Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Scales of Justice Tilt for Thee . . . Or, the Right Right for the Left


I have a really hard time understanding conservatives. And not in a “how could they possibly believe that” sort of way. I mean that I have a hard time generally just following their line of thought. It must have something to do with the venue: National Review and other partisan outlets, such as FOX News, are mostly writing to themselves. They service an increasingly restricted demographic—their audience is shrinking—and as a result they can assume that their audience already knows the game. I like to imagine it’s a bit like people who are really into curling. To them it’s grand strategy; to me, it’s just some guys huddling around a rock on the ice.

The problem, as I see it, is that while they’re talking to themselves, they’re not talking to anybody else. Their ideas get lost in self-referential jargon and inside jokes. To insiders, it makes those ideas more accessible and helps foster an environment of exclusion: like culture broadly speaking, it helps distinguish “us” from “them.” But it quickly starts sounding as though you’re preaching to the converted; without external references, ideas get trapped in a feedback loop. Fundamentally what this means is that those inside the loop lose perspective.

It’s the same with liberals, of course. The Right has no monopoly on self-referential ideology. But as the United States moves farther to the left, it has embraced a form of liberalism that advances a notion of just behind what John Rawls referred to as the veil of ignorance—that we should all be treated equally before the law. Behind that veil, people are treated as individuals absent race, gender, sexual orientation, income, or what have you.

To conservatives, this perspective is patently absurd. Justice, in their sense, is a function of divine order: the world is naturally arranged so that certain people assume authority, be they kings, priests, generals, or fathers. To be virtuous, one had to rely on strict adherence to those hierarchies. A son had a duty to a father, whose duty was also to the church and state. Liberalism inverts that order, placing the duty on the state to the individual, famously in the idea of a blindfolded goddess balancing the scales of justice. The point is that she doesn’t know who is on either side: a gay man, a black teen, or the state.

Of course, as citizens we do have obligations to the state and to society generally. Conservatives are not wrong in that sense. Our democracy only works when each citizen is engaged in the body politic through voting (at the very least), expressing their opinions to elected representatives, and observing duties to their fellow citizen, among so many other obligations. The reason that Rousseau thought democracies could only work in small countries was because people were geographically close enough to talk to one another. So while chatting isn’t exactly a panacea, it would certainly go a long ways toward alleviating many of the difficulties liberals and conservatives are having getting their point across.

When you say it like that, of course, it sounds silly. Even trite. But it requires the moral courage to assume that your interlocutor is capable of kindness and charity, and then the far more difficult task of extending those virtues yourself.