No man is an island, except for George Will.
When I was but a young collegiate firebrand making waves on campus in
the distant days of two-thousand-eighteen, my academic advisor—a
kind-hearted boomer liberal in the history department—found himself
worried about my situation. I was too smart, he insisted, to write the
way I did. (On the contrary, I promise I am exactly dumb enough to write
like this.) “You can either be some shock jock,” the professor warned
in a fatherly tone, “or you can be George Will.”
Well, I thought to myself silently, I sure as hell don’t want to be George Will.
A year or so later, in a less paternal moment, he accused me publicly
of the thoughtcrime of “rank individualism.” I was a bit confused,
given that the comment (and my less-than-voluntary resignation from the
university’s newspaper) had been provoked by a broadside against the expressive individualism of the school’s gay-activist community.
Both
moments came to mind this week as I read an unusual column by the very
pundit whose name my advisor once invoked. Having revisited an essay by
one of the liberal right’s chief philosophers, Michael Oakeshott, Dr.
Will thinks he has stumbled on the key “to the United States’ distemper
in 2021.”
From right and left, Will says, individualism is under
attack. On the left, “critical race theory subsumes individualism,
dissolving it in a group membership—racial solidarity, which supposedly
has been forged in the furnace of racist oppression.” At the same time,
“U.S. ‘national conservatives,’ who are collectivists on the right,
recoil against modernity in the name of communitarian values, strongly
tinged with a nativist nationalism and with a trace of the European
blood-and-soil right.”
I am not a national conservative, for reasons I have previously explained.
Yet Will seems to have sloppily assumed that the label applies to
anyone on the right who is not a liberal, so I will take the liberty of
counting myself among those criticized.
Both groups, the
post-liberal right and the progressive left, are what Will calls
“modernity’s enemies.” Will writes that “modernity’s greatest
achievement, which was the prerequisite for its subsequent achievements,
was the invention of the individual.” Before the advent of modernity,
Persons
knew themselves only as members of a family, a group, a church, a
village or as the occupant of a tenancy: “What differentiated one man
from another was insignificant when compared with what was enjoyed in
common as members of a group of some sort.”
This began to change in Italy with “the break-up of medieval communal life.” As the historian Jacob Burckhardt would write,
“Italy began to swarm with individuality; the ban laid upon human
personality was dissolved.” Individuals detached themselves from
derivative group identities, becoming eligible for individual rights
grounded in the foundational right to an existence independent of any
group membership.
This is a ludicrous overstatement, inspired by a cursory reading of Burckhardt’s The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy. Burckhardt, an art historian writing in the middle of the nineteenth century, suggested that:
In
the Middle Ages both sides of human consciousness—that which was turned
within as that which was turned without—lay dreaming or half awake
beneath a common veil. The veil was woven of faith, illusion, and
childish prepossession, through which the world and history were seen
clad in strange hues. Man was conscious of himself only as a member of a
race, people, party, family, or corporation—only through some general
category.
This is not only untrue but fundamentally
unbelievable. The son of a Protestant minister, Burckhardt sits squarely
in the tradition of Reformation historiography, which relies by nature
on a cartoonish reduction of the Middle Ages to “faith, illusion, and
childish prepossession.” No one can be expected to believe that medieval
man was actually unable to think of himself as a distinct human person.
The truth behind the lie is that medieval man did not think of himself first as an individual.
This
is because he was not a moron. He knew, as a matter of fact, that he
belonged to things bigger than himself, that his identity could not
possibly be established without reference to the external world. Will’s
“foundational right to an existence independent of any group membership”
is an absurdity, especially so in a species whose every individual
necessarily belongs to at least one definite group on being brought into
existence. As far as I know, George Will was not created in a lab.
More
than inevitable, though, the fact of identity’s dependence on
interpersonal relationships is eminently desirable. It is a very strange
kind of conservative who celebrates “the break-up of…communal life”
(medieval or otherwise) as one of the great developments of human
history. Beyond strange, it is impossible: The conservative’s interests
necessarily transcend the individual, not least of all because
tradition, the act of handing something down, hinges on connections
between people. Individualist conservatism is a contradiction in terms: For whom could something not held in common possibly be conserved?
The
achievement and preservation of the common good is intergenerational,
“a partnership not only between those who are living, but between those
who are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born,” in
Edmund Burke’s famous words. The world of Will’s imagination must be one
in which nobody is ever born and nobody ever dies.
The
conservative, meanwhile, lives in the real world. He not only sees that
all people enter the world with bonds—to family and tradition, to place
and neighbor—but celebrates that fact; he seeks to strengthen those
bonds and the joy secured by them. Mindful of the ravages of time, he
pursues that security not just for a moment but well beyond his
lifetime, taking hold of something handed down and ensuring its
preservation after he has gone. He knows that the atomic man is a
vicious fiction, a deception whose success would loose every bond and
wipe out every attendant joy. And so, as his critics worry, he
“recoil[s] against modernity in the name of communitarian values.”
Will
ends his individualist manifesto with an aphorism from Paul Valery, a
gifted French poet with an astonishingly dull mind: “Everything changes
except the avant-garde.” It is perhaps not the coup the column’s author
thinks to admit his opponents are the only ones who have stood fast
through the ages.
https://www.theamericanconservative.com/articles/individualism-is-the-enemy/