Introduction: a critique of classical and contemporary arguments
The notion of technocracy is at the heart of contemporary political discourse and debates. At the height of the Eurozoneâs economic crisis, in November 2011, both the Italian and the Greek prime ministers were replaced by figures widely identified as technocrats (Donadio 2011, Verney and Bosco 2013). In debates over the European Unionâs supposed âdemocratic deficitâ, its institutions are often described as technocratic (Føllesdal and Hix 2006, Habermas 2015, Majone 1998, Moravcsik 2002). Finally, in the discussions that preceded the 2016 vote for âBrexitââbut also in many of the national elections that have taken place since then, such as in the United States and in Franceâthe choice has often been framed in terms of an opposition between nationalist âpopulismâ on the one hand and liberal âtechnocracyâ on the other (Bickerton 2016, Bickerton and Invernizzi Accetti 2015, Caramani 2017, Giugni and Rubinelli 2015, Invernizzi Accetti 2016, Leonard 2017).
Underpinning most of these references to technocracy is the assumption that the latter consists of an appeal to expertise as the basis for political legitimacy. Academic definitions of the term reflect this assumption. In his seminal 1969 text on the subject, Jean Meynaud defined technocracy as âa system of government in which technically trained experts rule by virtue of their specialized knowledge and position in dominant political and economic institutionsâ (Meynaud 1969: 31). Along similar lines, in a more contemporary example, Duncan McDonnell and Macro Valbruzzi laid out three requirements for classifying a prime minister or a minister as a technocrat (see also Valbruzzi, Chapter 6 in this volume, on technocratic cabinets). The first was that, at the time of appointment, he or she had never held public office under the banner of a political party. The second was not being a formal member of any party and the third was to have ârecognized non-party political expertise, which is directly relevant to the role occupied in governmentâ (McDonnell and Valbruzzi 2014: 657â58).
From such definitions, it follows that there is an irreducible tension between technocracy and democracy. Democracy rests upon a principle of âidentityâ between the rulers and the ruled, where the âpeopleââconstrued as the object of governmentâare also its subject and are therefore the ultimate basis of political legitimacy (Bobbio 2005, Dahl 1956, Habermas 1989, Kelsen 1929). In contrast, technocracy introduces a quite different principle of legitimacy. The term implies that some people can legitimately rule over others, by virtue of their technical competence or administrative expertise (Centeno 1993, Centeno and Silva 1998, Dargent 2014, Fischer 1990, 2009, Radaelli 1999b).
In this chapter, we do not deny this tension between technocracy and democracy. However, we find that defenders of technocracy today rarely make this tension explicit. Instead, a claim about the complementarity between technocracy and democracy underpins contemporary arguments for technocracy. Technocratic political arrangements are said to bolster a broadly democratic system of government by increasing its âoutput legitimacyâ in specific policy domains (Scharpf 1999). Thus, Claudio Radaelli has drawn a useful distinction between what we call in this chapter the classical arguments for technocracy, those which âadvocated for a direct rise to power of expertsâ, and more contemporary ones, which are âformally respectful of democratic values and institutionsâ (Radaelli 1999b: 24).
The intention behind these contemporary arguments for technocracy is to carve out spaces for (relatively) autonomous decision making by experts, within a political system that continues to draw its legitimacy from the democratic ideal of âidentityâ between the rulers and the ruled. The widespread proliferation of âquasi-autonomous agenciesâ devoted to the regulation of specific areas of policy within the nation states is an example of this (Elgie 2006, Gilardi 2002, Rosanvallon 2011). So too is the delegation of specific policy competences to supranational bodies such as the European Central Bank or the European Commission (Bickerton 2012, 2016, Majone 1994, 1996, Moravcsik 2002).
In this chapter, we argue that despite the often-made claim about complementarity, contemporary arguments for technocracy continue to represent an important challenge to the democratic idea of collective self-rule. They do this by implicitly assuming that the boundaries between the democratic and technocratic areas of decision making are themselves matters of technical expertise. They thereby ultimately end up placing expertsâand not the âpeopleââin the position of sovereign. As a result, the relationship between democracy and technocracy poses once again the question of where ultimate authority resides within a polity. Contemporary claims around complementarity between democracy and expertise elide this more fundamental conflict, which has been an integral part of the development of modern societies and their reliance upon expert knowledge. As Harald Laski put it back in 1931, in a pamphlet entitled âThe Limitations of the Expertâ, experts should be âon tap, not on topâ (Laski 1931). This principle is far easier to formulate in theory than it is to implement in practice. The question of where final authority resides is constantly posed anew by concrete developments and policy innovations, as is clear from the discussion of the EUâs democratic deficit later in the chapter.
To demonstrate this, the chapter proceeds in three parts. In the first, we reconstruct the âclassicalâ argument for technocracy, through an engagement with the work of the author we think has formulated it in the most powerful and long-lasting way: Plato. We show that his argument for empowering philosophers relied on a conflation of two domains that classical Greek political culture had previously kept rigorously separate: that of politics, construed as a domain of âself-realizationâ, and that of economics, construed as the domain of the satisfaction of material âneedsâ (Arendt 1958). This conflation allowed Plato to portray politics as a techneâthat is, an âartâ or a âcraftâ requiring a specific kind of knowledge. On this basis, Plato could maintain that only those with such knowledge (i.e. those he called philosophers, and what we would probably refer to as experts) should be entitled to rule, independently of whether they obtain the consent of the demos.
In the second part of the chapter, we show that while versions of this âclassicalâ argument for technocracy persist in some circles today, the transfer of power to experts is predominantly justified through an idea of a separation between different policy domains. Whilst some domains should be left to the âpeopleâ to decide over democratically, others are, for a variety of reasons, better entrusted to expert decision making. Far from representing an alternative to democracy, technocracy thus complements and enhances democratic legitimacy. In this second part, we show that this argument comes in a variety of guises, and we identify several different criteria that have been put forward for determining how the boundaries between technocratic and democratic policy areas should be drawn. However, we also observe that these different accounts share the common assumption that the boundaries between separate policy areas are themselves a matter of technical expertise, and should therefore not to subject to the dynamics of political contestation. In this way, contemporary arguments for technocracy end up subordinating the democratic exercise of collective self-government to a prior exercise of technical competence, which subverts the chain of authorization commonly associated with democratic politics. We can also see here a clear difference between contemporary instances of empowering technocratic authority and what is more generally referred to as âliberal constitutionalismâ (Elster and Slagstad 1988, Holmes 1988). Whilst the latter is concerned with empowering non-majoritarian institutions, these institutions were created as part of a wider constitutional settlement bound up with attempts at enacting popular sovereignty. As Martin Loughlin has put it, the non-majoritarian components of liberalism are best thought of as expressions or explications of the basic principle of popular self-government rather than as limitations or external constraints on this principle (Loughlin 2003).
Contemporary instances of delegating power to technocratic institutions are not part of any such constitutional moment, and their legitimacy rests far more heavily on assumptions about the specific characteristics of certain policy domains.1 The same applies for distinctions between technocracy and judicial power. There is an element of expertise associated with law, and the practice of courts requires that conflicts are depoliticized and both parties accept the arbitration of the third party (Bickerton 2017, Carr 1995). However, the law itself originates in the deliberation and decisions of elected bodies, such that the boundary between judicial power and technocracy more broadly is clear. As Anthony King put it, judges have become controversial in recent years not because they are seeking to expand their power at the expense of a parliament or an executive, but because politicians have invited judges to make controversial decisions (2015: 273).
The third part of the chapter makes the case that this contemporary way of arguing for technocracy is more insidious for democratic political systems than the classical arguments advanced by Plato and his successors. The Platonic argument for technocracy construes it as a utopian ideal, which can function as the ground for a partisan political project within a democratic political regime (as was the case, for instance, with the âTechnocracyâ movement of the 1930s in the United States). In contrast, contemporary arguments for technocracy undermine the very space in which a public contestation of the relative merits of technocracy and democracy could take place, by defining a priori the objective boundaries of their respective spheres of legitimacy.
The classical argument for technocracy
It is generally accepted that Platoâs argument for the idea that philosophers ought to rule relied on a prior conception of politics as a techne: a term now commonly translated as âartâ or âcraftâ, but which has a broader significance in the context of Platoâs work (Harvey 2009, Wadia 1987, Wild 1963). Its two key features are the idea of an activity oriented towards a specific goal (ergon) and the assumption that this requires a specific kind of knowledge (episteme). The most common examples Plato refers to are medicineâthe goal of which is supposed to be âhealthâ, and the knowledge required to attain it, âknowledge of the human bodyââand what he calls âshepherdshipâ, namely the herding of sheep, which requires knowledge about the ânature of sheep and their needsâ (Bambrough 1963). Analogously, Plato assumed that the goal of politics is the âherding of human beingsâ (The Statesman: 267c). The knowledge required for that was the âknowledge of human natureâ and its âneedsâ.
On this basis, Plato reaches the notorious conclusion that philosophers (i.e. people who possess a specific kind of knowledge and therefore skills) ought to rule. In the dialogue on The Statesman, for instance, the main character asserts that: âPhysicians offer a particularly good example of this point of view. Whether they cure us against our will or with our will, by cutting us or burning us or causing us pain in any other way ⌠we call them physicians just the same, so long as they exercise authority by art or scienceâ (293b). By analogy, the same character then adds, âamong forms of government, that one is preeminently right and is the only real government, in which the rulers are found to be truly possessed of science, not merely to seem to possess it ⌠whether their subjects are willing or unwillingâ (293c).
This is the core of what we shall call the classic argument for technocracy. What still needs to be explained, however, are the grounds on which Plato maintains that politics can be understood as a techne. Some commentators have suggested he simply âtakes this for grantedâ (e.g. Accattino 1997: xv), but that would mean his whole argument for technocracy was just question-begging. In reality, Plato presents a powerful argument to support his key premise. In The Republic, when Socrates and Adeimantus begin constructing Platoâs âideal cityâ, Socrates makes clear that the reason why human beings enter into cities in the first place is the satisfaction of their material âneedsâ. âThe origin of the cityâ, he states,
lies in the fact that we are not, any of us, self-sufficient ⌠Different individuals, then, form associations with one person to meet one need, and with another to meet a different need. With this variety of wants, they may collect a number of partners and allies into one place of habitation, and to this joint habitation we give the name city (269bâc).
This premise represented a radical break with key features of ancient Athenian political culture, which Plato was writing in (and against). Both Hannah Arendt (1958) and Moses Finley (1973) have emphasized that classical Greek political culture distinguished categorically between the domains of the oikosâthe âhomeâ construed as the domain for the satisfaction of âmaterial needsâ (i.e. production and reproduction)âand the polis, construed as the domain where free men would meet and act together as equals in pursuit of their âself-realizationâ. From this perspective, âeconomicsâ was understood as the set of norms (nomos) that pertained to the oikos. As Arendt further notes, these are necessarily âdespoticâ norms since the satisfaction of material needs is a techne which admits of right and wrong approaches. In contrast, the polis was assumed to be a domain in which âfree menâ would encounter each other on a basis of equality, and collectively strive for their individual âself-realizationâ (Arendt 1958: 28â37).
By claiming that human beings originally entered into cities to satisfy their material needs, Plato radically broke with this whole framework, implying that politics was about what his contemporaries would have called economics. This is precisely what Aristotle accuses him of at the beginning of his own treatise on Politics (1252a: 1â7). The conflation between the domains of politics and economics allows Plato to maintain that politics is a techne and therefore that only people who possess a specific kind of knowledge should rule. As we pointed out earlier, the Greeks assumed that the satisfaction of material needs was a science, and hence required a specific kind of knowledge to be carried out correctly. In contrast, the distinctively political activity of encountering others as equals and acting together for the purpose of everyoneâs self-realization does not suppose any specific knowledge that would be available to some more than others.
This is expressed, in the form of a myth, in Platoâs Protagoras, where the title character attempts to defend democracy against Socratesâs competence-based approach. He maintains that whereas other âskillsâ were originally distributed by the gods in different measures to different animals and human beings, the capacity of âbeing politicalâ was distributed equally to all human beings (320d1â322a2). The deeper point is that if politics is construed as a domain of freedom, and as oriented towards the âself-realizationâ of its participants (as opposed to the satisfaction of their material âneedsâ), then there cannot strictly be a science of politics. Human beings can only be free if they are allowed to pursue their self-realization in the way they think best. It is in this sense, therefore, that we contend that Platoâs argument for construing politics as a techne depends on a prior conflation of the domains of politics and economics. Doing so excises the notion of freedom fro...