Bourgeois Liberty and the Politics of Fear: From Absolutism to Neo-Conservatism

415 Pages·2012·3.5 MB·English

by  Marc Mulholland

BOURGEOIS LIBERTY AND
THE POLITICS OF FEAR
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Bourgeois Liberty and
the Politics of Fear
From Absolutism to Neo-Conservatism
MARC MULHOLLAND
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To Victoria Lill
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Preface
In 1842 a German poet living in Paris, Heinrich Heine, wrote that the politics of
the bourgeoisie were ‘motivated by fear’. When terrifi ed of an unleashed working
class, he argued, the middle classes abandoned their historical commitment to
constitutional liberty. Th is was an early statement of an argument that went on to
have a long, contested life. ‘Bourgeois liberty’ has a dual meaning: it is freedom for
a particular class constituency to pursue its lifestyle and seek prosperity in a com-
mercial environment. It is also an ideal: rights of speech, association, and petition
required by the bourgeoisie but extending to all within society. But was the univer-
sal ideal of ‘bourgeois liberty’ undermined by the threat of ‘proletarian democracy’?
Bourgeois fear of the working class has been held responsible for betrayal of the
pan-European revolutions of 1848, for the illiberal forms of unifi cation in Italy
and Germany, for liberal failure of nerve before Bolshevism in Russia in 1917, for
the turn to interwar fascism, and for Western maintenance of military dictator-
ships during the Cold War. And then, as the traditional working class declined, did
the middle classes recover their nerve? At stake in these debates were fundamental
questions of liberty and social order, revolution, and counter-revolution. Th e argu-
ment at core gravitated around that most emotive of concepts: betrayal. Either the
comfortable middle class betrayed workers, peasants, the poor, and liberty by
siding with authoritarian repression; or ideological fanatics betrayed the people’s
trust and desire for civil and political liberties by instituting totalitarian collectiv-
ism. Decisions were forced by agitation, conspiracy, war, and repression. Th e fol-
lowing chapters examine this narrative.
Historical works emphasizing constitutionalism, class, and political meta-narrative
are hardly fashionable these days. Defence for my approach inheres, I hope, in the
account I give. It is worth saying something about terminology, however, for those
who may fi nd my usage quaint. ‘Bourgeois’ and ‘bourgeoisie’ are roughly equiva-
lent to the historical sense of ‘middle class’ as used in Britain. But, of late, ‘middle
class’ has come to designate that 25 per cent of the population on either side of
median income, which has quite diff erent connotations. In the United States, for
example, ‘middle class’ includes most unionized workers. So although I use the
terms interchangeably, I prefer ‘bourgeois’ as more precise. ‘Proletarian’ is roughly
equivalent to ‘worker’—but peasants, artisans, and professionals work too. By my
designation, I wish to indicate a particular class condition, that of the unskilled or
semi-skilled wage earner, or the worker possessed of skills so widely available on the
labour market as to attract no marked salary premium from employers. In my
usage, the proletarian need not work in a smoke-belching factory. Both terms,
bourgeois and proletarian, have been the default common usage for much of my
period across most of the countries I survey. Th ey are therefore my default terms.
I often refer to ‘bourgeois liberalism’ rather than simply ‘liberalism’ to avoid
viii Preface
confusion that might arise from current American usage that folds the term ‘lib-
eral’ into the socially egalitarian ‘left’.
Th is is an avowedly ‘constructed’ history, in that it pursues a theme within an
analytical narrative. Th ough I deal with a long period and wide geographical span,
my coverage of events is selective, and chosen on the basis of relevance to the over-
all argument. Nor do I attempt a synthesis or critique of scholarly interpretations.
Authorities are employed as ‘expert witnesses’ for the case I present. Th ey would no
doubt demur from much they might fi nd herein. I have not written this book as a
history of political thought, though that features, nor as an exercise in comparative
or thematic political science. Still less have I written this book as an exercise in
polemic or political advocacy. I have employed my particular models because I fi nd
them useful and interesting; they do not imply moral judgements one way or an-
other. I am taking an argument and using it to make one kind of sense of a stretch
of modern history. I certainly do not mean to imply that this approach is more
valid than ones which, say, might take as their focus gender, nationality, or religion.
Th e model of ‘bourgeois liberty’, in its various forms, has had a profound impact,
both materially and intellectually, during the period under review. It is enough,
I hope, to demonstrate and illustrate this.
* * *
I fi rst considered themes relevant to this book many years ago in the meeting rooms
of Ballymena and Belfast. Few who were present at these gatherings, perhaps, would
entirely agree with the answers here off ered, but I am grateful that the questions
were posed. A fi rst presentation of my organizing argument was given to the John
Simopolous dinner, for tutors and students, at my college of St Catherine’s. John’s
generous response to this squib set me on the road to writing a full volume, which
took place between full teaching terms. It would not have been the same without
the stimulus of amazing students; I’m hugely grateful to them all. My thanks to
Gervase Rosser, who showed me the intellectual advantage that comes with the
privilege of teaching, marking, and examining. All my other college colleagues have
been unfailingly supportive; Tom Pickles, J. C. Smith, Bart van Es, and Jon Healey
went beyond the call of collegiality in talking through my ruminations.
Usually, I am a historian of Ireland. My colleagues in the fi eld responded to the
project here presented with generous enthusiasm. Discussions with Richard
Bourke, Roy Foster, Matt Kelly, Ian McBride, Alan O’Day, and Senia Pašeta
amongst others have contributed materially to the fi nal product. Of scholars out-
side the fi eld of Ireland, the knowledge and historical sense of Chris Brooke, Adrian
Gregory, and Barbara Warnock have been reliable inspirations.
Michael Fisher, Ultán Gillen, and Richard Michaelis all very generously con-
sented to read parts of the manuscript. Special mention must go to Tim Wilson
who heroically read a draft of the entire book in double-quick time. Comments by
all have been eminently wise, and saved me from many howlers. I should also like
to record my gratitude to my editors at Oxford University Press, Christopher
Wheeler and Stephanie Ireland, who adroitly guided me through the process of
Preface ix
submission, and to Richard Mason, my copy-editor, and Nicola Sangster, my proof
reader, who with speed and effi ciency rescued me from many obscurities and sole-
cisms. OUP’s three anonymous readers made excellent suggestions that I have been
very happy to act upon. Naturally only I am responsible for any errors of fact and
judgement remaining.
Friends have proven remarkably tolerant of my moiderings on ‘the book’: they
were always rocks of support. Particular thanks to Rachel Buxton, David Fowler,
Gerald Lang, Catrin Lowe, Rónán McDonald, Julian McGale, Icarus Panchaud,
Jessica Th omas, James Th ompson, and Laura Warnock. As ever, my siblings—
Kathleen, Ciarán, Pádraig, Deidre, Niall, Ita, Áine, and Breandan—provided un-
stinting familial solidarity. Eilís and Oisín Mulholland, and their mother Lois,
keep me grounded with family on this island. My parents, Ita and Dominic, have
been ever loving, inspirational, and wise. I owe everything to them.
My partner, Victoria Lill, has lived with this project as much as I have. Her ready
interest, support, and perceptiveness consistently raised my game, and she has made
a vital contribution to the fi nished work. Even more importantly, Victoria has been
my best friend and true love for over a decade. I dedicate this book to her.