Liberalism wagers that a state . . . can be strong but constrained – strong because constrained. Rights to education and other requirements for human development and security aim to advance equal opportunity and personal dignity and to promote a creative and productive society. To guarantee those rights, liberals have supported a wider social and economic role for the state, counterbalanced by more robust guarantees of civil liberties and a wider social system of checks and balances anchored in an independent press and pluralistic society. – Paul Starr, The New Republic, March 5, 2007.
The New Republic is 100 years old this month. For a bi-weekly
journal of opinion and the arts with an intellectual flare and a small
subscription base, this is quite an accomplishment. Founded in 1914 by Walter Lippmann
and Herbert Croly and inspired by the reform impulses of Theodore Roosevelt then
vibrating through American society, for the past century The New Republic has
engaged in a vibrant debate over the essence of a good society and what makes
life worth living. Although distinctly liberal in origin, it has in its
philosophical leanings evolved, shifted, varied and, at times, contradicted
itself in a manner to be expected of a journal that takes ideas and democracy
seriously.
I first discovered The New Republic in the summer of 1981
when I was 22 years old. Only a month earlier I had graduated from Wittenberg
University and been baptized into the “real world” of full-time employment,
living in Houston and working as a financial accountant for a Texas-based
oilfield services company. The job was dull and uninspiring, but one afternoon I
wandered into the lobby of the 29th floor and noticed on a glass coffee table a
magazine that looked unlike any other I had previously seen. The cover story immediately
caught my attention. It concerned the rise of the New Right and the perils of
Christian fundamentalism, matters of particular relevance to life in Texas and
which explained, in part, America’s rightward tilt during the Reagan years. As I
began reading, I was impressed immediately by the journal’s clear and eloquent
prose, its understanding of history, and its pragmatic liberalism. It was
beautifully written and filled with high-quality essays and articles on
politics, society, religion, literature, and the arts. It was refreshingly
liberal, but not ideological, and I soon learned that its editors despised
dogmatism and were as critical of the far left as of the far right.
Each week that summer I searched out a new issue and read it
cover to cover. I devoured every editorial, every article, every word. The writing
was intelligent and accessible, offering commentary on everything from the
continued relevance of John Maynard Keynes to the origins of the Enlightenment.
It was lively and stimulating and introduced me to issues of which I had
previously paid little attention – Israel and Zionism, the plight of Soviet
Jewry, the historic struggle against South African apartheid. It explained and
placed in context the internal debates within the Democratic Party over foreign
policy and America’s proper role in the world, and the ideological divides
within the Republican Party. The editors and contributors wrote sensibly on
civil rights, civil liberties, education and the environment. And in the “back
of the book” as it was called, one found intellectually engaging book reviews
and essays on art, film, music, history and literature. I was hooked.
By the time I started law school at George Washington
University in the fall of 1982, I was a loyal reader and subscriber. One day, hidden
away in a quiet cubicle on the third floor of the Gelman Library, I wandered
into the periodical section and discovered bound volumes of every past issue of
The New Republic. Here I escaped into slices of history. I read essays by
Walter Lippmann, Edmund Wilson, Reinhold Niebuhr, Alfred Kazin,
and James MacGregor Burns; editorials that addressed what were then
contemporary issues of urgency – the two world wars, the Great Depression, the
rise of fascism in Europe, the later struggle for civil rights at home and,
eventually, the Vietnam War and the sexual revolution. I would return to this
cubicle and venture into the periodicals time and again over the next three
years, taking needed breaks from my legal studies.
For much of the past 33 years, I have continued to read and subscribe
to this journal. It has inspired, educated and infuriated me – sometimes all at
once. But it has always made me think. For more left-leaning liberals, The New
Republic is a difficult partner, for it deviates too far and too often from
what some might consider traditional liberal orthodoxy. On foreign affairs,
military policy, and America’s response to perceived Soviet aggression (in the
1980’s) or Islamic extremism and international terrorism (since 9/11), the
magazine’s editorial and published voices have sometimes drifted towards the
neo-conservative camp. I have on occasion disagreed with the editorial
proclamations of the magazine on these issues and have at times been perplexed
by its choice of authors, but intellectual diversity and the free exchange of
ideas is the very essence of liberal debate, a concept sometimes lost nowadays in
elite intellectual circles on the left and the right (college campuses
included).
Since its founding a century ago, The New Republic has been
at the forefront of helping to define, mold, and influence American liberalism.
As Editor Franklin Foer explained to The New York Times in 2011, The New
Republic “invented the modern usage of the term ‘liberal.’ And it’s one of our
historical legacies and obligations to be involved in the ongoing debate over
what exactly liberalism means and stands for.” For me, it has been an essential
resource in formulating and refining my own philosophical and political
leanings.
As Princeton University professor Paul Starr, a contributor to The New Republic
and the co-founder of The American Prospect has noted, liberalism is notoriously
difficult to define, for it is not an ideology so much as a practical assessment
of how to build a free, fair, and prosperous society. The liberalism espoused
by The New Republic in the early 20th century was based partly on the belief
that, as the country evolved from an agrarian based economy to one dominated by
the modern corporation, and as American life became increasingly complex and
dependent on the technological and industrial revolutions of the modern era,
less relevant became Jeffersonian notions of libertarianism and individualism. The
reforms and protections needed required a more Hamiltonian vision of American government,
stronger and more centralized to properly and effectively address the many
areas of neglect and exploitation that had resulted from unfettered capitalism
and rising inequality.
At the turn of the 20th century, when Teddy Roosevelt was
President, the United States enacted a series of progressive reforms intended
to counter the excesses of the industrial age. Laws were enacted that
restricted the use of child labor and exploitative working conditions, improved
workplace safety, opposed monopolistic and unfair trade practices, and
protected and preserved millions of acres of national parks and forests. Twenty-five
years later, during the Great Depression, Franklin Roosevelt helped bring about
much needed reforms to the banking and securities industries, created jobs
through public works programs, and established social security insurance. The
building of roads, bridges, tunnels, and, in the 1950’s, the interstate highway
system, mobilized the nation’s commerce and connected every region and segment
of the country. The War on Poverty and the civil rights laws in the 1960’s
ended Jim Crow, created medical insurance for children and the poor, provided
public housing and expanded the reach of education. Laws governing clean air, clean water, and
food safety; laws against discrimination in the workplace; expansion of health
care insurance, safe air traffic control – these are just a few practical examples of
how liberal reforms have made American life safer, fairer, and more secure.
Liberals believe that government can be used for good, to
harness expert knowledge to solve problems in a way that will allow American prosperity
to spread and grow fairly and equitably. During the 1960 presidential campaign,
John F. Kennedy said in a speech before the New York Liberal Party that, if by
the term “liberal” one means “someone who cares about the welfare of the people
– their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights,
their civil liberties . . . then I’m proud to say I’m a liberal.” To Kennedy, a
liberal was also one who believes “in human dignity as the source of national
purpose, in human liberty as the source of national action, in the human heart
as the source of national compassion, and in the human mind as the source of
our invention and our ideas. . . . For liberalism is not so much a party creed
or set of fixed platform promises as it is an attitude of mind and heart, a
faith in man’s ability through the experiences of his reason and judgment to
increase for himself and his fellow men the amount of justice and freedom and
brotherhood which all human life deserves.”
Kennedy understood that, while “the fight to eliminate
poverty and human exploitation is a fight that goes on in our day,” liberals accept
the fundamental tenets of the free enterprise system and a certain degree of
inequality. They understand that government is a human endeavor, and thus
imperfect. It does not always get things right, or properly balance competing
interests. Kennedy, as a practical liberal, remained open to further reforms
and modifications and sought to allocate resources to the areas of greatest
need. He was a liberal in the way I am a liberal and The New Republic is a
“liberal” magazine. Liberals wish to address imperfections and injustices, but we
are reformers, not revolutionaries. We do not endorse the concept of the superstate.
“I abhor the waste and incompetence of large-scale federal bureaucracies,” said
Kennedy in a 1960 speech cited favorably by The New Republic. “I do not favor
state compulsion when voluntary individual effort can do the job and do it
well. But I believe in a government which acts, which exercises its full powers
and responsibilities. Government is an art and a precious obligation; and when
it has a job to do, I believe it should do it.”
Authentic liberalism – not socialism, not left-wing
radicalism – but the liberalism as generally articulated in The New Republic
has developed with an understanding of how policies work in light of political,
social, and economic realities. Experience shows that some government programs
are more effective than others at achieving intended goals. The debate over the
direction of modern liberalism must therefore be premised on how public policy
works in practice not theory. As Paul Starr wrote in an April 2007 issue of The
American Prospect:
Modern liberalism has never been ruled by a theory in the way that free-market conservatism and Marxian socialism have been. A pragmatic emphasis on experience and evidence – on how things work in practice – has been critical in making liberalism work. . . . Liberalism regards the well-being of the least well-off as a central criterion for a just society, and it seeks to provide individuals with some degree of protection against risks beyond their control; but it accepts inequalities insofar as they are to everyone’s long-run advantage, and therefore aims for sustainable growth with widely shared gains.
The struggle to define liberalism will continue to be fought
on the pages of The New Republic for years to come. The arguments will undoubtedly
shift from left to center and back, and labels such as “liberal” and
“conservative” will not always apply. But it is an important debate because
modern liberalism has brought about more forward progress in American society
than any other political movement. And as we advance into the 21st century, the
debate is one that will influence how we choose to allocate limited resources
for the benefit of all of our citizens; remain true to our immigrant history as
a light among the nations and still protect our national security and economic interests;
address the stark environmental threats posed by climate change; remain united
among an increasingly divided electorate; decide when to exert American
military force; and define our proper role in the world.
There are no easy answers to these issues and no simple
solutions. But I will remain engaged in the debate for as long as I am able to
learn, think, listen, and question. And I have The New Republic to thank for helping
me stay informed and engaged with the world for most of my adult life.
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