I very much hope that you have all read William Polk's
important essay on the events in Iraq, posted here yesterday. Today, I am going to make a series of observations
intended to complement, but in no way to displace or amend, his arguments. What I have to say has application to many
other issues of national and foreign policy, but it is, I think, particularly
apposite to the Middle East situation.
I inaugurate my remarks with several quotations from the
writings of the great twentieth century conservative English philosopher,
Michael Oakeshott. Some of you find it
odd, I know, that I should have a fondness for a thinker who is one of the darlings
of the apparatchiks at right-wing think tanks, but I would remind you that
Oakeshott's excoriation of the intellectual tradition that he labels
"rationalist" is matched by Marx's disdain for the Utopian Socialists
who were among the most notable partisans of the rationalist mentality. By the time I have finished, you will perhaps
understand what I think we have to learn from Oakeshott.
Let me begin with a portion of a single sentence from
"Rationalism in Politics," the title essay of Oakeshott's most
important book.
"The conduct of affairs, for the Rationalist, is a matter
of solving problems..."
Against this conception of politics, Oakeshott counterpoises
his own view of politics as the participation in a tradition of activity. He says of the rationalist several paragraphs
later, "He is not devoid of humility;
he can imagine a problem which would remain impervious to the onslaught
of his own reason. But what he cannot
imagine is politics which do not consist in the solving of problems, or of a
political problem of which there is no 'rational' solution at all."
What can Oakeshott mean by this, and how can it help us to
understand the situation in Iraq? The
key lies in the unthinking invocation of what I can label inappropriate
metaphors. We are accustomed to describe
the conflict between the Shi'ia and Sunni in Iraq as a "problem," to
which competing solutions are now being offered. But the use of the word "problem"
and its associated terms, such as "solution," implies that it is
possible to give a correct characterization of the current situation, an
unambiguous description of a different situation we wish to see come into
being, and a repertory of tools and techniques that we might employ to accomplish
that end. And this way of thinking, I
suggest, is wrong.
What are some legitimate examples of problems? Finding a vaccine
to protect humans against polio was a problem, solved initially by Jonas
Salk. Constructing a workable atomic
bomb was a problem, solved by the team of scientists and engineers who made up
the Manhattan project in the last years of World War Two. Putting a man on the moon was a problem, set
for America by John F. Kennedy and solved by the scientists and engineers of
the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.
What is an example of a pseudo-problem -- a task or policy
goal or desideratum that sound like a problem but in fact is not a problem at
all? Nation-building
is an example of a pseudo-problem.
Nations are never built, constructed, or erected. Nations are sets of political and
institutional arrangements rooted in and evolving out of the history and
traditions and past actions and experiences of groups of people. Trying and failing to build a nation is never a case of a lack of resources or a failure
of will or a shortage of experts.
Nation-building always fails because "building a nation" is a
phrase that has no coherent meaning.
Consequently, there is no genuine meaning that can be give to the
question "How can we contribute to the building of a stable democratic
Iraq?"
An associated example of a pseudo-problem is "training
indigenous forces." The United States
has devoted an enormous amount of time, effort, and resources to training the
Iraqi military, only to have the troops we have trained throw down their
weapons, shed their uniforms, and flee into the night when confronted by
attacking ISIS troops [who are not terrorists, by the way, but that is neither
here nor there.] The natural reaction to
this turn of events is to conclude that we have not trained them well enough,
but that is a total conceptual confusion.
The ISIS forces, after all, have not been the beneficiaries of our training,
or, so far as I can make out, of the training of anyone else. Clearly, the failure of the Iraqi forces has
nothing to do with the success or failure of their training. I am sure they know how to operate their
weapons just as efficiently as do the ISIS forces [which seem to be using some
of the same weapons, originally supplied by the American military.] Incidentally, since the establishment of the
United States was made possible by the defeat of a well-organized national army
by a collection of citizen-combatants manifestly less well trained than their
enemies, you might have thought American politicians and military experts might
have understood this.
Am I saying that the United States cannot in any way
influence affairs in the Middle East? Of
course not. We have been influencing
affairs in the Middle East for at least sixty or seventy years, and perhaps
longer. We influenced affairs in the
Middle East by forging close and supportive ties with the regimes controlling
large reserves of oil. We influenced
affairs in the Middle East by overthrowing a secular democratic government in
Iran and installing a puppet Shah. We
influenced affairs in the Middle East by arming the Taliban during their
successful struggle against Soviet invaders.
We have influenced affairs in the Middle East by aiding and enabling Israel's
occupation and domination of the Palestinians.
We influenced affairs in the Middle East by first making chemical weapons
available to Saddam Hussein during his war against Iran and then by invading
Iraq and overthrowing Hussein. We have
had an enormous influence on events in the Middle East. What we have never been able to do is
"solve" whatever "problem" we think at the moment the
Middle East poses. Our failure is never
a consequence of inadequate information or weakness of will or insufficient
resources. It is always a consequence of
the fact that neither the Middle East nor any other region of the world poses
"problems" to which there are "solutions."
Well, sufficient unto the day, as my uncle used to say.
4 comments:
Oakeshott's general point here is also made by R. G. Collingwood, who spends considerable time developing it as a methodological principle concerning history and philosophy as much as politics. It's always good to hear that Collingwood, who is so often forgotten, has hit the nail on the head yet again, and finds allies in English conservatives and U.S. communists both. His time will come.
I have to confess I don't find this in THE IDEA OF HISTORY. Elsewhere?
I don't have anything to hand at the moment (and won't for a week or so), but if memory serves, it's passim in An Autobiography, An Essay on Metaphysics and, possibly, The New Leviathan. But it's not dealt with at any great length in any of these texts. Mink's superb commentary Mind, History and Dialectic brings together the various remarks Collingwood makes and systematises them. It goes under the name of 'the logic of question and answer' or variations on this.
That Iraq is not a 'problem to be solved' is hardly a refutation of rationalism. Only a refutation of the patently absurd notion that people in Washington DC have the power to select an outcome.
I can see why rationalism might be attacked by drawing parallels with 'scientism' -- understood as a naive attempt to use inadequate theoretical means to address questions that require better, deeper insight than happen to be available to science at present. But the way to fix weaknesses in rationalism is not to abandon rationalism, but simply to acknowledge that there is more work to do.
The DC war hawks who brought us the Iraq war were not wrong because they were too rationalist. They were wrong because they used bad reasoning from false premises to reach pre-conceived conclusions.
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