Let us talk about moral language. Let us talk about
idealism, its dangers and its promise. I fully understand liberals’ (now more
acute) fear of unabashed idealism in matters of diplomacy and foreign affairs.
This is certainly reflected in our readers’ comments.
Idealism, whether it be of a secular or slightly
religious/messianic nature, has played a vital role in American political
history. It is the lifeblood of so many of our country’s achievements. Our
greatest presidents have been idealists (FDR, John F. Kennedy, Ronald Reagan),
but so too have our worst (George W. Bush, Jimmy Carter).
I remember when I first heard the quotation: “Some men see
things as they are and say why; I dream things that never were and say why not.”
If there was one quote I hoped would define my approach to politics, it was perhaps
this. But there remains a lurking, potent danger. Sincerity and idealism can just as easily lead to personal and political destruction. It is all the
more tragic because idealism raises expectations so high, only to shatter them.
The higher the highs, the lower the lows, and the more acute the sense that we
have been betrayed our own ideals, resulting in, first, anger, then dissillusion.
As the last few years have demonstrated, idealism, if unchecked, can lead to the most blatant abuses
of power. Why is this? Because idealism gives one a sense that there is one
right and one wrong, that the world can be ordered by moral absolutes, that, at
some point, one must take a side and stand by it, no matter what the cost. If one is destroyed by this stubborn resolve, then this is
what some call "courage."
I want to quickly mention a few examples of this phenomenon. For all his faults, Christopher Hitchens has been a major influence on me.
A lot of people seem to think that “we” lost Hitchens to the neo-cons, but I
can think of few people who are as defiantly Left as him (which I suppose says
just as much about neo-conservatism as it does about the Left). The original
Leftist – or, let us say, liberal – impulse has always been something particularly
noble, an unwillingness to accept things as they are, and a willingness to
right wrongs, more often than not through some kind of “intervention,” whether
it be state intervention in the economy or humanitarian intervention to prevent
genocide.
The problem, however, is that Hitchens is not only ideological but,
in a way, consumed by his own abiding sense of moral clarity. He is an atheist
but his brand of morality often, paradoxically, takes on a
pseudo-religious tone. Unlike, say, Andrew Sullivan (another major
influence), Hitchens does not engage in what one may call the politics of doubt and skepticism. A leftist friend of mine at Georgetown, who regularly accused me of
selling out to the “forces of imperialism” or some other such nonsense, would
sign his emails off with “there can be no compromise with reactionary forces.”
I suspect on this point he and Hitchens would not differ.