Free to do as we're told
Daniel Britten, The Observer (London), 14 June 1998
The idea of an over-arching ideology, or "grand narrative" theory of history embracing politics, economics and philosophy has gone out of fashion nowadays. Those who have tried it, such as John Gray and Francis Fukuyama, have generally been vilified for what many see as excessive hubris. The very concept of ideology, or of envisaging a radically better world, seems redundant to the post-modern mentality. Yet the central thesis of this erudite and brilliantly readable book is that we have now fallen under the insidious grip of the third major ideology of the twentieth century: corporatism.
Corporatism, Saul argues, arises from an excessive worship of the free market. Contrary to the prevailing assumption that democracy is stimulated by unfettered capitalism, he believes that we are now governed by an elite of managers and bureaucrats who undermine democracy by excluding the ordinary citizen from the decision-making process and placing it in the hands of self-appointed interest groups. These elites fail to fulfil their social responsibilities because, instead of investing in things that are necessary for a healthy economy, such as a truly comprehensive education system and a well-funded public sector, they merely expand themselves into endless layers of "specialists". Saul goes as far as to compare them with the elites that existed before the French Revolution and the collapse of the Roman Empire. In both epochs, a bloated aristocracy built "a wall between themselves and reality by creating an artificial sense of well-being on the inside." Meanwhile, in the West today, between 30 and 50 million are unemployed and the elites can only respond by engaging in more rounds of self-perpetuating cuts.
Saul maintains that corporatism is not a new political philosophy as such. In fact, it can be traced back as far as the Florentine Renaissance and has resurfaced periodically throughout the twentieth century. It was first given intellectual shape by the sociologists Max Weber and Emile Durkheim in the 1890s. Durkheim said: "The corporation's rule secures for the state the deferential citizenry...and so frees it to govern on the basis of 'morality' itself." Later, corporatism reached its zenith under Mussolini, who claimed that it was a system characterised by "efficiency, professionalism and management by experts." He saw his function as heroic leader as being merely to pacify the populace and ensure that they didn't get out of control. He summarised the flow of history thus: "Liberty was for caveman, but civilisation meant a progressive diminution in personal freedoms."
Saul's argument is fascinating because he insists that, ironically, although the Western powers defeated communism and fascism - both extended forms of corporatism - they have now been seduced by the same notion that society is better run by competing interest groups operating within a free market. The problem with this philosophy, Saul avers, is that the free market creates an "unconscious civilisation" which suppresses any form of individual free expression or awareness of the greater collective good.
In this way conformity crushes the creative essence of the economy. Companies are increasingly forced to bring in talent rather than nurturing it within their own ranks. Meanwhile, cuts continue to demoralise the workforce and productivity diminishes. As the president of Petro-Canada said: "You can't shrink to greatness." Saul believes that the West has been engaged in what he describes as a "slow, masochistic suicide" over the past 25 years, although the statistics he produces to prove this point are open to debate.
Surprisingly, given the complexity of his argument and the savagery of his attack upon existing trends, the book has found support in some exalted places. John Howard, the Australian Prime Minister, and Lloyd Axworthy, the Canadian equivalent to Robin Cook, are among those who have supported it publicly, and it has risen to the top of the best-seller lists in their respective countries. What should make it doubly impressive to the British reader is that, although it was first published in Canada three years ago, many of the characteristics that he ascribes to a corporate society can be observed in current UK Government policy.
For example, he points to the way the elites champion technology as the means to a more open and efficient society while in reality, he says, they continue to control the flow of information, but are incapable of seeing beyond their own particular fields. "Knowledge," he says, "is more effectively used today to justify wrong being done than to prevent it."
Within this context, politicians are forced to claim that historical phenomena such as globalisation and the money markets are beyond their control.
Saul quotes Tony Blair describing how the global market "imposes huge limitations of a practical nature - quite apart from reasons of principle - on macro-economic policies."
As a result, politics itself becomes shallow and personality-driven, and is rendered effectively powerless to address the real problems of unemployment, social breakdown and the economy. Most perceptively, Saul points to the increasing use of referenda and similar mechanisms which present the illusion of direct democracy while the real, complex questions are dealt with behind the scenes. George Grant described referenda as "decisiveness...at the expense of 'thoughtfulness'."
In many ways, Saul's argument might sound like the sort of jeremiad one expects from one of the disenchanted Left but for the fact that it shares a number of things in common with the argument put forward by the late, conservative historian Christopher Lasch in his book The Revolt of the Elites. Both men observe that the elites are full of loathing for themselves as they are for the masses, because they place excessive value on individualism and consumerism.
Unfortunately, like Lasch, he offers little in terms of concrete solutions to the problems created by corporatism. For the public sector he tentatively suggests a return to old-style nationalisation, claiming that privatising public utilities diverts important financial resources away from new areas of investment and growth.
At one point he even puts up an astonishing defence of "the nanny state", claiming that "A great deal of what it does, it does very well".
More profound, however, is his plea for a radical reform of the education system which would place more emphasis on the need for individual self-understanding and nonconformity. He reminds us that to "know thyself", in the words of Socrates, lies at the heart of any civilised society. The tragedy is that our educators and especially our universities have been co-opted into the corporatist system, becoming obsessed with operating as businesses rather than with instilling deeper philosophical values. Time and again Saul stresses the need for us to remember that knowledge of the past is vital for self-understanding. As Cicero said: "He who does not know history is destined to remain a child."
Saul argues that one of the seductions of corporatism is that it constitutes what Jung called a kind of "gentle and painless slipping back into the kingdom of childhood...the paradise of parental care." Increasingly, education is seen as being of strictly utilitarian benefit and neglects to answer the big questions about who we are and what sort of society we should live in. It will come as no surprise to Saul to learn that the British government is again considering allowing 14-year-olds to leave school in order to join apprenticeship schemes.
Saul's outstanding piece of polemic, which at heart is a plea for a return to a now forgotten set of humanistic values., should, at the very least, be read by those who are responsible for determining the curriculum. It might remind them that education is about more than teaching people how to read and write. After all, there's not much point in learning to do either if it merely enables you to understand the next redundancy letter.
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