at Bonn—and the young Jürgen Habermas were only two of the numerous German socialists who tried to adapt Schmitt’s critical studies of Weimar German politics for leftist agendas. It was hardly accidental that Leo Strauss’s first published work was a commentary on Schmitt’s Concept of the Political, which Schmitt graciously appended to the second edition of his work.

In interwar Germany, Schmitt enjoyed indisputable renown. Leading jurists of the time like Hans Kelsen and Rudolf Smend, who had sharp disagreements with him, readily conceded his mental acuity and gift for language. It may have been almost incidental that Schmitt held a professorship in Bonn and eventually one in Berlin, or that he became the major legal advisor to the Catholic Center Party in the Reichstag during the Weimar era. As a literary and scholarly star he operated on a different level from the professional posts he held.

The details of his life of more than 96 years are truly staggering. Although the author of an intellectual biography of Schmitt, I learnt from Mehring things about Schmitt’s life I encountered nowhere else. Even longtime Schmitt-researchers may be surprised, or shocked, by some of these revelations. Schmitt’s first wife, for example, whom he divorced in 1922, was not, as is often believed, a Serb or Croatian from a prominent family but a thief and embezzler from Vienna who may have been involved in a prostitution ring.

The womanizing Schmitt became involved in an affair with an Australian teaching English, Kathleen Murray, while his divorce was still pending. At one point he promised to marry her, but she returned to Australia, having used Schmitt to complete her German-language dissertation. Later Schmitt plunged into other liaisons, perhaps most passionately with a certain “Magda” while he was still a professor in Bonn.

Teaching in Berlin while his second wife was in a sanitarium, he became so sexually promiscuous that Mehring refers to this period in his life as an “erotic state of the exception.” Just as Schmitt argued that constitutional government required an awareness of “exceptional circumstances” in order to function even in normal times, so too did the survival of Schmitt’s conjugal life depend on his liberty to plunge into serial affairs.

Perhaps curiously, given his sexual passion, Schmitt had chosen for his second wife a gravely ill, tubercular woman. The union brought Schmitt high medical expenses but minimal sexual satisfaction. This remarriage after a divorce also led to his excommunication. Mehring suggests that Schmitt’s straying from his strict Catholic upbringing, a development hastened by his unsatisfied sexual desires, intensified his amoral careerism, culminating in his kowtowing to the Nazis. Although this causal connection is not provable, Schmitt’s Catholic students and colleagues brought it up after 1933 when they attempted to explain their teacher’s unexpected accommodation of the Third Reich.

Mehring confirms that Schmitt’s devotion to the Catholic Church was mostly political. A Rhineland Catholic who grew up under Prussian Protestant rule, Schmitt resented the German imperial government as a foreign presence. He noticeably gravitated toward Latin cultures and seemed pleased with his mother’s French ancestry, particularly since as a young man he managed to borrow money from his uncle in Lorraine. In his publications Schmitt defended the hierarchical structure and Roman law of the Catholic Church and became identified with Germany’s (Catholic) Center Party. But theologically Schmitt was heavily influenced by the Danish existentialist Protestant Kierkegaard, and even when he defended the 19th-century Catholic counterrevolutionaries Joseph de Maistre and Juan Donoso Cortes, he habitually quoted his Protestant mentors Kierkegaard and Hobbes.

Mehring understandably questions whether Schmitt really believed in Catholic Christian doctrines. Here one should note Thomas Molnar’s observation that Schmitt was a Catholic of sorts but certainly not a Christian. The inverse may also apply: Schmitt was intermittently some kind of a Christian but not a believing Catholic. In Concept of the Political—which interpreted the “political” as the most intense of human relations, characterized by friend-enemy relations—there is no underlying Catholic theme. Among the outraged critics of this work, as Mehring points out, were Catholic theologians. One surely discerns no Catholic leanings in Schmitt’s praise for Hobbes as “the completer of the Protestant Reformation.” Hobbes, as Schmitt reminds us, was the thinker who characterized papal influence over European sovereign states as “the kingdom of darkness.” It is far from clear that Schmitt found this judgment to be objectionable.

Even more illuminating are the parts of Mehring’s work dealing with Schmitt’s attitude toward his Jewish connections. Attempts to find anti-Semitism in his writings and personal relations before his fateful decision to join the Nazi Party in May 1933 have turned up, as far as I can judge, nothing of consequence. Indeed, the Nazis had every reason to suspect Schmitt of dissembling in his anti-Semitic statements after 1933, given his longtime intimate association with Jewish mentors, benefactors, colleagues, and students.

Leo Strauss may have approached this academic luminary in the hope of obtaining a Rockefeller grant to do research in England precisely because Schmitt seemed especially friendly toward Jews. He also warned sternly against the Nazis before they came to power and had called on the German government in 1931 and 1932 to ban Hitler’s party.

After 1933, however, Schmitt went out of his way to inject anti-Semitic remarks into his writings, while unceremoniously cutting off relations with his numerous Jewish acquaintances. Although the SS kept surveillance on him, as a suspect party member married to an ethnic Serb—his second wife—he nonetheless continued to flatter the regime. He even organized a conference of jurists in 1934 to discuss ways of removing Jewish influence from the German legal profession. Despite these gestures, Schmitt was upset that his onetime Jewish colleagues and students would not associate with him after the war. In letters and diaries he complained that he was being unfairly targeted for having decided to remain in Germany after 1933.

Schmitt was not the only amoral careerist who ever entered the academic world, but his character flaw was all the more shocking because of his greatness as a thinker and how he treated longtime friends. As a law student in Strasbourg he had been befriended by the son of a Jewish press magnate from Hamburg, Heinrich Eisler. Heinrich’s son Fritz was his closest companion, and Fritz’s soldier’s death near the Marne in September 1914 left Schmitt bereaved. Almost 10 years later he dedicated a book to his fallen comrade, and in the intervening time Fritz’s brother Georg became Schmitt’s bosom friend, particularly when the latter was between wives.

The elder Eisler had sent Schmitt, while he was an impoverished student and poorly paid legal clerk, regular gifts of money and had entertained him repeatedly at his sumptuous home in Hamburg. In his diaries Schmitt contrasted his admiration for the Eisler family, including the mother of Fritz and Georg, with his estimation of his own less generous and less well educated parents. But Schmitt suspended his relation with Georg in 1933, as well as cutting ties with Georg’s sister, who had been his private secretary in Berlin.

There are two problems with Mehring’s biography, other than the baffling absence of my writings on Schmitt in the extensive bibliography. One, the author provides such a mass of details that one sometimes loses sight of the forest for the trees. The chronological framework may not suffice to bear the crushing weight of all the data assembled. The author also shows a tendency to dart back and forth between discussions of Schmitt’s writings and his personal and political life. In some chapters the result can be chaotic.

Two, Mehring never explains, certainly not to my satisfaction, why any of Schmitt’s writings made such a profound impression on his contemporaries. Why would his Jewish editor Ludwig Feuchtwanger, who did not share Schmitt’s political views, consider Concept of the Political a conceptual masterpiece? Mehring approaches Schmitt’s work with painful reservations, as a “problem” in the history of German illiberalism. He dutifully quotes Schmitt’s liberal and Catholic critics, but he never really explains why his subject’s work bedazzled readers from across the political spectrum. As one of the bedazzled multitude, I would have appreciated a treatment of Schmitt’s work that recognized more fully what made it so compelling. Although Schmitt was a morally flawed genius, one would have liked to find more in the biography about his genius and perhaps a bit less about the unmistakable moral defects.

But it may be hard for German academics, driven to engage “the burden of German history,” to provide such perspective in writing about someone like Schmitt. We should therefore take what Mehring offers and attribute the resulting thematic imbalance to the burden of being a German academic historian.

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Covid & Culture

William Lind writes April 26:

In most cultures, including Hispanic culture, you owe nothing to anyone who is not a member of your family, clan, or tribe, in that order of importance. The public realm is simply a combined dump and sewer. Why not? The people who inhabit it, except your relatives, mean nothing to you. Civic virtue, in such cultures, is unknown.

What this means in our country as it confronts the coronavirus is that in black and Hispanic areas, people do not follow the rules to the same degree as do people in white and east Asian areas (east Asian culture is a culture of order, even though it does not have northern European culture’s concept of civic virtue). That is of course not the only explanation for the difference in infection rates: population density and people’s need to physically go to their workplace are also factors. Once the pandemic passes, it would be informative to compare infection rates in black and Hispanic neighborhoods with those in poor white neighborhoods. That probably won’t happen for fear the results would point to cultural differences, which would be politically incorrect.

A third example also points to civic virtue as an important variable: the high infection rates in some orthodox Jewish neighborhoods. Ultra-orthodox Jews are rule-followers of the highest order–but only their own rules. Like black and Hispanic cultures, their culture dismisses anyone not from their group. The public realm beyond their shtetl means nothing to them, unless they are doing a “good deed” in that realm, which some sects do require. Otherwise, they hold the world of the goyim in contempt, as that world holds them in contempt, which is why the Holocaust was popular in much of central and eastern Europe.

That fact points to the danger to minority groups which, in societies with strong concepts of civic virtue, refuse to practice such virtue themselves. In normal times, the result is irritation and friction. In abnormal times, irritation and friction can boil over into a determination to either enforce civic virtue on those who will not practice it voluntarily or find a final solution to the problem. We are, I hope, a long way from the latter. But if we were dealing not with the flu but with a plague that had a much higher mortality rate–as at some point we will be–the fate of those who refuse to follow the larger society’s rules and practice civic virtue could be grim.

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NYT: Dr. Richard Friedman, Who Debunked Homosexuality Myth, Dies at 79

From the New York Times:

In the 1980s, when marriage and adopting children seemed impossible dreams for gay men, the psychoanalyst Richard C. Friedman became their champion.

His 1988 book, “Male Homosexuality: A Contemporary Psychoanalytic Perspective,” showed that sexual orientation was largely biological and presented a case that helped undermine the belief held by most Freudian analysts at the time that homosexuality was a pathology that could somehow be cured.

“I felt an ethical obligation to find the reasons for anti-homosexual prejudice,” he once told an interviewer. His wife, Susan Matorin, a clinical social worker at the Weill Medical College of Cornell, put it more plainly: “Straight people had the same personality issues, and they got away with murder, but gay people were stigmatized, and he didn’t think that was right.”

Dr. Friedman’s motivation wasn’t political. “He very much felt like you followed the science, and it didn’t matter what the political backdrop was,” his son, Jeremiah, a screenwriter in Los Angeles, said in a phone interview.

Although the American Psychiatric Association, the dominant mental health organization in the United States, changed its diagnostic manual in 1973 and stopped classifying homosexuality as an illness, psychoanalysts continued to describe homosexuality as a perversion, and many believed it could be cured.

Dr. Friedman, using studies of identical twins and theories of developmental psychology, made a scholarly rather than ideological case that biology rather than upbringing played a significant role in sexual orientation.

It was a direct challenge to popular Freudian theories and thrust him into the center of debates among the more established heavyweights of psychoanalysis. It led to a model in which analyst and patient simply assumed that homosexuality was intrinsic, said Jack Drescher, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University who knew Dr. Friedman and would later offer his own critiques of Dr. Friedman’s theory as new approaches to working with gay and lesbian patients emerged.

There’s a bit of a difference between “debunking homosexuality myth” and “making a case…”

We don’t know why people become homosexual. It hasn’t been established yet. Therapists such as Mark Smith have noticed that every homosexual man they’ve counseled did not have a good relationship with his dad and hence he grew up eroticizing male attention. It makes sense to me that nature and nurture play a role here.

Judaism does not recognize any such category as homosexual. There are homosexual acts that are forbidden. Why would we define people based on their sexual fantasies? I have heterosexual fantasies that I would prefer to not define me.

Virtually every married man would like to have sex with a female younger and hotter than his wife. They learn to sublimate these desire to sustain a relationship. They’re acting against their nature as much as a gay fantasizing man married to a woman.

Given male nature, the difference between being able to have sex with one person or none is not that big for most men. Every committed man with the opportunity to stray with a woman young and hot has to fight his most primal sexual inclinations. The difference between hetero men learning to function in a committed relationship and a gay-leaning man learning to function in a committed hetero relationship is not usually huge. Most “gay” men (about 70%) have had sex with women.

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Misc

* I couldn’t figure out why a GF was co-parenting a Rottweiler with some bloke. About six months later, I realized they had a relationship. It’s great when a GF stays close to her exes. Nothing like making crazy love to your girl while her Rottweiler gives you the evil eye. I was particularly gentle and considerate on that occasion.

* Mazal tov! “Anderson Cooper reveals his ex, Benjamin Maisani, will be a co-parent to his newborn son Wyatt.” Totally normal and healthy!

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The New York Times Makes It As Painful As Possible To Cancel Your Subscription

Normally, when you want to cancel an online subscription, you simply click cancel on your account on their website. But not with the New York Times. They are the Comcast-quality customer service of newspapers. No matter how many times I indicate I don’t want to talk to anyone, I just want to cancel, they keep barraging me with questions.

I was fine with paying $8 a month for a New York Times subscription but once they and the Los Angeles Times bumped me to $15 a month, I canceled, just as I canceled the Wall Street Journal when they tried to bump me to $40 a month rather than $10.

No means no! This New York Times attitude does not make me feel safe.

PS. I ended up taking the great deal the NY Times offered me.

PPS. Bud: “There was a gym i joined in addition to my local gym because it was 24/7 and pretty cheap. To shut off the month to month membership it couldn’t be done on website, I went to the gym front desk and was told i had to write a snail mail letter to the company hq in Colorado.”

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The Opium War: Drugs, Dreams, and the Making of Modern China

Here are some highlights from this book by Julia Lovell:

* The London Missionary Society had sent out their first man to south China, Robert Morrison, in 1807. Not long after his arrival, he had been asked whether he hoped to have any spiritual impact on the country: ‘No,’ he responded, ‘but I expect God will’.6 Thirty years later, he and his colleagues found themselves unable either to name or enumerate more than a handful of converts. Ill, depressed, stalled on the edge of the mainland, frustrated missionary observers of the 1830s spoke a pure dialect of imperialist paternalism: ‘China still proclaims her proud and unapproachable supremacy and disdainfully rejects all pretensions in any other nation to be considered as her equal. This feeling of contemptible vanity Christianity alone will effectually destroy. Where other means have failed, the gospel will triumph; this will fraternize the Chinese with the rest of mankind . . . [linking] them in sympathy with other portions of their species, and thus add to the triumphs it has achieved.’7 The missionaries became natural allies of the smugglers: when they first arrived on the coast of China, they docked among opium traders on the island of Lintin; they interpreted for them in exchange for passages up the coast, distributing tracts while the drug was taken onshore; and in the Chinese Repository, Canton’s leading English-language publication, they shared a forum for spreading their views on the urgent need to open China, by whatever means necessary. By the 1830s, merchants and missionaries alike favoured violence. ‘[W]hen an opponent supports his argument with physical force, [the Chinese] can be crouching, gentle, and even kind’, observed Karl Gützlaff, a stout Pomeranian missionary who would, during the Opium War, lead the British military occupation of parts of eastern China, running armies of Chinese spies and collaborators.8 The slightest provocation would do. In 1831, traders had written to the government in India, demanding a fleet of warships to avenge the Chinese authorities’ partial demolition of a front garden that the British had illegally requisitioned.

* In China today, the Opium War is the traumatic inauguration of the country’s modern history. History books, television documentaries and museums chorus a simple, received wisdom about the conflict, which goes something like this. In the early nineteenth century, unscrupulous British traders began forcing enormous quantities of Indian opium on Chinese consumers. When the Chinese government declared war on opium, in order to avert the moral, physical and financial disaster threatened by the empire’s growing drug habit, British warships bullied China out of tens of millions of dollars, and its economic and political independence. Gunboat diplomacy, opium and the first ‘Unequal Treaty’ of 1842 (followed by a second in 1860, concluding the ‘second Opium War’ begun in 1856) brought China – until the end of the eighteenth century, probably the richest and most powerful civilization in the world – to its knees, leaving its people slavish addicts, incapable of resisting subsequent waves of European, American and Japanese colonizers.23 This account of the Opium War is now one of the founding myths of Chinese nationalism: the first great call to arms against a bullying West; but also the start of China’s ‘century of humiliation’ (a useful pedagogical shorthand for everything that happened in China between 1842 and 1949) at the hands of imperialism.24 It marks the beginning of China’s struggle to free itself from ‘semi-colonial semi-feudalism’ (Mao’s own summary of the century of Chinese experience after 1842), and to ‘stand up’ (Mao again) as a strong modern nation – a battle that ends, naturally, with Communist triumph in 1949.

* Nine minutes. This grotesque discrepancy in military strength between the British and the Qing would be replayed again and again through the two years of the war.

* Qing China was after all no tribal power but one of the world’s great conquest empires.

How, exactly, could its armies have atrophied so drastically by 1840? The problems with the Qing military can be broken down into three main categories: materiel and defences; organization; and individual quality of troops.11

In all areas of equipment – weaponry, forts and most critically ships – the Qing equipment lagged behind that of the British.

* But why did the Qing fail to capitalize on their numerical superiority over the British? Theoretically, the dynasty commanded the largest standing army (800,000-strong) in the world at the time – 114 times more numerous than the 7,000-strong British force dispatched to China. In reality, however, most of these 800,000 soldiers were scattered through the empire, far too busy with domestic peace-keeping duties (suppressing bandits or rebels; carrying out disaster relief; guarding prisons; policing smugglers) to be spared for the quarrel with the British.

* During the Opium War, Qing politicians of the pro- and anti-war faction could agree on only one thing: that their army was hopeless. Travelling east from Canton to Zhejiang in 1841, Lin Zexu bluntly analysed the reasons for the army’s lack of interest in fighting the British. ‘The most coveted positions in the Guangdong garrisons were in the naval fleet, where one per cent of salaries was drawn from the grain and silver stipend, and the rest from opium-smugglers’ bribes. Once we banned opium, ninety-nine per cent of the navy’s income went up in smoke. How could we expect them to resist the English rebels?’20 ‘Our soldiers cheat everyone’, echoed Qiying, the emperor’s chief negotiator at the close of the war. ‘They refuse to pay full prices, gather in brothels and gambling dens, corrupt the sons of good families and handle stolen goods.’

* At pains to show themselves to be civilized, the British tried hard to inform their adversaries of their demands before they pulverized them in battle. Through July, the fleet made several unsuccessful attempts to deliver Lord Palmerston’s letter to the Chinese emperor at various points along the eastern coast.

* Everywhere the British went, they were dependent on local willingness to provide them with fresh food and water.

* Almost as soon as Yishan arrived in the city, he made the following diagnosis of the situation: ‘The trouble lies within, not without, because every merchant has got rich through the foreigners, and even the lowest orders make their livings from them. All the merchants and people who live near the coast are fluent in the foreigners’ language. The craftier of their number are spies, and know everything that is going on around the government offices, and are quick to pass it on.’ The going rate for information, he reported, was twenty dollars – for which locals were so avid that they regularly fabricated reports for the foreigners.

* It was perhaps the dismissal of Charles Elliot that marked the true turning point in this war: from here on, the campaign would be more about gunboats than diplomacy. True enough, back in the spring of 1839, Elliot had brayed as loudly as anyone for an instructive war that would ‘teach’ China to fall in line with civilized European trading norms. But once he’d got his war, he spent a curious amount of time avoiding it: calling regular pauses for talks, for trading, for elaborate negotiating banquets. Violence, he actually believed, was to be minimized at all costs. He was fighting, he argued, ‘a just and necessary war; but it is not to be forgotten that the acts of the Chinese authorities which made it so . . . [were] preceded by serious errors on the part of British subjects.’2

But with Elliot gone, so was any spirit of self-critical compromise. He was replaced by no-nonsense hardliners: professional men of the British army and navy who were there to do a military job – to subdue the Qing empire as expediently as possible – or by representatives of a chauvinistic new breed of rulers of British India. Gone was any sense that sympathy or familiarity with Qing customs or sensibilities might, in the long-term, more effectively open the empire to trade with Europe. No, the Chinese empire wanted blasting into line. ‘The body social of the Chinese’, one missionary expressed the sentiment well, ‘is too inert, too lifeless, for the whole body to be affected by a rap on the heel; it must be on the head.’3 It was, perhaps, with respect to China that the Victorians began wholeheartedly to embrace attributes that we now think of stereotypically Victorian: a strident patriotism that shouted about the civilizing missions of Christianity and Free Trade, while trampling over other political, economic and cultural visions. Sino-Western relations are still paying the price of the Opium War’s quick fix today.

* One cliff-face fort was taken by a single officer rushing up the hill and through its open gate, discharging every firearm he had on him at the forty or fifty soldiers he found there, ‘lolling and smoking [opium, presumably] between their guns.’10 Without hanging around long enough to notice his lack of reinforcements, the fort’s defenders rushed out of the opposite gate and back down the hill.

That evening, the British troops camped out on the cliffs; the next day they simply entered the island’s abandoned city (one of the country’s richest ports), with little to do except resist the temptation of abandoned vats of rice liquor and to tut-tut at the rapacity of Chinese robbers, who had already thoroughly looted it (its bullion had been ingeniously smuggled out inside hollowed logs). How extraordinary, the captain of the Nemesis exclaimed, that the massive bombardment and occupation of the island should lead to a general collapse in law and order. The only protection that locals had to look for ‘from the violence and plundering of their own rabble,’ Captain Hall remarked, ‘was from the presence of our own troops’.11

In other words, it was an Opium War battle like any other. Inside the walled city, watching the disaster unfold on 26 August, Yan did the only thing that a man in that situation could reasonably have done. He burst into tears and ran away.

* There was little new about the way Yuqian prepared for a British assault: three miles of thick mud walls, up to sixty feet wide and thirteen feet high, were built along the exposed southern coast of the island. And once the hard work of construction had been done, and 5,600 soldiers and militia stationed there, Yuqian could indulge in the traditional pastime of giving hopeful names to his fortifications. Two gates set into the wall were dubbed ‘Stable Governance’ and ‘Long-term Peace’; a fort on top of a hill in the middle of the earthworks became ‘The Fort That Terrifies Those From Afar’.

* local populations who fell under British rule should be so ‘perfectly contented with their new rulers, every kind of excess or plunder being rigidly prohibited.’

* Until 1842, any official servant who implicitly (by ignoring imperial orders to ‘exterminate’ the foreigners) or explicitly (by pointing out the weaknesses of the Qing army and the strengths of the British) acknowledged British military superiority had risked, at best, dismissal and more likely interrogation and punishment (exile, and possibly death). As a result, Daoguang’s nervous servants had spent the last two years diligently deluding him about the nature of the British threat and demands. But the more misinformed the emperor was, the less likely a solution became. Daoguang’s furious impatience with those who failed to resolve the conflict in accordance with his expectations caused his most experienced, talented officials to view an imperial commission to the front line of the war with dread.

* The army was crushed by defeat, he now wrote to the emperor, and the costs of war were crippling. The British cannon were too fierce, their soldiers too expert at fighting on land and at sea; the Chinese people – scourged by Qing armies – were easily bribed into collaboration with the enemy.

* Despite the ambivalence that the conflict had generated before and during the Opium War, the fact of victory convinced many that Britain had been right: that the war had performed a necessary and relatively bloodless service to world civilization by opening China. And once expectations (of opportunities for trade, conversion and travel) had been inflated by the Treaty of Nanjing, merchants, missionaries and diplomats set about manoeuvring for yet more concessions and advantages – and if necessary, for a second war to achieve them. For others, though, the war remained an embarrassment, generating guilty repentance. The very term ‘Opium War’ – satirically coined through the debates of early 1840 to draw attention to the ‘misdeeds’ in China of the ‘disgraceful’ Whig government – expressed this bad conscience. To Victorian Britain – a nation that prided itself on its sense of Christian superiority over the non-Europeans that it conquered – the name brought discomfort. The British, it announced, had fought a war to push an addictive, illegal narcotic on the Chinese population. It was, one strand of opinion held, ‘the most disgraceful war in our history . . . we lost about 69 men, and killed between 20,000 and 25,000 Chinese. There is no honour to be gained in a war like that.’6 ‘No man’, a speech-maker declared in 1858, ‘with a spark of morality in his composition . . . has dared to justify that war.’7 During the Second World War, both the Nazis and the Japanese government would try to discredit the Allies by reminding their subject populations (including Chinese civilians, whom Japanese soldiers killed in their millions between 1937 and 1945) of Britain’s past aggression against China.

* Through the 1840s, the Chinese Repository estimated that profits from the opium trade would leap from $33.6 million to $42 million, between 1845 and 1847 alone.33 However loudly England’s politicians and merchants bellowed about the civilizing mission of Free Trade, the fact remained that into the 1850s and beyond, opium sales in China (produced under British monopoly in India) underwrote much of the British empire: they funded the Raj (by 1856, opium revenue represented almost 22 per cent of British India’s total revenue), they generated the silver for Britain to trade along the Indian Ocean, and in China they bought tea and silk.34 To some extent, they kept the world economy moving: after British bills bought American cotton, American traders used these bills to buy tea in Canton; the Cantonese then swapped them for Indian opium.35 Acknowledging the economic importance of its opium monopoly, in 1843 the British annexed a new slice of west India, the Sind, at least in part to hike up transit fees on opium grown outside British Bengal, thereby helping to make production of the drug beyond British-controlled territories unprofitable.36 Through the 1840s and 1850s, after Pottinger had failed to legalize opium in 1842, British politicians remained nervous of a repeat of the 1839 campaign against the drug (which would jeopardize British profit margins), and pestered (without result) the Qing government to lift the official prohibition on the trade.

* The anti-opium lobby’s disapproval took on a new racial dimension when it was directed against use of the drug in China (which had emerged, in recent decades, as undoubtedly the world’s biggest opium market). Over the course of the nineteenth century, as Asia and Africa had fallen before Western science and industry, theorists of the European empires had sought convincing explanations for their supremacy, fixing the world into racial types distinguished by immutable characteristics – with the whites clearly at the top, and the ‘yellows’ and ‘blacks’ below. The conspicuous popularity of the drug amongst the Chinese became a symptom of the moral weakness and torpor of this alien, inexplicable race. The campaign that fought the opium trade in China was, therefore, a contradictory creature. On the one hand, it betokened a special sympathy for China and guilt about the role of the West (and especially Britain) in foisting the drug on the population. On the other, it could not conceal a certain disgust for the Chinese themselves. The opium trade produced a rationale for the Christian presence in China, turning the country into a depraved mass of opium sots to be disciplined and improved by salvation-hungry missionaries. ‘I am profoundly convinced’, declared the founder of the China Inland Mission, ‘that the opium traffic is doing more evil in China in a week than Missions are doing good in a year.’20 In other words, the Western presence in China had first created a problem then provided the service to solve it – the opium trade both generated and justified the civilizing mission.

* Almost wherever Chinese communities went, they were accused of vice, violence and mutiny, of being a secretive, alien, xenophobic community that refused to integrate with Anglo-Saxon society. ‘Colonies of Chinese’ were ‘being founded in all the chief ports of the British Isles’, announced scaremongers. ‘An imported horde of underpaid Chinese starvelings’ threatened to take over ‘the great traditions of the British sea dog.’41 While suspicion and violence grew, relations inevitably deteriorated, neatly reinforcing earlier prejudices about the sinister exclusiveness of the Chinese. As police and judges began to assume that any violence in Chinese communities was Triad warfare, these communities tried to resolve disputes between themselves rather than throw themselves onto the unsympathetic mercies of the law courts. Meanwhile, Chinese immigrants who tried to assimilate – by learning English, by wearing European clothes, by marrying local women – were ridiculed, or suspected of trying to penetrate English society for invidious reasons.42 Respectable middle-class magazines spread dread further up the social scale. In ‘The Chinese in England: A Growing National Problem’ (an article distributed liberally around the Home Office), one hack journalist warned of ‘a vast and convulsive Armageddon to determine who is to be the master of the world, the white or yellow man.’

* In the first two decades of the twentieth century, British tabloid readers were transfixed by a string of sensational stories in which beautiful young British women were seduced (sometimes with fatal consequences) by Asiatic drug-peddlers. In 1918, a wealthy Shanghai dilettante called Brilliant Chang was implicated in the death by overdose of the cocaine-snorting darling of the London stage, Billie Carleton. Four years later, three sisters, Florence, Gwendoline and Rosetta Paul, were found in an opium stupor next to a dead Chinese man in the bedroom over a Cardiff laundry. ‘The features of the women were so yellow’, their discoverer reported, that for a time he ‘did not realise they were white girls.’

* In probably every decade since its invention, the Yellow Panic has featured in Western consciousness, regardless of the reality of China’s own political, social or economic capacity to pose a threat. In 1898, as Matthew Shiel created Yen How, the Qing empire was still reeling from a shocking defeat in Korea at the hands of its former cultural tributary, Japan. As Sax Rohmer began generating his Fu Manchu canon in the 1910s and 1920s, ethnic Chinese populations in London arguably possessed the hardest-working and generally least threatening social and political profile of any non-white British group. The 1932 movie of The Mask of Fu Manchu (in which the eponymous doctor screams for the destruction of the white race while trying to resurrect Genghis Khan by sacrificing a blonde white woman lashed to a stone altar) was filmed as China’s military energies were fully absorbed either in civil war, or in facing off the Japanese aggression that would culminate in the Second World War.

* In almost any trouble connected with China, the old fears resurface. A typical example is the hysteria in 2007 that spread the idea of China exporting ‘poison’ to the world through its faulty products: pet food, drugs, toothpaste, lead-painted toy trains. ‘Is China trying to poison Americans and their pets?’ asked one article.86 ‘The Chinese Poison Train is still out there,’ warned one American consumer association, ‘lurking on a container ship headed our way. Nobody knows when it will strike again.’87 At the same moment, China’s profit-hungry companies were busy poisoning far more Chinese consumers: around 300,000 babies were taken ill in 2008, the year that the scandal about milk-powder tainted with melamine belatedly broke. And after recalling around 21 million toys manufactured in China, Mattel publicly apologized to its manufacturing partners in China, admitting that the ‘vast majority of those products that were recalled were the result of a design flaw in Mattel’s design, not through a manufacturing flaw in China’s manufacturers.’88 China has also been fingered for polluting the world with its economic miracle (the so-called Green Peril) – when Western consumers have been the principal market for cheap Chinese manufactures while letting China’s own natural environment absorb most of the damage. The survival of the Yellow Peril school of thought on Sino-Western relations indicates the resilience of the self-justifying ideas and arguments that drove Britain towards war with China in the 1840s and 1850s: a Western fixation on the idea of unthinking Chinese xenophobia, and on China’s determination to wish the West ill.

The greatest credibility problem for the Yellow Peril is that, historically, it has developed in isolation from opinion and events in China itself. It has thrived on delusional stereotypes generated by Westerners uninterested in what the Chinese themselves have made of events such as the Opium War and their subsequent relations with European invaders – the subject of this book’s remaining chapters. As Sax Rohmer himself proudly told his biographer, ‘I made my name on Fu Manchu because I know nothing about the Chinese!’

* Like the Social Darwinist that he was, Yan was not particularly inclined to question the morality of the balance of power in this brave new world – to him, the foreign invasions that China had endured since 1840 were an inescapable phenomenon of nature. ‘If a people is dispirited and stupid . . . then the society will disintegrate, and when a society in disintegration encounters an aggressive, intelligent, patriotic people, it will be dominated at best, and at worst exterminated’.19 (‘The tides of the world are unstoppable’, agreed Guo Songtao.20) Instead, Yan believed that China must recognize its own flaws and remedy them with the ideas and culture of the West. ‘What are China’s principal troubles?’ he asked. ‘Are they not ignorance, poverty and weakness?’21 Why, he wanted to know, had China failed to pick itself up since the defeat of 1842? ‘The people’s intelligence is not up to the task, and their physical strength and morality are not advanced enough to carry it through.’ The West’s ‘expertise in machinery . . . their steam engines and weaponry’ were only ‘scratches on the surface . . . they are not the blood veins of strength.’ No: the West owed its global supremacy to the two principles of ‘truth in learning’ and ‘justice in politics’. In comparison, almost everything about Chinese tradition struck Yan as hopeless. ‘There are almost innumerable practices in the customs of China, from law and institutions, scholarship and learning, to the ways we eat and live, owing to which the people’s strength is enervated and the quality of the Chinese race debased.’22

If the struggle for survival depended on the cohesion of the group, the Chinese had to bond themselves into the same species of social and political unit that had worked so well for the West and for Japan: the nation. And to do this, the Chinese needed to discipline themselves. The Chinese body politic required a radical overhaul, to teach its constituents to ‘live together, communicate with and rely on each other, and establish laws and institutions, rites and rituals for that purpose . . . we must find a way to make everyone take the nation as his own.’

* China in the third millennium possesses (as it did in the nineteenth century) about as many reasons to fall apart as it does to stick together: banks riddled with bad loans, the challenges of finding employment and pensions for a massive, rapidly ageing workforce, severe social inequality (which, according to Chinese estimates, reached potentially destabilizing levels as early as 1994), government corruption (at the end of 2009, a Chinese newspaper directly blamed the country’s rash of mass incidents on officials ‘blindly pursuing profit’ through ‘expropriating land and demolishing houses’), environmental degradation.

* For 170 years, the Opium War and its afterlives have cast a shadow over Sino-Western relations, both sides tampering with the historical record for their own purposes. Influential nineteenth-century Britons worked hard to fabricate a virtuous casus belli out of an elementary problem of trade deficit: to reinvent the war as a clash of civilizations triggered by the ‘unnaturally’ isolationist Chinese. Joining this blame game, twentieth-century Chinese nation-builders in turn transformed it into the cause of all their country’s troubles: into a black imperialist scheme to enslave a united, heroically resisting China. The reality of the war itself, by contrast, illuminated deep fault lines in the messily multi-ethnic Qing empire, as China’s rulers struggled unsuccessfully to rally its officials, soldiers and subjects against a foreign enemy.

The West’s public stance of self-justification over the war overlaid a moral guilt that has subsequently fanned further fears of, and tensions with, the Chinese state and people. Opium became a symbol both of Western malfeasance and of a sinister Chinese pollution, generating irrational clouds of Yellow Peril suspicion that arguably still haunt our media coverage. In China, meanwhile, opium, defeat and imperialism have manufactured an unstable combination of self-pity, self-loathing and pragmatic admiration for the West that continue to coexist uneasily in Chinese patriots.

Whether Western nations such as Britain have attacked the Chinese for their arrogance in refusing to pay them enough attention or respect, lambasted themselves for what they did or obsessed paranoically about Chinese retribution, one misconception has remained constant: that the West is central to China’s calculations and actions. But both back in the nineteenth century and now, China’s rulers have been primarily preoccupied with domestic affairs, rather than foreign relations. This refusal to look at matters from the perspective of the Chinese state’s own prerogatives helped drive Britain towards war in the nineteenth century, and risks pushing relations towards confrontation in the early twenty-first.

In 1839, the Qing court was too distracted by fears of social unrest to come up voluntarily with a pragmatic response to Western trade demands; Britain interpreted this political paralysis as inveterate xenophobia. In 2010, the situation did not look so very different, with the government infuriating Western states over its rejection of climate-change legislation that might slow growth, its harsh stance on social control and its aversion to compromise on international-trade issues, such as strengthening the yuan relative to the dollar (thereby making exported Chinese manufactures more expensive, foreign imports less so). ‘The current leadership’, China-watcher Jonathan Fenby observed in January 2010, ‘just want to get to retirement without the country collapsing. And their caution sometimes leads them into conflict with the West. Take the question of revaluing the yuan. There’d be plenty of advantages: less danger of a trade war with the US, cheaper imports. But they’re nervous of jeopardizing economic growth or looking like they were capitulating to the West – the public outcry in China might be too great.’57 For the noisy anti-Western nationalism that the state has programmatically engineered since the 1920s (and with renewed energies after 1989) regularly threatens to mutate into anti-government dissidence.

From the age of opium-traders to the Internet, China and the West have been infuriating and misunderstanding each other, despite ever-increasing opportunities for contact, study and mutual sympathy. Ten years into the twenty-first century, the nineteenth is still with us.

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