Beyond Cold War Liberalism, but Where?

About Samuel Moyn’s Book “Liberalism Against Itself”

In a 2008 paper, the political scientist Jan-Werner Müller identified a distinct branch of 20^th-century liberalism, separate both from the classical (neo)liberalism of Hayek, Röpke, and Friedman and from the “progressive” liberalism of Dewey and (later) of Rawls.[1] So-called “Cold War liberalism” emerged after the Second World War at a time when intellectuals and populations, in general, were still traumatized by the atrocities committed by totalitarian regimes and as an uncertain and threatening conflict between the West and the East was gaining momentum. Focusing on three major intellectual figures of the time (Raymond Aron, Isaiah Berlin, and Karl Popper), Müller argued that they contributed to a distinct strand of liberal thought largely captured by the notion of “liberalism of fear” as later conceptualized by Judith Shklar.[2]

Manifesting a resolute prudence and skepticism toward ambitious ideological programs, Cold War liberals warned against the dangers of pursuing ideals while disregarding the costs that this entails, and of sacrificing freedom in the name of superior values. For Cold War liberals, the justification of liberal principles and institutions is foremost to be found in the fear that such grand projects should inspire, but also in the insight that fear itself is the cause of most political evils. In a nutshell, Cold War liberalism was a “negative” form of liberalism, arguing for the primacy of freedom, not because of its intrinsic value or contribution to progress, but as the best and only way to minimize the risk of human suffering and humiliation.

Cold War liberalism is also the subject of a recent book by the intellectual historian Samuel Moyn.[3] But while Müller’s paper is essentially an appraisal of this strand of liberalism, Moyn takes a far more critical stance on it.[4] Moyn’s main thesis is indeed that Cold War liberalism is a perversion of liberal ideas developed during the 19^th century that deflected liberal thought from the progressive and perfectionist features that were then at its core. By giving up on progressivism and perfectionism, Cold War liberalism also indirectly favored the rise to dominance of Hayekian and Friedmanian “neoliberalism” as well as the emergence of neoconservatism. Moyn argues that we are seeing since the 1990s a resurgence of Cold War liberalism, as witnessed by the influence of prominent public intellectuals like Anne Applebaum or Timothy Garton Ash, in the context of the rise of populism, Islamist terrorism, and the “wokism” from the left.   

According to Moyn, the distinctive feature of Cold War liberals (with the notable exception of Isaiah Berlin) is their twofold rejection of enlightenment and romanticism. The implications are significant. Compared to their liberal predecessors, Cold War liberals are more reluctant to consider that progress can be achieved by the use of reason, and they are more prone to emphasize the dangers involved by the hubris that results from overconfidence in it. They are dismissive of philosophy of history and all forms of historicism. They at the same time reject the idea that there is a path to progress that all societies can take but also that the ranking of values and appraisals of ways of life are specific to cultures, communities, or nations. They are skeptical with respect to any pronouncement about the highest forms of life and ideals that could justify restricting some persons’ (negative) freedom to achieve nobler aims. Though they do agree on every detail, what is uniting Cold War liberals is the general view that most of the apparent justifications for interfering with people’s freedom hide great dangers and contain the seeds for tyranny. Because of that, they essentially give up on any pretension to justify a political regime (including a liberal and democratic one) based on its ability to trigger progress and improve people’s lives.  

Moyn’s book is however not primarily a contribution in political theory or political philosophy. It is foremost a work in intellectual history. Besides the introduction and epilogue that develop most of the content I’ve just summarized, the book consists of a series of intellectual portraits of figures associated directly or indirectly with Cold War liberalism. Some of the choices regarding who is covered and how are at first sight disturbing. For instance, Raymond Aron – definitely a Cold War liberal – is not discussed while a chapter is dedicated to Hannah Arendt, clearly a major intellectual figure of the 20^th century but not necessarily a real contributor to this brand of liberalism. The chapter on Judith Shklar may surprise, as Moyn chooses to focus on her first book (based on her PhD thesis) where Shklar is critical of some liberals’ dismissive attitude toward enlightenment, but mostly ignores her subsequent writings where she progressively endorses the tenets of Cold War liberalism. The chapters on Popper and especially Berlin will appear as superficial to many, as they hardly bring new insights into the thoughts of these over-studied authors.

The portraits are nonetheless interesting overall are they also cover less-known figures (Gertrude Himmelfarb) and, put together, are conducive to a solid narrative. Moyn is especially good at pointing out the tensions and inconsistencies that emerge from the writing of Cold War liberals. For instance, Cold War liberals’ rejection of historicism and philosophy of history enters in tension with their underlying thesis the Enlightenment carried in itself the seeds of tyranny. The latter is indeed a philosophy of history in its own right, appealing to the deterministic and unavoidable implications of endorsing some set of ideas. With respect to Berlin, in an otherwise disappointing chapter, Moyn also highlights very well the tension between Berlin’s qualified endorsement of romanticism and the primacy he confers to negative liberty, arguing that ultimately Berlin relegates romantic ideas in the background.[5] Overall, the historical material is new and interesting enough to be worth the read.

What about the main thesis of the book? My main motivation for reading the book was that Moyn seemed to make a claim that I’ve started to try to articulate on my own. In this previous post, I was concluding as follows:

“The bottom line is that fear and skepticism, while still rationally relevant, have less emotional appeal to justify the principles and institutions of liberal democracy. More exactly, fear has changed side. Populists of all sorts routinely use fear as a weapon to attract voters. Fear has both cultural and economic origins. People are told by populists that they should fear that their traditions and values will disappear because of immigrants and globalization. They are told that new practices are conducive to criminality and dangers. They are told that inequalities are increasing, that they will become poorer than the poor, and that the economic system if not the whole society will collapse. In the face of all these claims and supposed one-size-fits-all remedies to address them, skepticism should obviously remain the appropriate stance. Aron’s call for epistemic humility and awareness of the limits of politics is more than ever relevant. But it explodes against the wall of the psychological reality. Asking for skepticism is asking too much from many, if not most, persons.

Is there a way out? The lessons of the past should not be forgotten and therefore liberal skepticism is still as relevant today as it was before. But you cannot ground the open society only on it. More than ever, you have also to argue and credibly show that a society that is economically and politically open is conducive to progress for everyone. It has to be shown that economic competition, cultural diversity, and political pluralism work to the benefit of all. The challenge is that this is not obvious in contemporary liberal democracies. More worryingly, that may not be true. Anyway, fear and skepticism are not enough to justify liberal principles. A conception of progress that is shared and endorsed by a large majority is also needed. If you want to convince people that they should disregard populists, you should not (only) remind them that populism can lead to authoritarianism, you should make the case that an open society is a society of actually positive-sum games. Or, in other words, rather than fear, counts on hope.”

Here is what Moyn is writing in his epilogue:[6]

“There is no reason to trivialize the genuine threats that provoke liberal anxieties. What Alexis de Tocqueville called “salutary fear” is essential in appraising and counteracting risks, which include not just despotism abroad, managed badly over decades, but an ecological crisis that is entirely self-imposed. Yet liberals did not appear to learn the actual lesson Cold War liberalism teaches – or that a global “war on terror” declared against shadowy and “totalitarian” enemies. Exaggerating risks leads to overreaction, even as other threats are minimized or missed, and longstanding problems festers that exacerbate the challenges prompting overreaction in the first place. Warning in perpetuity that the alternatives to liberalism are worse has proved no more than a rationalization for avoiding thinking about how to save liberalism – which is to say, how to make it credible enough for salvation.”

Irrespective of Moyn’s thesis that the intellectual roots of the current prevailing “defense” of liberalism are to be found in the history of its Cold War precursor, I concur with the diagnosis. The relative success of “illiberal” parties and programs in elections but also the results of multiple studies on the evolution of political attitudes definitely signal that the “negative” rhetoric of fear is no longer sufficient to convince people that they should not fall prey to the promises of extremists who explicitly reject the core principles of liberal democracy. One of the liberalism of fear’s key tenets that we should “fear a society of fearful people”[7] is still relevant, though. However, the roots of fear have changed. In the 1950s, the painful memories of the war and the progressive realization of the atrocities committed by totalitarian regimes could rightfully convince individuals that their freedom may be potentially threatened and must be preserved, even at a significant cost. Today, fear has economic and cultural origins. In a society where the living conditions of the many are no longer significantly improving, where climate risks are increasing, and where many persons believe (rightly or not) that their ways of life are threatened by cultural and social evolutions, fear is not directed toward the potential rise of an authoritarian regime. Quite the contrary, authoritarianism may be perceived as the last resort by many fearful persons.

While I agree with the diagnosis, I’m more skeptical of Moyn’s (underdeveloped) claim that we should return to a more progressive and perfectionist liberalism. Moyn never explains what he means by this, and, in fairness, this is not the main point of the book which is primarily a contribution to intellectual history.[8] There are good reasons for the growing importance taken by ideas of neutrality and restraint in the various strands of liberalism during the 20^th century, not only in Cold War liberalism. As societies grow more diverse, finding a consensus a perfectionist values and a conception of progress becomes a daunting task. Moyn is right that we should not “exaggerate risks.” But we should not minimize the difficulties of establishing a “comprehensive” (to use a Rawlsian expression) agreement on a conception of the good life either. “Progressive” and “perfectionist” liberalism has its own problems, and while it is fair to emphasize the tensions in, say, Berlin’s thought, we could easily do the same (and it has been done multiple times) for a progressist liberal like John Stuart Mill. The problem with progressivism and perfectionism is that they can quickly become inimical to multiple forms of life. It is far from clear – and indeed doubtful – that such liberalism could lessen the fear of many members of Western liberal democracies.

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[1] Jan-Werner Müller, “Fear and Freedom: On `Cold War Liberalism’,” European Journal of Political Theory 7, no. 1 (January 1, 2008): 45–64.

[2] Judith Shklar `The Liberalism of Fear', in Nancy L. Rosenblum (ed.) Liberalism and the Moral Life (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989).

[3] Samuel Moyn, Liberalism against Itself: Cold War Intellectuals and the Making of Our Times (Yale University Press, 2023).

[4] Though not about Cold War liberalism strictly speaking, Joshua L. Cherniss, Liberalism in Dark Times: The Liberal Ethos in the Twentieth Century (Princeton University Press, 2021) also develops themes that are largely related to it.

[5] In fairness, a similar point was already made in more detail and more convincingly by John Gray, Isaiah Berlin: An Interpretation of His Thought, Isaiah Berlin (Princeton University Press, 1996 [2020]).

[6] Moyn, Liberalism against Itself, pp. 174-175.

[7] Shklar, “The Liberalism of Fear”, p. 29.

[8] The only hint given by Moyn is a reference (in a footnote) to Joseph Raz, The Morality of Freedom (Clarendon Press, 1986).