Democratic Extremism in Theory and Practice
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Democratic Extremism in Theory and Practice

Paul Lucardie

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Democratic Extremism in Theory and Practice

Paul Lucardie

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About This Book

Democracy and extremism are usually considered as opposites. We assume that our system (in the UK, the USA, the Netherlands etc.) is democratic, and extremists try to destroy our system and introduce some kind of dictatorship, if not chaos and anarchy. Yet in many cases, the extremists seem sincere in their attempt to construct a more democratic polity. Hence, they can be called democrats and yet also extremists, in so far as they strive for a regime with characteristics that are more extreme in a significant sense.

This book analyses radical and extreme democratic theories and ideas in their historical context, interlocked with critical descriptions of historical institutions and experiments that help to evaluate the theories. Cases range from ancient Athens to recent experiments with citizen juries and citizen assemblies, from the time-honoured Swiss Landsgemeinde to contemporary (and controversial) workers' councils in Venezuela and participatory budgeting in Porto Alegre. Among the theorists discussed here are familiar names as well as relatively unknown persons: Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Karl Marx, Murray Bookchin and John Burnheim, William Godwin and Barbara Goodwin, Anton Pannekoek and Heinz Dieterich. Whereas the extreme ideas do not seem to work very well in practice, they do indicate ways by which we could make existing political systems more democratic.

This book will be of interest to students of Politics and Current Affairs, as well as inspiration to political activists and reformists.

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Publisher
Routledge
Year
2013
ISBN
9781317934066
1 Introduction
Politics is about power. ‘Who gets what, when, how’, in the succinct definition of the British political scientist Harold Lasswell (1950).1 Students of politics have always pondered how power is distributed in the world they know – and how it should be distributed in an ideal world.
In one of the first classical texts on politics, written presumably around 380 BCE, the Greek political philosopher Plato argues – through the mouth of his teacher Socrates – that ideally political power should be put in the hands of a select group of philosophers ([Lee] 1955: 233). These philosophers should be educated and trained in a rigorous mental and physical discipline in order to serve and guard the common interest of the community. Other citizens should not worry about politics, but instead confine themselves to their own trade or profession. For Plato, the exercise of political power was clearly a profession, and one not to be trusted to laymen. Unfortunately, he observed that philosophers did not rule any of the states he was familiar with. They were imperfect societies, governed by military aristocracies, monarchs, propertied oligarchies or – even worse – the common people.
In Plato’s eyes, rule by the people – demokratia – as practiced in his native Athens, was a degenerated regime: an anarchic society where everyone did as they pleased, and where the poor reigned at the expense of the rich. Officials were selected by lot rather than by merit or noble birth. A few decades later, Plato’s student Aristotle gave a similar description of democracy: ‘the system of all ruling over each, and each, in his turn, over all’, where all important decisions are taken by a popular assembly of citizens, rather than by elected officials or hereditary rulers ([Barker] 1958: 258). Aristotle (and probably most of his contemporaries) regarded rule by elected officials as a form of aristocracy. After all, aristokratia means rule by the best (aristoi), and people should elect the best possible leaders, at least in their own opinion. Aristotle, who was not an Athenian citizen and did not share Plato’s utopian ideal of a philosophical elite, preferred a mixture of democracy and aristocracy.
By the time Aristotle died in 322 BCE Athens had just lost her independence. Like other Greek city-states it was absorbed first into the Macedonian kingdom, then later into the Roman Empire. Democratic practices may have survived in other parts of the world, such as in the Persian city of Susa and, to some extent, in Arab towns (Sen, 2006: 52–53; Keane, 2009: 126–153). Indeed, Phoenician and Mesopotamian city-states might even have practiced democracy long before the Greeks (Hornblower, 1993: 2; Keane, 2009: 104–126). Unfortunately, these experiences are not very well documented. The writings of Plato and Aristotle, on the other hand, have resisted the ravages of time, thanks to Arabic and Latin translations. Therefore, the classical Greek conception of democracy as rule by a popular assembly survived the death of the democratic city-state in Greece and has continued to inspire political theory as well as practice into today.
In the modern era, however, city-states have become quite scarce. Most of them were gradually swallowed up by nation-states. The size of the latter made it practically impossible to gather all citizens in an assembly. For aristocrats and monarchists this fact merely confirmed that democracy was an outdated and unrealistic ideal in the modern era. They believed that large states should be ruled by either an (elected or hereditary) elite or by a single person. People with democratic sympathies, therefore, had to invent something new. The result was ‘representation ingrafted upon democracy’, in the apt phrase of Thomas Paine, the English artisan who helped to trigger the American Revolution with his pamphlets ([1792] 1989: 170). Citizens should elect delegates who would serve their interest and implement their demands.
In a similar vein, the French revolutionary leader Robespierre defined his ideal democracy as ‘a state in which the people, as sovereign, guided by laws of its own making, does for itself all that it can do well, and by its delegates what it cannot’ (Robespierre, 1967: 352–353; see also: Hobson, 2008: 461, 463; Palmer, 1953: 215).2 Though Christopher Hobson praises the Jacobin leader for making the break with the classical notion of direct democracy, one cannot help but detect a certain ambivalence in the definition (see also Fontana, 1993: 112). Popular participation remained an important ideal for Robespierre and other Jacobins. In the French constitution that was approved by the revolutionary parliament in 1793 – but never implemented because of the civil war that was ravaging several parts of the country – citizens should take part in ‘primary assemblies’ at the local level, not only to elect delegates to parliament, but also to approve or initiate legislation (Tþnneson, 1988). Some revolutionaries, nicknamed the sans-culottes because they could not afford the knee-breeches (culottes) worn by the more well-to-do citizens, wanted to go even further and give specific instructions or a binding mandate to the delegates (more about this in Chapter 4).
More moderate French revolutionaries preferred a government by representatives who were elected but not controlled by the people – representative democracy in the contemporary sense, but in those days usually called ‘republican’, ‘mixed government’ or ‘mixed constitution’ (Fontana, 1993: 117; Rosanvallon, 2000: 9–17; Urbinati, 2008: 1–3; Wood, 1993a: 92–94). The moderates lost the struggle against the Jacobins in the 1790s, but would prevail in the long run – not only in France, but also in most other parts of the modern world. In America, similar ideas had already triumphed a decade earlier, when the United States gained independence and adopted its own constitution (Wood, 1993a). Alexander Hamilton, a rather moderate leader of that revolution, had argued for ‘representative democracy’ as early as 1777 or 1788 (according to Christophersen, 1968: 287, or Wood, 1993a: 98, respectively). Most of his contemporaries still shunned the term, but from 1800 ‘democracy’ began to lose its pejorative meaning and gained acceptance as a description of the American regime.
However, by the nineteenth century this ‘representative democracy’ had itself changed. By 1825 practically all white American men had the right to vote, but the candidates they could vote for were usually professional politicians affiliated with organised political parties. Politics was no longer the province of gentlemen-farmers and other amateurs (Wood, 1993b: 287–305). The Jacksonian Democrats that ruled the US at that time used democratic rhetoric, but also monarchist practices such as patronage. Similar changes took place in Europe, though much later. In many countries universal suffrage (for men and women) was introduced around 1918. By then, the ruling classes no longer associated ‘democracy’ with revolution, anarchy and domination by the poor masses, but with regular elections and competition between political parties (Maier, 1993; Maier, 1972; see also Christophersen, 1968: 287–290; Nordmann, 1974: 77). However, this competition involved divergent world views, not merely rivalry between ambitious politicians. Citizens could have some impact upon the policies decided by their delegates by voting for a party, and even more by joining that party and taking part in meetings, nominating candidates and drafting programmes. They could also join a pressure group or movement, such as a trade union or a farmers’ league, which would articulate their collective interests and influence public opinion, the political parties and the government and its policies.
Three theoretical perspectives
Modern representative democracy, therefore, is more than electoral democracy, the Italian-born political theorist Nadia Urbinati argues. It implies the active involvement of citizens as well as interaction between representatives and electors (Urbinati, 2008: 4, 5, 44). She realises that existing states do not always measure up to this ideal and worries about the rise of populism and the influence of money in politics (Landemore, 2007). She also favours institutions such as referendum and recall, in order to give more power to voters, provided that representatives retain substantial autonomy and do not have to carry out instructions from their constituents (Urbinati, 2008: 29). Urbinati belongs (in her own words) to a ‘tiny minority of theorists’ who argue that ‘representation is not an alternative to but in fact supports democratic participation’ (2008: 3). Hanna Pitkin had already blazed this trail, as Urbinati acknowledges, in her pioneering work on representation (1967). The Australian-born political theorist Michael Saward follows a similar trail, while arguing that even ‘pure’ direct democracy requires representative politics (2010: 160–164). Representation is not ‘second best’, but indispensable in any democratic system. Representative claims are not only made by elected politicians, but also by political activists, lobbyists and ‘ordinary’ citizens participating in a public meeting (see also Saward, 2012).
Perhaps Urbinati exaggerates her minoritarian position; certainly, if we go beyond the realm of political theory. Her view of representative democracy as ‘real’ democracy rather than a substitute for direct rule by the people seems far from rare or uncommon among political scientists, politicians or journalists, and probably also many ordinary voters (see also NĂ€sström, 2011: 509). Robert Dahl, an influential American academic, defined the democratic process by five criteria: opportunities for effective citizen participation, equal voting rights, enlightened understanding of alternatives by the citizens, control of the agenda by the people and equal opportunities to acquire resources (1989: 106–118). He admits these conditions are not always met in real life, hence he prefers the term ‘polyarchy’ to ‘democracy’. Yet even in polyarchies elections insure at the very least that ‘political leaders will be somewhat responsive to the preferences of some ordinary citizens’ (Dahl, 1956: 131).
Quite a few scholarly observers question even this cautious liberal description of the present political systems in Europe and North America, however. The Italian historian Luciano Canfora regards the present regime in France, Italy and similar countries as a modern ‘mixed system’: ‘a little democracy, and a great deal of oligarchy’ (2006: 216). People can freely express their views, but decisions are taken by an oligarchy that eludes the control of elected bodies. Voters are manipulated by mass media and can only elect politicians who belong to the same (middle) class and adhere to the same ideology: ‘the plebiscite of the market’ and ‘the worship of wealth’ (Canfora, 2006: 214–232). His conception of democracy seems close to the classical one, even if he is not uncritical about Athenian democracy. Rather than a ‘people’s government’, it was, in his eyes, a regime controlled by a section of the ‘rich’ and the ‘gentry’ that ‘had mastered the art of speaking’ and was willing to accommodate the mass of poor citizens to some extent (Canfora, 2006: 21–34). Even so, he considers the values cherished by the Athenians – liberty and equality – to still be relevant and inspiring.
The French-born political scientist Bernard Manin and the Swiss constitutionalist Alois Riklin also describe the prevailing political systems in the Western world as ‘mixed constitutions’. Election is ‘an aristocratic or oligarchic procedure in that it reserves public office for eminent individuals whom their fellow citizens deem superior to others’, Manin writes (1997: 238). Moreover, in a modern system the elected representatives are not bound by imperative mandates or pledges and cannot be recalled, so they remain independent from their electors; this independence separates representation from ‘popular rule’ (Manin, 1997: 237). Yet representative government has a democratic dimension, too, as representatives are (usually) subject to re-election and will be held to account by their voters. Riklin points out that modern mixed constitutions (in German: Mischverfassungen) suffer more from plutocratic tendencies within the (professionalised) political elite than their ancient predecessors, but also contain stronger democratic elements because of universal suffrage (2006: 406–408). The German political scientist Uwe Backes defends a similar position in his study of political extremism (2006: 240–241).
The Dutch historian and philosopher Frank Ankersmit seemed more negative in his farewell lecture: what most of us call ‘representative democracy’ is really ‘elective aristocracy’ (2010). In his opinion, Urbinati ignores the real gap between the political elite and the people and has dissolved the notion of sovereignty into a meaningless abstraction (Ankersmit, 2010: 8–11).
Other scholars refer to the existing system as ‘post-democracy’ (Crouch, 2004), incomplete democracy (Arblaster, 1987), ‘thin democracy’ (Barber, [1984] 1990) or ‘elite-managed democracy’ (Wolin, 2008). According to the American political philosopher Sheldon Wolin, citizens in his country are not represented by politicians, but politics is re-presented to the citizens (2008: 261). Citizens have been made ‘as predictable as consumers’ and no longer question the regime ideology (Wolin, 2008: 47). The regime has become totalitarian in a subtle, almost gentle way, without the brutal repression that characterised earlier totalitarian regimes.
Ankersmit, Canfora and most other critical observers of the prevailing system seem to adhere to a classical conception of democracy, centred on popular participation in decision-making – whether through popular assemblies or other forms. Although their interpretation of the system as elitist may not be shared by Urbinati and Dahl, it does resemble the view of a third category of scholars who are often called ‘elitist democrats’ or ‘democratic elitists’. The political economist Joseph Schumpeter is usually seen as the founding father of this school. Schumpeter, who was born in Austria but moved to the US in 1932, defined democracy as ‘the institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals acquire the power to decide by means of a competitive struggle for the people’s vote’ (1976: 269). In other words, the people can vote for one of two or more competing elites, but cannot take any other decisions. Schumpeter’s definition became quite influential among sociologists and political scientists, for example Seymour Martin Lipset (1963: 27; see also Pateman, 1970: 3–5). Public choice theorists such as William Riker argue on similar lines: democracy means ‘a popular veto’, not ‘popular rule’ (1982: 244). Riker shows in detail that the outcome of a popular vote can never be interpreted unambiguously as ‘the will of the people’, as it is always dependent upon the way in which alternatives are presented and votes are counted. He considers the theory of a ‘responsible party system’ where political parties offer voters a clear choice between policies – more or less what Urbinati argues for – to be a ‘populist illusion’ (Riker, 1982: 63). Voters cannot choose policies, only policy-makers. Even then, they may not have sufficient information (and commitment) to make a reasonable choice, but at least they exercise a veto ‘by which it is sometimes possible to restrain official tyranny’ (Riker, 1982: 244). Though Riker prefers to call his theory ‘liberal democracy’, critics consider it neither liberal nor democratic and compare it to Plato’s rule by philosopher-guardians (Gilley, 2009: 116).
The word ‘democracy’ may have hundreds of meanings, yet in simplifying the scholarly debate we can distinguish three theoretical perspectives or schools which differ not only in terms of semantics, but also on substance and often also take different normative positions.
First there is the classical school, which has basically retained the definition of Plato and Aristotle. In a democracy, all (or at least most) important decisions should be taken by the people, as directly as possible. In the eyes of classical democrats, the United States and most European states are at best ‘incomplete’, ‘thin’ or ‘weak’ democracies; or, more accurately, mixed regimes; or, worse, elective aristocracies, ruled by elites that may be elected but are not controlled by the people. Whereas Plato and (to a lesser extent) Aristotle held a rather negative opinion about rule by the people and preferred an aristocracy or a ‘mixed regime’, their modern heirs usually value democracy very positively and often regret that contemporary political systems do not measure up to it. There are exceptions, such as Manin, who seems quite content with the prevailing ‘mixed constitution’ (1997: 238; see also Landemore, 2007).
Second, the elitist school agrees (more or less) with this analysis of Western regimes but considers them worthy of the term ‘democracy’, with all the positive connotations the term entails. Real rule by the people is, in the eyes of the elitists, an impossible pipedream. And if it were possible at all, it would not even be desirable: it would probably end in chaos. Competition between elites is the best a democrat can hope for. Democracy means free elections, nothing more.
A third position in between these two schools has been defended by Urbinati, Saward and, in a different context, also by Dahl. They argue that the existing system does allow people considerable influence upon policy-making, through elections, direct political action and the pressure of public opinion. Decisions are taken in a kind of dialogue between politicians and citizens; hence, I would refer to this school as ‘dialectical democrats’, yet without the Hegelian connotations of the term ‘dialectical’. The dialectical democrats do not idealise the existing system and often advocate reforms, but deny that direct democracy may be a realistic or desirable alternative.
The debate between the three schools is not just academic, but also political in every sense of the word. Whereas the elitist perspective and to a lesser extent the dialectical view might be used by established parties and political leaders to defend the status quo, many protest movements of different colours use (implicitly or explicitly) the classical perspective. Groups such as the Front National in France, the Partij voor de Vrijheid of Geert Wilders in the Netherlands, the Chavistas in Venezuela, the Zapatistas in Mexico, the Global Justice Movement, the Spanish indignados and the Occupy Wall Street movement may have divergent origins, goals and social backgrounds, but practically all of them demand ‘power to the people!’.
Purpose and content of the book
The main purpose of this book is to contribute to the debate about democracy by investigating the claims of the classical school. Does it offer an alternative (or a number of alternatives) to the prevailing system that is feasible, coherent and desirable? Feasibility will be determined by an...

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