The life of a philosopher is beset by many dangers. Indeed many who embark on the path of philosophy, fall away for one reason or another. For my own part, I am grateful that I have never tired of philosophy; indeed, I have never lost my love for learning. I count this a great blessing. In saying, this I do not pretend to never weary of this or that question or problem; nor am I unaware of the shortcomings of academia. At the same time, I heartily endorse and approve both philosophy as a way of life and philosophy as an academic discipline — both the love of learning for its own sake, and the learning that takes place in institutions of higher learning. There are few better ways to spend a life than wrapped up with learning.

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The political common good consist primarily in the just handling of temporal goods. Concretely, this consists in the practice of the virtues concerned with justice, namely, justice as a general virtue, distributive justice, and commutative justice. General justice brings about laws that advance the common good and requires obedience by the parts; distributive justice distributes the goods and services of the whole to the parts according to merit and need; finally, commutative justice directs the parts of the community to engage in mutually beneficial exchanges and interactions. Taken together, these virtues form the core of the just cooperative state (I have written about this in detail elsewhere).

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However, there is more to the common good than justice. To be sure, a shared life of justice is a great and praiseworthy aspiration for any community. However, there is more to the common good than justice. In addition to justice, the well-ordered state includes civic friendship.

Moving Beyond Justice

Justice renders what is due to another. It gives no less, but it gives no more than what is strictly proportionate and required. This is fine if we think of justice as the foundation of a house or the essential ligaments of complex structure, but it is surely not enough in terms of human and social relations. Such an approach would meet the baseline of human needs, but it would lack magnanimity, strength, and élan.

Imagine a military unit or sports team where the members only gave to each the due; such a group would lack spirit, the willingness to endure difficulty, and any sense of group pride. Such a group would be highly ineffective and often fall short of victory. The members of effective organizations go beyond the just due in their loyalty to the whole; and this is no less true for the political community.

In addition to justice, the well-ordered political community needs civic friendship between citizens. This is so obviously important and so obviously missing from a great deal of our politics. Civic friendship adds fraternity, fellow feeling, unity, and patriotism to the nation. It creates ties of loyalty and social cohesion. A political community imbued with civic friendship is resilient and avoids the sort of extreme divisiveness that leads to fragmentation, strife, and civil discord. Indeed, the blessings of civic friendship are diverse and manifold.

Civic Friendship

In general, the love of friendship involves a mutual loving, concerned with the same good. Love is the act of intending and choosing the good for a person; in this form, love is an act of the will rather than a passion of the appetites; and it is voluntary. Examples include educating yourself or another; feeding yourself or another in a fine or healthy way; delighting another with a funny but innocent story, and so on. Love of this sort can take many forms; indeed, it is the true root of human flourishing. When this sort of activity becomes mutual about the same good, the relationship of friendship occurs. For example, husband and wife love one another by intending and choosing the goods of chastity, intimacy, and procreation for each other. Virtuous friends strive together for growth in the cardinal virtues. Intellectual colleagues support one another in truth, wisdom, and knowledge. In all of these cases, mutuality and the sharing of goods distinguishes friendship from mere loving.

Civic friendship is a kind of friendship that obtains between the citizens of a political community. Under the virtue of justice, the parts of the community obey laws for the common good, receive just distributions, and engage in mutually beneficial exchanges. These operations are good to be sure, but they represent the just minimum. In civic friendship, citizens intend and choose for one another the common good, namely, the virtuous use of basic goods and service. And this turns out to be a certain form of happiness — acquired active happiness. In this way, civic happiness comes to look somewhat like charity. Charity disposes us to intend and choose eternal beatitude for others, whereas civic friendship does the same for the common good at the natural level.

It should be evident that civic friendship is an indispensable aid for advancing the common good. Those inspired by civic friendship go beyond the minimum required by justice; they positively contribute more to the achievement of the common good for the sake of others. Such friendships among citizens redound to the benefits of all. The civic friend is truly invested in the flourishing of all. And for this reason, he gives charitably to fellow citizens in need; he labors generously with his coworkers; he sacrifices to advance justice; and volunteers to face the dangers of war. Moreover, civic friendship tends to avoid excessive partisanship, demonization, and faction. Friends can disagree and remain connected by fraternal bonds and loyalty. For all of these reasons, civic friendship supports, strengthens, and protects the common good. It adds love to justice, and inspires greatness and magnanimity.

A Deeper Loyalty

Civic friendship is clearly desirable for any political community. The real question is its origin and restoration. For most western societies, civic friendship is on the decline. But where does civic friendship originate and how could we get it back once lost. In the classical view (Aristotelian-Thomist), civic friendship grows from the foundational bonds of social unity. These ties consist in some sense of common identity that may include elements like a shared history, language, culture, religion, or something similar. Of course, it would not be necessary for a people to share all of these elements or aspire towards a monochromatic uniformity[1]. Classical theory leaves room for a moderate diversity, and yet wisely insists that genuine social unity cannot be reduced to mere procedural legalism. Why is this so?

Pre-political unity is required because the parts of the community must agree, at least in broad terms, on the nature of the common good, basic goods and services, and virtue.[2] Of course, effective political community does not require uniform assent to abstract doctrine or precise definitions. Such things are helpful, but not strictly necessary. Nevertheless, in order to aim effectively for the common good, citizens need to agree on core principles and basic political terminology. The linguistic point is more important than some may think.

Aristotle famously taught that the city is established by the way we speak about justice. The language we use about justice and similar terms, both reveals our passions and commitments, but also inspires action. One of the jobs of the statesman is to craft language that will bring the citizens together around a shared vision of the common good. (And this is one reason why abusive, vulgar, and lowbrow language should rarely be used in reference to our fellow citizens).

In sum, effective politics request the flourishing of civic friendship for many reasons. It imbues the community with firmness, magnanimity, the spirit of sacrifice, and so on. For this reason it is necessary to cultivate and preserve the ties of loyalty that support the growth of civic reason. It follows, that the government oppose the innovations and revolutionary changes that would undermine the roots of social cohesion. Otherwise, the entire edifice of the common good will be corrupted. Semper idem.

Restore or Decline

America and similar countries have already hollowed out many of the ties of loyalty. Left wing political activists recognize that social connection is important but they try to replace organic realities with cold, lifeless programs that fall far short of the mark. Libertarians, deceived about the nature of man, miss the point entirely. In this situation, America, the United Kingdom, the Republic of Ireland, and other nations are on the brink losing the ties of loyalty and civic friendship all together. If this process is not forcefully brought to a halt, the common good will become unattainable in these countries.

For the political authority to defend deep loyalty several things are necessary. First, it must be understood that direct political action does not create deep loyalty ex nihilo. In this domain, law needs antecedent materials; this is so because the elements of deep loyalty are largely accidents of history (or gifts of providence).[3] It follows that the government must strenuously conserve any surviving elements of loyalty. For example, legislation protecting the national language would be a measure apt to this purpose. Second, the government should develop policies for increasing and cultivating what remains. To this end, the state should create unifying approaches to culture, language, immigration, education, the arts, and similar things.

Regardless of the outcome, the choice before Western nations is clear: either restoration and renewal on the one hand, or dissolution and chaos on the other. These are the only options.

[1] Aristotle referred to these matters in terms of ethos and ethnos.

[2] The political common good is the cooperative use of basic goods and services according to virtue.

[3] This was the great insight of Joseph De Maistrae.

This essay is being written during a ceasefire period of the American-Israeli war against Iran (or the Third Gulf war). Some of it may be obsolete by the time of publication. This is not a systematic essay but a collection of thoughts inspired by war and current events.

1. This Present Darkness

First, the present war on the Islamic Republic of Iran is immoral, unjust, and probably illegal. I take this to be the prima facie position from the perspective of traditional just war theory. According to this doctrine, war is morally permissible but only under certain conditions. Thomas Aquinas states the following conditions: (1) legitimate authority, (2) just cause, and (3) right intention. Other authors add additional conditions, but I think the Thomist account is sufficient.

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In the Thomist approach to war, the most important factor is the just cause or casus belli. War is only just as a proportionate response to some real or imminent injustice. The preeminent example of a just cause is national defense against an unjust aggressor. In addition, in some cases war may be used as a form of punishment or humanitarian intervention. And a just belligerent need not wait for the unjust side to land the first blow. Rather, it is just to attack an unjust belligerent preemptively, when an unjust action is imminent. However, one must not confuse preemption with “preventive war” — and this is the crux of the matter regarding the current military escapade.

One cannot initiate war because of what another country (even a rival country) may do in the future. And for this very reason we may not attack Iran for what it may do with long range conventional missiles or nuclear missiles. Even if Iran acquired nuclear weapons, this in itself would not justify war. Iran did not initiate an unjust attack on the United States (or Israel) nor was there a imminent attack. Nor was there any other relevant casus belli; this was not launched as a form of just retribution. It follows that Donald Trump’s war against the Islamic Republic is unjust and immoral. And the result is this: thousands of innocent humans dead, including women and children. For all Americans, this must be a matter of deep regret, reflection, and repentance for the nation.

2. The Middle East and the American Conscience

It may strike the reader that the criteria for just war is too restrictive. One may think that the state should surely have wider latitude in security matters. I respond that this impression is largely due to the defective conscience of some Americans in these matters, that is, war and the Middle East more broadly.

Americans have become very used to a sanitized form of war. Because of our technological advantage over most opponents, we are able to devastate enemies at a distance and we tend to experience low casualties. Of course, those who are impacted by our advanced weaponry, including women and children, still feel and experience the brutality of war. We do not share in this experience, and for this reason, the American conscience is too insensitive to the moral gravity of war and its attendant natural evils. This is especially evinced by the casual indifference of the current Presidential administration to traditional rules of engagement and civilian casualties. This problem is aggravated, I suspect, by ignorance of Arab and Persian cultures, an excessive animus against Islam, and especially the presence of Christian Zionism in America.

Although most Americans are coming around to a negative view of Israel’s many crimes against the Palestinians and their Middle-Eastern neighbors, a religiously motivated faction remains stubbornly loyal to the state of Israel. This faction is inspired by the heresy of dispensationalism; among other things this doctrine claims that the current state of Israel is the inheritor of the land promises originally made to the Jewish people in the Hebrew Scriptures. Those influenced by this perspective tend to be completely hostile or indifferent to those perceived to be the enemies of Israel.

3. A simple question —

By what legal or moral right does one country preemptively dictate to another nation, within its own homeland, whether it is permitted enrich uranium?

Because of what it might do in the future?

‘Because they are all madmen and mullah’s?’ Do you hear yourself? Do you really know anything about Iran? Persia? Shia Islam?

I will remind the reader that only one nation on earth has used atomic weapons on other human beings and it was not Iran. It was not a nation predominately populated by Persians. It was not an Islamic nation.

4. A Disturbing Pattern

Even when a war is ostensibly just it is requisite that force is applied rightly. Of course war is violent and inevitably legitimate actions will sometimes result in some unintended civilian casualties. This is tragic but true.

Under the principle of double effect, an unintended bad consequence my be permitted if the underlying action is good and the evil effect is not disproportionate to the good achieved. In this perspective collateral damage is permissible. At the same time, it must be restrained and limited by the right intention and proportionality. Too often, this seems to be ignored in the case of Israel’s actions in both Gaza and Lebanon. A constrained action that tragically results in a low number of civilian deaths may be permissible. But the “flattening” of Gaza or destroying entire civilian neighborhoods in Beirut with multi-ton munitions cannot be justified on these grounds. Even if such excessive attacks are not strictly intended to kill civilians, indifference to disproportionate non-combatant harm is inexcusable.

Some may object, “war is hell.” War is no place for these kind of moral niceties. Indeed, an important American official has even publicly rejoiced in jettisoning “politically correct” rules of engagement.

I respond: yes war is awful and that is exactly why we place it within the setting of justice, law, legitimate authority, the law of nations, and so on. It is exactly the effort to bring war under the keen of reason and morality that separates good and evil, just and unjust.

5. The Mirage of Global Civilization

Of course, events are not isolated; we all live among the waves of history. I had thought that neo-conservative delusions about creating a global civilization patterned on America had been laid to rest after America’s defeat in Afghanistan and similar events. But alas, I seem to have been wrong. The wrongheaded belief that millions of Iranians were yearning to become MAGA republicans or Jeffersonian democrats seems to be alive and well. However the truth is this: the rhetorical claims of a universal civilization — typified by a conflation of modernization and liberalism — have often been used to justify Western aggression against non-Western civilizations. This is obviously the case in the present conflict. There is no global civilization, and there is no war for civilization. All of this is masterfully explained in Samuel Huntington’s, The Clash of Civilizations, chapter 3.

6. Civilizations, Not Civilization

“Universalism is the ideology of the West for confrontations with non-Western cultures. As is often the case with marginals or converts, among the most enthusiastic proponents of the single civilization ideas are intellectual migrants to the West, such as Naipaul and Fouad Ajami, for whom the concept provides a highly satisfying answer to the central question, Who am I? … The non-Wests see as Western what the West sees as universal. What Westerners herald as benign global integration … non-Westerners denounce as nefarious Western imperialism.” S. Huntington, Clash, p. 66.

7. Some realist multi-polar points for reflection —

(a) There is no universal, global civilization, there are only civilizations; (b) “global liberal” civilization was just one version of western civilization; (c) civilizations are irreducible and the primary subjects of history; (d) it must be accepted as a practical norm that global humanity will never be reduced to one universal form of life. S. H., Clash, chapter 2.

8. Character and Decline

At a deeper level, I have become ever more convinced that the classical understanding of politics and international relations is correct. Despite appearances, these realities are actually governed by basic human motivations and passions; character is just as important as ideology. As Plato taught, the city is the soul writ large. Likewise, Thucydides explained the outbreak of the disastrous Peloponnesian wars in terms of fear.

In the present war, nothing is so clear to me as the moral and intellectual bankruptcy of our leaders — ignorant, illiterate, graceless, boorish, hubristic, and foolish. This is manifest in the principle instigator of our present darkness, President Donald Trump. In this case, I do not think fear was the dominant factor. Rather vanity is the vice that marks Donald Trump.

In the classical perspective, vanity is the habitual and excessive love of praise. A moderate desire for respect and recognition is both reasonable and natural, but the vain man cares too much for praise; he rates praise too highly and even seeks praise for things that are not praiseworthy, like unjust wars. Trump’s endless self-glorification, thin skin, pettiness, pride, and constant bragging all evince his profound vanity. It may be that this war is about nothing more than the vanity of a declining old man. Perhaps.

9. The Reign of foolishness.

One of the worst features of the Trump movement (MAGA) is its philistine, lowbrow, rejection of reason, knowledge, and expertise. To raise the possibility that a given task might require the work of credentialed experts solicits sneers and complaints of bureaucracy from the MAGA faithful. I have argued before that mere populism is not a realistic program of governance, for the many lack the specialized skills required for effective governance. Instead, MAGA ignores expertise and science in favor of bluster, boasting, and memes. All of this has come to the fore in the dismissal of experienced military officers and the replacement of professional diplomats with family members, loyalist hacks, and real estate moguls. Responsibility is the application of knowledge and expertise to action. Sadly, this is foreign to the spirit of Trump and the present conflict.

In a recent discussion about Anselm’s famous ontological argument, my interlocutor claimed that the superiority of real existence over mental existence is merely a subjective opinion; to put it another way, he claimed that real being is not really greater than ideal being alone. In the past, I considered such statements to be par for the course when discussing this particular moment in the history of philosophy. But more and more, I have come to see this line of thinking as a common error that needs to be corrected. Let me explain.

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Faith Seeking Understanding

Saint Anselm was a towering figure of the medieval church and an important contributor to the history of medieval philosophy. Broadly speaking, Anselm was a churchman of the Augustinian tradition. His outlook was broadly Platonic, but his priorities were pastoral and personal. He was an excellent example of the faithful follower of Augustine seeking to understand more deeply what he already believed with faith. To this end, Anselm formulated a single argument to prove that God must exists; this argument also serves as a guide the way for discovering further truths about God. This argument came to be called the ontological argument and it differed sharply from most theistic arguments that are more cosmological.

Most arguments for the existence of God are cosmological, that is, they are based on observations about certain features of the cosmos. On the basis of these features, the mind rises to the discovery of God as First Mover, First Cause, Necessary Being, et cetera. This kind of argument is categorized as a posteriori because the conclusion comes after experience. By contrast, Anselm’s argument is purely conceptual; it moves from the idea of God in the mind to His real existence. For this reason, Anselm’s argument is considered an a priori argument because it proceeds prior to (or without) experience. I do not intend to explain the argument in detail or defend it. My sympathies run in the cosmological direction. However, I do hold Anselm’s argument in high regard, and I believe that the background metaphysical insights at work in the argument are very important for the development of knowledge and human flourishing more generally.

The key insight of Anselm’s argument is the claim that it would be greater for God to exist in the mind and outside of the mind, than for God to exist only in the mind. And since this is so, God must exist outside of the mind, otherwise God would not be ‘that than which nothing greater can be conceived,’ which is Anselm’s definition of God. The key premise here is the claim that existing within and outside the mind is greater than existing only. Now my interlocutor would have it that this premise is a subjective judgement — it does not reflect something real about the world. In this perspective to say that something is greater than another expresses the feelings of the subject, not any real fact about the object. This view is badly misguided.

Transcendental Realities

Let us begin by analyzing Anselm’s use of the term “greater.” Anselm says that is greater to exist both inside and outside the mind. The word greater is a comparative term that means something like more or better, and it is important to recognize that comparative terms are only really meaningful when they are attached to an underlying concept or subject matter. For example, to say that so and so is a greater or better soldier, scholar, or craftsman is perfectly intelligible and may or may not be subjective depending upon the context. An artisan can demonstrate his superiority by the mastery of his craft. Even more to the point consider this example: X is a greater obstacle than Y. The meaning here is quite clear. An obstacle impedes progress in a given endeavor. Likewise, the meaning of a great or lesser obstacle is also quite evident: one obstacle impedes more strongly or forcefully than another does. Again, all of this is quite clear. Moreover, in this case the greater and lesser impediment is evidently an objective measure. In some cases, the relative force of the impediment may be weighed or at the very least the outcomes may be observed. I think something similar should be said about Anselm’s thesis and the reliability of classical metaphysics in general.

Anselm Vindicated

Anselm is correct. It is greater to be in the mind and reality than only in the mind. This is made evident by considering the underlying subject of the modifier “greater.” What is at stake in Anselm’s argument is most likely existence. Now is more existence greater than less existence? Obviously the answer is yes. And to exist both in the mind and outside the mind is clearly more existence than to exist only in the mind. And the same line of reasoning can be applied if we wish to switch out being for existence. A being that exists in the mind and outside of the mind is more being than a mere being of reason. And so on. But let us take the matter a little further than what is laid down explicitly in Anselm’s argument.

I suspect that behind my interlocutor’s skepticism is a deeper and more worrisome skepticism. At root, the poor fellow may be deceived into the view that being and nothing are equal or at the very least that being is not intrinsically greater than non-being. This sort of skepticism is the inevitable result of the metaphysical poverty of the modern mind, especially in regards to the unity of the transcendental properties of being.

A Deeper Encounter with Being

It was well-known to the ancient philosophers and medieval theologians, including Anselm, that certain, basic categories of thought actually reflect universally applicable aspects of being that are not in fact expressed explicitly in the bald term “being.” Thomas Aquinas provides perhaps the definitive account of this doctrine. In his view, terms like goodness, truth, and unity are said of every instance of being across categories and species. And this is so because goodness, truth, and unity are ultimately reducible to being. This is most evident with respect to goodness.

The term “good” is rather abstract and empty on its own. The term “good” makes the most sense when it is attached to a definable subject. Peter Geach is well known for making this point. Phrases like a good student, good teacher, or good soldier all make perfect sense. A good soldier exhibits the bravery and military skills required for armed, organized combat. Used in this way good indicates that a given individual exhibits the perfections characteristic to a certain kind of thing (a species). To put it another way, a good X, is an individual X that has actualized the capabilities of being an X to a significant degree. This may seem trivial but it is not. In fact, this insight opens the mind to seeing the transcendental reality of goodness and similar aspects of being. When goodness it tied directly to the actualization of species specific potencies we are dealing with reality — real being.

Aristotle speaks well he says that being is primarily said of substance, an individual thing that exists in itself, is spoken of in itself, and is understood in itself. Being of this sort is more fundamental than being that exists in another and is said of another.

Without delving into all of the attached arguments, I will simply state that substance, that which subsists, consists in individualized essence; this is the formal ratio of a thing made concrete in time and space. This intelligible reality is the fundamental unit of reality. All relations, processes, and qualities arise from this solid and dynamic reality. What does this have to do with goodness? If classical philosophy is correct, then goodness is tied to the realization of the species and species is nothing more or less than the abstracted concept of individualized essence. Goodness is therefore tied to every instance of essence – actualization across every species and every individual. Nothing could be more real than goodness because goodness is simply the higher realization of being in its growth towards perfection. This is the transcendental reality of goodness and ignorance of this aspect of being is at the root of a great deal of non-sense, including the denial of Anselm’s thesis that being is greater than nonbeing.

Final Thoughts

How did it come to pass that modern man for all of his reputed sophistication lost sight of these deep but basic truths of reality? The answer to that question is too lengthy for the end of this essay, but I will take it up in a future essay. Perhaps it will be entitled, “How modernity lost its grip.” We shall see. But for now the patient reader should be rewarded with this: being is greater than nonbeing, being is intrinsically intelligible, and being and goodness are really the same.

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In previous installments of Logos Letter, I have advanced the following theses: (a) man is naturally a political animal because he only flourishes within a complete community; (b) the common good is superior to the individual good; (c) the common good consists in a form of happiness, namely, the virtuous and customary use of basic goods and services.[1] These theses provide the theoretical foundation for classical polity.

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In addition to the conceptual vision of the state, real politics requires well-defined norms, institutions, and policies. In this essay (and others), I will outline the basic structure of political practice in the Aristotelian – Thomist tradition. This approach is predicated on a part-whole model of political community and a classical view of the virtue of justice.

In the classical view, political community is a perfect whole composed of imperfect parts and justice governs the part-whole relationship according to what is “due.” In this tradition, the “due” is defined concretely on the basis of the objective truth about the “other.” The “due” is what is proportionate to the other within a given relationship.

International Relations and Foreign Policy

I have explained in previous essays that the common good of the political whole is superior to the individual good of the part. This is what is due to the whole from the parts. Accordingly, justice requires that the parts of the community serve the common good. In this capacity, justice is rightly called political justice because it animates the whole political community. This form of justice shapes foreign relations and national domestic policy.

Political justice directs the entire domain of international relations to the common good of the home nation. Of course, alliances and treaty organizations may be useful to the nation under certain circumstances. Nevertheless, it is not the business of the government to become involved in ideological crusades or misguided interventionism. It is not the task of national government to transform the world or make the world safe for democracy or any similar nonsense. Rather, the national government wages war, regulates trade and immigration, and signs treaties only if it advances the common good of the nation. This does not necessarily entail a hostile attitude towards other nations. Indeed, there may be situations in which the common good of the nation (the national good) is obtained along with a broader international good. And this is well and fine insofar as it goes. However, every government must remember that it wields authority for the sake of the common good of the nation. Indeed, a government that sold out the nation to foreign or international institutions would be unjust to its own people. Accordingly, classical polity jealously guards its sovereignty.

National Domestic Policy

On the domestic policy front, political justice orders all things to the common good of the whole. For example, the government funds and oversees the recruitment and training of military forces, enforces national industrial regulations, and crafts various programs that will promote general wellbeing. In some matters, there will be little debate: the state must prohibit and punish fraud, forgery, treason, and the like. These are the necessary conditions of economic and legal order. However, other questions are more debatable. For example, tax policy is famously controversial, but traditionally falls within the domain of national domestic policy.

Taxes are direct monetary levies collected by the government for the sake of funding programs, e.g., infrastructure programs, education, and the like. In the classical view, such collections are justified in so far as they promote the common good; as such, they fall under political justice. For this reason, the government may levy taxes and determine the amount, timing, and structure (progressive versus regressive) of taxes.

The common good both justifies and limits taxes. The exact structure of taxes depends on many contingent factors, but since the common good requires the wellbeing of the whole including the less prosperous, one would generally expect to see the burden of taxes primarily imposed on the prosperous (individuals, families, and corporations) and tax benefits primarily enjoyed by the less prosperous.

In addition, political justice requires the government to frame laws for the sake of the common good and for citizens to obey these laws. At a more granular level, the primacy of the common good means that the business owner, soldier, teacher, and laborer must always prioritize the pursuit of the common good because this is what is due to the whole from the parts. The business owner funds the common good, the soldier defends it, the laborer builds the common good, and the teacher and intellectual adds truth, science, and the arts to the common good.

Social Justice and Economic Policy

Public policy is also directed by distributive justice (often called social justice today) and commutative justice (ordinary legal justice). The former directs what is owed by the whole to the parts whereas the latter governs the relationship of the parts of the community to each other.

Distributive justice concerns the division of the total aggregate of goods and services within a political community. According to this form of justice, goods and services should be distributed according to merit and need. Regarding merit, those who more richly contribute to the common good deserve a greater distribution of good and services. From this perspective, usurers, pornographers, and merchants of vanity should expect to receive far less than firemen, teachers, and policemen. In addition, the common good requires that all members of society receive a level of goods and services that makes human flourishing possible. In this approach, the state must ensure — in one way or another — that everyone has access to what he or she needs. A state that allows widespread ignorance and starvation falls very short of the common good.

Distributive justice is flexible regarding the means of distribution. The three dominant models of distribution are command, market exchange, tradition, or some combination of these forms. One of the advantages of classical political theory is that is that it is not ideologically committed to one form of distribution; classical polity is flexible and pragmatic in these matters. From the classical perspective, the various forms of distribution are actually valuable insofar as they promote the common good, the wellbeing of all, under the present circumstances.

Nevertheless, since the common good requires the wellbeing of the whole one can hardly imagine that unregulated, profit driven markets would be sufficient. Indeed, this sort of economic arrangement is ordered to the individual rather than the common good. For example, we see that profit driven markets do not efficiently distribute affordable housing and healthcare. What is needed in the medical industry is decisive public action to eliminate inefficiencies, consolidate resources, streamline processes, decrease costs and risks through consolidation, et cetera. Under the present means of production, it is probable that the common good would require a robust array of publically regulated and funded services, including healthcare, poverty assistance, unemployment insurance, education, affordable housing and the like. These programs would be just because they would insure that all the parts of the community receive what they need and deserve.

Ordinary Legal Policy

As stated above, commutative justice governs the relations between the parts of the whole; this form of justice governs market exchanges, interpersonal exchanges like communication and marriage, and even involuntary exchanges like theft and fraud. In these matters, commutative justice ensures that each party in an exchange receives what is due to it. The underlying insight here is that no one should unnecessarily lose in an exchange or be exploited; in exchanges each should gain (or loose) something of equal value. Exchanges should be mutually and equally beneficial, and it should be obvious that this criteria is consistent with the wellbeing of the whole, that is, the common good. If the parts of society damage each other, how can the common good of the whole advance?

Of course, determining the value of goods and services is a matter of some dispute among economists and philosophers. For my part, I subscribe to the Thomist view that many factors contribute to the value of a product, including production costs, market demand, use value, and even the requirements of distributive justice. Therefore, there will be some variety in what counts as a just exchange. Nevertheless, reasonable, unbiased observers within the same society should be able to agree on a just exchange in broad terms. The upshot is this: voluntary exchanges within the community should be reciprocal.

In addition, Commutative justice also redresses involuntary exchanges like theft, fraud, and assault. Such exchanges are clearly unjust crimes; on one side, a part takes or destroys the good of another part; these actions introduce an unjust inequality. This sort of injustice is perfectly expressed by the symbol of the “scales of justice,” which are disturbed and unbalanced by unjust action. In such cases, commutative justice requires that the malefactor suffer a loss that is equal to the loss suffered by the victim. In a classical polity, this principle — the principle of retribution — governs the penal code and related policies.

In sum, the interactions of the parts of a community should be mutually and equally beneficial. Such an arrangement redounds to the benefit of all, increases bonds of friendship and trust, and builds up the common good. Where this fails, just retribution should be exercised to restore the rationality and reciprocity of the state. No doubt, these norms permit a wide latitude regarding concrete policies and rightly so. Nevertheless, commutative justice provides a sufficiently clear criteria for advancing the common good and avoiding faction, greed, and injustice.

Final Thoughts

In this essay, I have outlined the basic criteria for developing laws and public policy within a classical polity and provided a few concrete example, including redistributive tax policy, universal healthcare (maybe Medicare for all or something similar), affordable housing initiatives, et cetera.

One should imagine a highly organized and organic society that features reciprocity, mutual support, solidarity, and retribution where necessary to repair the complex unity of the whole. In addition, this society rewards true merit, insures those in need, and jealously guards its national sovereignty and interests. Of course, this is no utopia — absolute equality is neither sought nor desirable, — and those who depart from the common good will be sharply corrected or removed.

Classical polity rejects individual liberty, self-interest, or luxury as ultimate values; these are the values of the Enlightenment, liberalism, and capitalism; rather classical polity reveres solidarity, honor, and self-sacrifice. Above all, classical polity is a place of justice, the most excellent of the moral virtues and more glorious than the stars. (Thomas Aquinas, ST II-II.58.12). A worthy aspiration to be sure.

[1] In classical natural law theory, the virtues are the habits of prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. Prudence presupposes certain moral platitudes like, self-preservation is to be done, ignorance is to be avoided, and the like. Finally, custom has the force of law since it is usually an implicit rational judgment that redounds to the common good.

Often in my political writings, I connect political community, human flourishing, and virtue. This is largely due to the fact that the classical tradition shapes my political perspective. Classical authors like Plato and Aristotle viewed political life as the primary context for human development, understood with a perfectionist paradigm. In this perspective, human development involves the gradual actualization of inherent capacities and inclinations embedded within human nature. This process leads to a way of life that is complete or excellent for man. This background view of human flourishing is not only important for my own political writing; rather it is the vital background for any compelling form of post-liberalism. Among the various reasons to reject liberalism is that we in fact know the true moral order for man, that is, we have a real but limited form of moral knowledge called the natural law or classical virtue ethics. Hence, postliberal discourse is greatly enriched by a concise understanding of the real human good. Moreover, it is good in itself to understand the law written on the heart.

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The Good

All human action is for the good. This thesis is at the heart of Aristotelian-Thomist ethics, and it must not be understood as an expression of moral naiveté; it does not mean that all human beings are morally pure. Rather the thesis, “all human action is for the good” is a claim about the motivation of human action. The idea is this: we intend and choose this or that action because we perceive it to be desirable in one way or another. To put it another, the perception of desirability is the controlling motivation of human action. Stated in this way, the classical view of human action is evident to the man of experience. Advantage, attraction, desirability, and benefit are the concepts that energize and orient human behavior. Even when one engages in something like unhealthy action, he does so under the aspect in which the action is attractive. For example, pleasure often inspires gluttony; one does not eat the third donut because he wants to damage his health. Rather, he does so because it elicits sensible pleasure.

However, not everything that is perceived to be desirable really is so; the mere fact of desiring something does not make it actually desirable. The good is neither subjective nor relative. Some actions are truly desirable and others are not. How do we know the difference? The good of a thing is the fulfillment of its specific function. A good eye sees well; a good carpenter shapes wood according to art and purpose; a good marksman hits the target regularly; a good general achieves military victory; a good mind finds the truth; and so on.

The specific function of a thing is its species-specific differentia, which distinguishes the subject from other members of the genus and defines it. As such, the specific function expresses the what-it-is of a thing. To put it another way, the specific function determines the meaning and purpose of a thing. Therefore, when, a given subject fulfills its specific function it acts well and becomes good and desirable according to kind. A good doctor heals effectively and the good eye sees accurately. And it is likewise for the good man.

The True Human Good

Good human action actualizes the specific function of man whereas bad actions fail to do so. And it is evident that the specific human function is reason. It follows that action according to reason is good and action contrary to reason is bad.

The evidence regarding man’s specific function is overwhelming. From science and poetry to the typewriter and the existence of philosophy, the reality and preeminence of human reason is abundantly clear. Indeed, man is the rational animal. In saying this, one need not deny that some of the other higher animals enjoy a certain degree of cognition. Yet such flashes of sense knowledge pale in comparison to the depth and complexity of human cognition. Even the ability to argue to the contrary only strengthens the thesis that man’s specific function is reason. Quod erat demonstrandum.

Given that reason is the specific function of man, it follows that it serves as the rule and measure of human action. Accordingly, in order to assess the objective goodness of an action it is necessary to understand the meaning and contours of reason itself.

Narrowly speaking, reason is the capacity to infer one truth from another truth, either inductively or deductively. From the truths that all men are mortal and Socrates is a man, reason rightly deduces the further truth that Socrates is mortal. But more broadly, “reason” signifies man’s complex and subtle power for discovering truth, that is, for understanding and knowing ens reale (real being). This power includes inferential reasoning, but also imagination, memory, intellect and so on. These aspects of rationality are distinct but united in the overarching purpose of finding truth, that is, reality. For this reason, Aristotle famously taught that all men by nature desire to know and understand. Human rationality is not turned in on itself. It is about reality; it is a light in which being presents itself. Truth is the defining characteristic of reason, and it is likewise the criterion for human action. Simply stated, action according to reason means action according to the truth.

The Standard of Truth

The adulterous wife acts badly because she contradicts the truth that she has vowed exclusivity to her husband. Murder is wrong because it is contrary to the truth that the innocent victim, as innocent, did not deserve death. Intoxication is wrong because it is contrary to the truth that such a state inhibits the ability of man — the rational animal — to know the truth. By contrast, the soldier who stands his post acts according to the truth of the primacy of the common good over the individual good. The student who is well-prepared for class, acts well because he has act according to the truth that the function of the student is to learn. Examples of this criterion could multiplied without end.

To recapitulate: the good of a thing is the fulfillment of its specific function. The specific function of man is reason and reason is ordered to truth. It follows that the good of man is to act in accordance with the truth. Of course there are hard cases, but for the most part, the criterion of truth can be applied with precision and clarity. Reason, that is, truth, is the rule and measure of human action. This is born out in experience, and it grounds not only a framework for evaluation but a way of life. If the foregoing is correct, then the desirable life for man is to consistently live in accordance with the truth across the various domains of life. And this life consists primarily in the life of the classical virtues: prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude.

The Virtues

Our lives are shaped and energized by inclinations and habits; good habits are virtues and bad habits are vices; habits are good or bad insofar as they conform to or depart from the truth. The virtues are the driving forces of living a desirable human life.

Prudence is the habit of right reason applied to action; it is the habit of discerning the truth as it concerns action. The prudent man applies deliberation, judgement, and command to action; he deliberates about the end, judges the means, and applies deliberation and judgement to concrete action. Moreover, he considers action not only from the point of view of utility and pleasure, but primarily according to the rightness, the truth, of the action.

Justice is the habit of rendering what is due to another; this virtue is said to shine because it communicates goodness and fulfillment to others. In addition, it makes community possible, which is the natural context of human flourishing. The truth related to justice is based on what is owed to another according to natural or acquired right; it is based on the truth of the object. The just man owes obedience and service to the state because the whole is superior to the part; the teacher owes a prepared lesson to his students because of the nature of their relationship; the state owes to the parts a distribution of welfare based on merit and need because this accomplishes the common good. Similarly, theft is unjust because it treats what belongs to another as if it did not and such action is contrary to truth.

Temperance and fortitude maintain truth with respect to the passions. Temperance is the habit of desiring the sensible good in keeping with decency; the temperate man habitually turns away from over indulgence and deviancy. He seeks the sensible good that is proportionate to the truth of his nature. For example, he eats in a way that is nourishing and pleasant, but in keeping with good health and detachment. He habitually desires intimacy with his own wife, but not with the wife of another. And so on.

Fortitude is the habit of persevering in right judgment despite feelings of fear and pain. Often doing the right thing is involves threats or difficulty. This is clearest in the case of soldierly duty, but it is also present in the witness who speaks an unpopular truth and laborer who provides for his family through painful physical toil.

Final Thoughts

Altogether, the virtues of prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude are called the cardinal virtues, for they are necessary to live a desirable human life. In their absence, one finds undeveloped potential, foolishness, mediocrity, and even, sometimes, great wickedness. The virtuous man avoids this folly; instead, he lives in accordance with the truth. This is the fullness of what it means to act according to reason. Of course, readers of Aristotle know that there is a higher and better good beyond the life of the cardinal virtues. Indeed readers of Aquinas know there is a good even beyond what Aristotle imagined, but that is for another day and another essay.

For now, this is enough: the life of the cardinal virtues is the concrete realization of basic human goodness in this life, and it is the form of human flourishing presupposed in all of the work of the true statesman. For this reason, Aristotle taught that the statesman must have knowledge of the soul above anything else. One can hardly imagine such an expectation of our politicians and this indicates something wrong with all of us, for as Plato insisted, city is the soul writ large.

Thomists, Aristotelians, Platonists, and others affirm that the common good is among the important elements of just political community. For this reason, many of my political essays have featured arguments about the common good. Most recently, I have argued for the primacy of the common good over the individual good, and I framed this as an alternative to classical liberalism. However, I did not explicitly define the political common good. I shall do so in this essay.

Errors About the Common Good

First, it is important to remove two common errors about the common good. The common good is not the maximal aggregate of individual goods. To put it another way, the common good is not the greatest good for the greatest number (utilitarianism). This approach to the common good fails to appreciate the real distinction between the common good and the individual good. The common good is not just the individual expanded and writ large. Rather it is really a different kind of good. This was indicated in a previous essay in which I argued that the common good possesses primacy over the individual good because it is the good of a perfect whole (the political community) and not just the individual good of an imperfect part (individual or sub-group).

Stated formally, the common good is a good one in number but shared by many, whereas the individual good is enjoyed by one. My health, my wealth, and my life are all individual goods. To be sure, my life and health have an indirect impact on others, especially my children, but this fact does not turn my life into a common good. I am the only subject animated by my life; only I enjoy this, particular actuality. The same thing could be said of many things including sensible pleasure and pain. But this is not so with the common good. The common good is shared by many; indeed it is perfective of many. Common goods include the victory of the army, a beautiful symphony, the procreation and education of children, a well-orchestrated dance, et cetera. These sorts of goods require the coordinated effort of many and they are jointly perfective. For example, the victory of the army is caused and enjoyed by many; it is the achievement and perfection of a complex, potential whole. All of the parts of the army perform different functions, but they do so under one authority, the general, and under one battle plan, and with one goal, namely, the defeat of the enemy. Once one recognizes the real distinction between individual and common goods, it becomes evident that our lives are full of common goods; indeed, it becomes evident that common goods enrich and ennoble ordinary life.

Of course, in saying that the common good really differs from the individual good, I do not intend to deny that the common good is the good of the individual person. Far from it. The common good is the good of the person even more than the individual good because it is a higher and better good. It is the good of the person, just not his individual good. It is the good that he shares with others. Confusion on this topic is the result of thinking that any real good of the individual subject must itself be an individual good. That would be sorry condition indeed.

Another error often associated with the specifically political common good is egalitarianism. This error is largely linguistic. When we think of something as common we should think of something as belonging jointly (commonly) to multiple parties. Addressing my family, I might say something like this: “maintaining the garden is a responsibility that is common to all of us.” But strictly speaking this does not imply that we have an equal responsibility or equal benefits from the garden. The error here would be to jump from “shared” to “equally shared.” The political common good indicates a good shared by all, but not necessarily shared equally by all. With these corrections in mind, it is possible to define the political common good with clarity.

The Common Good as Happiness

In the technical language of Thomist scholasticism, the political common good is imperfect active happiness. Or to state it more simply it is the virtuous use of basic goods and services. Even more concisely it may be defined as joint human flourishing. These formulas point to a central underlying claim: there is a form of human flourishing — human excellence — that we only achieve when we cooperate as parts of a political whole. The form of human flourishing in play here concerns basic goods (or in Thomas’s language, temporal goods). Basic goods make up the cornerstones of human development and actualization: security, legal justice, friendship, education, reproduction, shelter, clothing, etc. These goods are achieved most effectively and rationally within a well-ordered community, united by law, and possessing sufficient resources. I have explained this point at length in an essay entitled “Man is Naturally Part of the Body Politic.”

Man is naturally, innately inclined to political community because he needs it in order to achieve basic human development. Indeed, political community is defined precisely as the community complete for this kind of happiness. It follows that this form of happiness is essentially political, that is, it is only accessible for human nature within political community. Our happiness is deeply intertwined with political order. Indeed we may call this form of happiness, civic happiness.

Virtue and Cooperation

The connection of politics and basic human flourishing is fairly evident once it has been explained. What may be less evident is why basic human development is “common” and why virtue is included within its description. This form of happiness is common because it is only produced by the cooperation of the parts of the political whole. The political whole is a potential whole composed of many parts and the robust production of basic goods is an effect of them acting together, reinforcing one another, exchanging goods under law, cooperating in complex projects, et cetera. In this area of life, we rise together. As with the victory of the army or the beautiful symphony, the political common good is achieved jointly by the parts. The political common good is an objective that we achieve together, never individually. In this sense, imperfect active happiness is a common good.

The political common good is connected to virtue because it is a form of flourishing and any form of true human excellence involves the virtues. Human flourishing of any kind includes reason and virtue. Planning, understanding, and good judgment are required in any human endeavor. This sort of practical reasoning is perfected by the habit of prudence. In addition, a man must be able to endure some pain or at least feelings of displeasure and control his desires. These are the virtues of fortitude and temperance. Finally, in political matters, the virtue of justice “shines” the most brightly as Thomas Aquinas indicates, for it is the virtue that gives to the whole it due and gives to the parts their due; this is the virtue that orders the community to the common good, but also attends to the needs of the parts.

In sum, the political common good is imperfect active happiness, and it consists in the virtuous and common development of basic goods and services. This is so because this form of happiness can only be achieved in political community, through cooperative and virtuous action.

The Common Good in Action

What does the political common good look like in practice? In subsequent essays, I will spell this out in detail, but for now a few brief comments should suffice.

The common good is the first principle of well-ordered political community, and it mandates cooperative action on the behalf of the material and moral well-being of the many. As such, this not an artificially narrow for of community. Rather this approach to politics recognizes that we rise and fall together. To this end, all of the parts contribute to the common good according to their proper function and always to the benefit of all. Normally this done by the parts carrying out their normal duties, but under government direction. All contribute to the common good, but the government possesses the primary responsibility for coordinating the actions of the parts Accordingly, this form of polity places a high value on obedience, law, and wise regulation. Similarly military service, paying taxes, and public service are expected. Of course, there is no question of the parts being absorbed by whole, but neither are they permitted to act autonomously.

For example, in the matter of housing, the government leaves actual production in the hands of private companies, but directs builders to produce a wide spectrum of houses that meet the needs of all of the parts of the community — not only luxury housing for the very rich. Similarly, the government would act on the consumer side of housing to reserve housing primarily for residential, domestic ownership and would severely restrict speculative and corporate ownership. In this way, all of the parts of the community participate in the basic good of housing. Of course, both producers and sellers are permitted to pursue their own profits, but only in a way that distributes the good of housing broadly.

The example of cooperative housing aptly illustrates the contours of the political common good. It is a cooperative way of life, concerned with goods and services that broadly distributes the material welfare of the community in a way that is in keeping with virtue. This form of politics, indeed this political goal, distinguishes a higher and betters form political community than any of the current forms of social democracy or neo-liberalism.

We rise together, or apart we all fall.

I recently had a conversation with my oldest son that was both edifying and alarming. One Saturday morning, he said something like this: “school has taught me to argue well, to write good papers, and give speeches, but because they are afraid to offend they have not taught us much about right and wrong. Does that mean that I have just learned how to do rhetoric?” As you can imagine, this comment brought the ordinary chores of a Saturday morning to a complete halt.

Those who are familiar at all with classical philosophy will know that the interaction of philosophy and rhetoric was a major catalyst for the development of philosophy and logic in ancient Athens. In the Gorgias, Plato portrayed rhetoric as almost entirely evil: capable of effective persuasion but unconnected to truth. Aristotle took a more moderate view. Rhetoric is a tool that has its place, but only those with a virtuous character should use it. Interestingly, Plato and Aristotle agree that rhetoric on its own does not provide one with a fulsome understanding of what is really good. And, this is so important. Without knowledge of the good, one does not know what is really desirable and what is not. The upshot is that Plato condemns rhetoric in favor of philosophy — the true philosopher comes to see the good in itself — and Aristotle insists that a virtuous man should be well established in moral character before taking up rhetoric. With this background in mind, I can honestly say that my son’s comments were both encouraging and discouraging. His comments were encouraging because he had truly and rightly spotted a lacuna in his education: modern education (even in relatively good schools) remains largely silent on the question of virtuous character, and I was proud that my son had the intelligence to realize this truth. At the same time, the lack of character formation in contemporary education is lamentable.

Men without Chests

To invoke the langue of T. S. Eliot and C. S. Lewis, men without character are men without chests — they are the hollow men.1 Without character, men lack the wisdom to know what to do and the strength to fulfill difficult duties. And it must be admitted that this characterization fits the men and women of our all too well — foolish, weak, and full hubris. Alisdair MacIntyre noticed this trend in his magnum opus, After Virtue, and identified it with the “character” of the manager.

In Macintyre’s view every cultural epoch has central “characters” who embody social norms and expectations. For example, medieval characters include the king, the knight, the saint, and even the fool. The contemporary era is embodied by the soulless manager; this character is devoid of deep moral commitments, but a master of efficiency. He is effective, impactful, and useful, for almost any project; to put it a different way, he is an effective means to almost any end, regardless of its virtue. Let that sink in. He is like an excellent marksman. He consistently kills enemy combatants, regardless of who is in the right or wrong. In this way, the manager is in the arena of practical action, like the sophist in the arena of speech. The sophist is a master of persuasion. He can convince almost any audience of almost anything. And in this way the sophist is useful. But the problem is this: mastery in persuasion is indifferent to truth and falsehood. It is all a matter of technique.

The Managerial Regime

The “type” of the manager tells us something important about modern culture. He is useful, amoral, and technique driven. In saying these things, I do not mean to demean the manager — the effective use of resources is obviously useful. Every society needs effective agents. But the manager is amoral in this sense: he is not defined by a moral end, a substantive view of the good. Of course this could be said of many professions. So why is the case of the manager so important? The reason is this: it is not the mere existence of managers. Managers are necessary for effective organization. Rather the problem in our time is this the preeminence of managers. In other epochs, sages, kings, priests, artists, saints, and philosophers were preeminent. They developed a substantive ethos, a felt cultural pressure that oriented the community beyond the merely useful to what is really good for the community. Once ethos is at work and embodied in the leadership class, the managers become truly useful, as they organize resources for what is really good. But this structure is exactly what our society lacks, and it is revealed by the preeminence of the manager.

The preeminence of the managerial type indicates that a society lacks a mature and deep ethos; such a society is characterized by triviality, selfishness, superficiality, and ignorance. This sort of society is dysfunctional because it lacks a shared substantive spirit; it lacks Logos and Telos. In the managerial perspective, there is no set moral agenda for society, no common good, but only competing individual agendas. Each individual follows his own desires whether they are correct or not. This arrangement is conducive to selfishness, greed, lust, and so on — so it is no wonder that such an arrangement is popular. (More on this point below.) And of course in this scenario the manager is preeminent — he is valued because he is effective toward any end or agenda, without regard to virtue.

The Technological Attitude

Ultimately, the ascendancy of the managerial type is the symptom of a spiritual malaise, namely, the technological attitude. In this perspective, technique and technology are preeminent because nothing is valuable in itself (there is no purpose in itself). Instead, everything becomes a mere instrument to the more craven appetites of humanity: greed, hubris, lust, and the cowardly avoidance of both death and transcendence. Use and use value dominates all evaluation. Technique reigns supreme in this way of being because it feeds the appetite and distracts the conscience. Of course, not all of humanity is so demonic, but this evil is real and pervasive in the hollowed out character of modern culture and education. Indeed, this is why we teach our students to be men without chests — men without ethos, logos, and telos. Such men are designed to be the technology of other men’s appetites.

How did we get to this point? One could provide several answers: the decline of the liberal arts in education, the hollowing out of religion, excessive diversity, debilitating demographic trends, et cetera. Of these options, the corruption of education may be the most damning, but I want to concentrate on something that comes before formal education.

Aristotle teaches us that before young men are educated they must already have the right forms of love and hatred, that is, they must already be animated by a love of God, family, country, ancestors, and virtue, and they must hate everything opposed to these values. To be sure, some may be repulsed by the claim that students should have the right forms of hatred. Regarding this point, Thomas Aquinas points out that the passion of hatred is usually rooted in a prior act of love. For Thomas, hatred is not arbitrary hostility; rather it consists in the ardent rejection (antipathy) of whatever is opposed to love. One who loves his family, hates (rejects) those things that threaten his children. Understood in this way, there should be no real objection to the notion of a “correct hatred.”

Moreover, when I speak of correct passions, I am not referring to a correct knowledge of what should be loved or what should be hated. Rather I am referring to concrete, living passions. Perhaps surprisingly these are the raw materials for forming virtuous character, especially prudence. The key insight here is to realize that virtue presupposes at least some ends that are already desired and intended. Indeed, When we desire and intend the right sort of objectives, we lay the foundation for a virtuous character.

Men with Chests

The desire to create a family, worship God, and serve your nation are the forms of love that give rise to virtue, whereas the craven desires for endless wealth or unlimited praise set the stage for vice and decline. To put it another way, virtue presupposes well-tutored passions and inclinations. Men disciplined in this way do not lack chests, they do not lack character, and as such they can put their education to the proper use. They can use technique without giving in to the technological attitude, and doing so is of paramount importance for two reasons.

First, a society led by men without chests is lost, blind, and incapable of pursuing the common good; it gropes blindly into the future. Perhaps more importantly, the picture of the technological society that I have painted is deceptive in one important way. The technological society holds out the possibility of a society in which advanced techne empowers individuals in their pursuit of individual satisfaction. This image suggests that technological society facilitates the spontaneity and originality of the individual. It is every man for himself, but at least each man gets to do it his way through the power of technology. However, the truth is much darker. The technological society empowers some to dominate and use others; indeed those few who control technology, actually control everyone else. The preeminence of technology does not mean the liberation of man from natural boundaries, but the domination of the many by the few. If we would avoid the tyranny of techne, we need much more than democracy and the like. We need leaders with chests.[1]

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[I did not mean to write such a dark essay; sometimes the words have a will of their own.]

[1] Many sources inspired this essay: Heidegger’s later philosophy, C. S. Lewis’s, Abolition of Man, and T. S. Eliot’s poem, “The Hollow Men” and to a lesser extent James Burnham. The idea of “men without chests” comes from C. S. Lewis.

In the last installment of Logos Letter, I considered the first principal of classical political thought: man is naturally a part of the greater political whole. I went on to explain that this is so because the human person only flourishes within the context of decent political community. In other words, the human person is naturally inclined to political community because this social form directly supports a certain kind of happiness, namely, active happiness. This position amounts to a version of what I call corporatism, which is the dialectical opposite of individualism.

For individualists, man is fundamentally a distinct unit, existing in itself and for itself; connection, association, and membership are mere additions to the more basic reality of the solitary individual. In this perspective, the individual is prioritized and politics is framed entirely in terms of individual rights. By contrast, corporatism recognizes the true reality of relationships and communities (as potential wholes).[1] Thomist-corporatism further recognizes that the human person finds his good and perfection, precisely within relationships and communities and related actions.

Think about the flourishing good life. We do not come into being in isolation. Rather from the beginning we are embedded in unchosen but real relations and communities. We are born into families and the quality of the family life goes a long way in early human development. Indeed, a great deal of human flourishing is directly dependent on healthy family life. Most men are also strongly linked to groups outside the family circle: neighborhood friends, voluntary associations, educational institutions, religious community, extended family, and so on. And at the active level, human flouring is in large part achieved by successfully engaging in these communal realities, and this is why humans are naturally inclined towards community. This truth is the central claim of corporatism: we do not flourish isolation but within various social bodies — the body politic most of all. For this reason, the individual (and the family) is compare to the political community as a dependent and imperfect part to a perfect whole. The primacy of the common good follows necessarily from the structural logic of political community.

The Primacy of the Common Good

The individual is naturally a part of the political community because he is dependent upon the political whole for his flourishing and development; he is incomplete for human flourishing (understood as active happiness), whereas the political community is complete for human flourishing — indeed the political community is distinguished and defined by its completeness for human development. For this reason, the human person is compared to the political community as an imperfect part to the perfect whole. And according to right reason, the imperfect should be subordinated to the perfect. It necessarily follows that the individual good of the part is subordinate to the common good of the whole community. To my mind, this argument is simply deductive. But even if this is so, it is important to avoid a common misunderstanding.

The common good is not an alien good to the human person; it is truly the good of the person; it is just no not his individual good. Understanding this point requires reflection on the distinction between an individual and common good.

The good is said in many ways. The good may be defined as useful, delightful, and honorable. Also the good may be divided as individual and common. The former is the good of one; it perfects one, and it is enjoyed by one. Examples of the individual good include health, life, wealth, and the like. By contrast, the common good is a good one in number, but shared and enjoyed by many. Or to put it another way, it is a good that perfects many rather than perfecting only one. Examples of the common good include an excellent symphony, the victory of an army, and even a great conversation. Indeed once we reflect on this division — the division of the good into individual and common — it becomes apparent that our lives are filled with a wide diversity of common goods.

The common good belongs to the many rather than to one, but it does not follow from this fact that it is no the good of the human person. The individual good of the human person is the good of only one man, but the common good is the good of the person that he shares with others. It is still his good, but it is not his exclusively — it is not his individual good. And it is a mere matter of indoctrination that we assume that any good of the person must belong to him exclusively. This assumption is radical individualism at its worst, for the opposite is the truth: the best goods of human life are common goods, that is, goods we share with others. With this point clarified, we are in a position to understand more fully the primacy of the common good in political life.

The Primacy of the Common Good, Again

In addition to the “part-whole” argument, another important arguments may be marshalled on behalf of the common good: an argument from the hierarchy of final causes.

The common good is a greater and higher good than the individual good. This is evident from the fact that the common good perfects the many whereas the individual good perfects only one. It follows necessarily that the common good is a greater good than the individual good, for it is more perfective than the latter. Furthermore, the greater good should be loved and preferred to the lesser good. Therefore, the common good is to be preferred and loved more than the individual good of the part.

State less formally, the argument from finality directs us to attend to the many blessings that flow from political community. Without the resources and legal framework of political community we would lack justice, the arts and science, peace and security, economic infrastructure, funding for advancements in modern medicine, electrification of the power grid and so much more. To be sure, the individual good is a real good, but in pales in comparison to the rich resources found in the political common good.

The Politics of the Common Good

In this essay, I have demonstrated that the individual good is subordinate to the common good of the whole. What does this mean in practice? I have not spelled out in any detail the specific content of the political common good (this will be considered in a future essay). Nevertheless, can offer a few initial answers.

At a very basic level, the primacy of the common good means that the purpose of political life is not exclusively defined in terms of individual interests. Contrary to liberalism, the state does not exist to defend individual rights. The primacy of the common good means that the individual good of the part is subordinate to the higher interests of the political community. This does not that the individual good is evil or that it should never be considered or pursued. Far from it. In many cases, the individual good of the part is a worthy and proper objective of the part. Nevertheless, the primacy of the common good means that this sort of pursuit will always be subject to the demands of a higher order of finality.

Stated more positively the primacy of the common good means that the highest purpose of politics is to secure a good that we achieve together — a good one in number that perfects the many. It turns out that the proper good of the political community is a group good. Why? Because human development and a certain kind of perfection can only be achieved by participation in political community. Now this explanation may mislead the reader; the unwary reader might conclude that, well, ultimately the purpose of politics is some kind of personal perfection, which is an individual good. However, this faulty line of reasoning rests on one of the foundational errors of liberalism. The assumption at work in this error is the belief that perfection (or happiness) is always an individual good. By contrast, the classical Thomist tradition insists that a certain form of perfection (active happiness) is proper to the political whole. To put it more simply, we only achieve active happiness together, as parts cooperating within the greater political whole.

A Final Comment

Some will find the primacy of the common good challenging or even threatening. From the perspective of the twentieth-century political history, I understand this concern. But political imagination must not always be held hostage to the errors of another age. And at the same time we must admit the real evils of global neo-liberalism: the attack on the natural family, widespread deviancy, abortion, the subversion of Western civilization, radical wealth inequality, alarming suicide rates, globalism, the decline of Christianity, oligarchy, Zionism, the influence of the military industrial complex, et cetera. Finally, we should remember from our own experience, that the very best things in life elevate us beyond our individuality and connect us deeply to those around us: our neighbors, lovers, spouses, friends, teammates, companions, and fellow-citizens. We are at our best, when we pivot from the narrow horizons of self-interest, and aspire to solidarity and community with others. This is the politics of the common good and our only hope for the future.

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[1] To be sure, such entities are not natural substances; nevertheless some relationships and communities are real accidents (secondary realities).One mistake often made by the neophyte is to assume that the distinction between substance and accidents is a distinction between the real and pseudo-real. But this is not so. Indeed, many of the most important aspects of reality are metaphysically speaking accidents: friendship, virtue, marriage, habits of knowing, etc.

Man is political by nature. This is the first principle of classical political thought, and it is at odds with entire liberal tradition. Since the Enlightenment, John Locke and others have taught us to think about politics as if it is a matter of rational agreement. We are all part of a social contract, in which we, as individuals, have freely delegated powers of enforcement and adjudication to the government in order to protect our “individual rights.” In this perspective, politics is voluntary, contractual, individualistic, and limited to the intentions of the contractual parties. By contrast, ancient and medieval authors, like Aristotle, Cicero, and Thomas Aquinas placed political life within the natural order. We no more decide to be political than we decide to bipedal, it is just part of being human. Indeed, by nature, the human person is a part of the greater political whole. To put a fine point on it in Aristotelian terms, human beings are endowed with an internal inclination to build political community.

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The evidence for man’s political nature is ubiquitous. Wherever the environment supplies sufficient material resources, we find men coming together to form political communities. We make laws, form armies, build up regulatory institutions, and develop markets. And all of this activity is brought together under some form of authorized, that is, “legitimate” governmental power.

The Matter and Form of Political Life

Contrary to the illusions of the liberal tradition, government is rarely invented by rational agreement. Historically, governments come in many different forms and from many different sources. Some governments are created by the gods or a god-inspired lawgiver. Sometimes authority is derived from the possession of a sacred site or a sacred bloodline, and so on. However, within this diversity we can find some defining elements. True political government is the result of a recognized process (or source) of legitimacy, it possesses real coercive power usually exercised in the promulgation and enforcement of law, and finally, this power is generally directed to the common good of the political whole (I will take up the controverted question of the common good in a subsequent essay). And note well: in this perspective democracy and democratic processes do not have a monopoly on legitimacy. This is because classical theory is rooted in the reality of political order not ideology. The classical authors look to what actually happens on the ground, and they see that “legitimacy” is part of political reality and that it is diverse.

However, it is important to remember that government power is not everything in classical political theory. As indicated, political reality includes many complex elements like markets for commerce, shared cultural institutions, and economic resources. We may think of these elements as the “matter” — the necessary conditions — for political community. Aristotle is helpful on this point: political community is the perfect society, that is, it is complete for human flourishing (integral human development). Obviously, Aristotle does not mean that political communities are morally pristine — he is not that naive. Rather he means that some communities reach a stage of development, such that are distinguished as possessing everything needed for human flourishing. Such communities (political communities) are superior to families and tribes because although the latter are certainly natural they are relatively incomplete. A family or even a group of families, living in isolation, is not sufficient for the good life. Of course, these communities are important aspects of human development and eventually become parts of the political community. When the material elements are combined with effective governance, the reality of political community emerges from the natural dynamism of the human person. And it is essential to recognize that this is a kind of reality. Once political matter (sufficient material resources) and political form (effective government) come together, political reality comes into being. This is a new and real being that transcends its constituent parts. However, as I explained in a previous essay, political being is real but accidental; it is a potential whole sufficient for civic happiness (more on this below). This form of being is natural in its origin, although its details will be a matter of art.

The Good of Politics

Political community is a reality with its own internal causes (formal and material) and it inevitably flows from human nature. But why is this so? Why is human nature ordered to political community? Human nature is order to political community because it is good and desirable for the human person. Now this claim may be surprising to modern sensibilities. Of course the dishonesty and double-dealing that often plagues politics is worthy of contempt. Nevertheless, political community has produced innumerable achievements; sometimes these achievements have been directly produced by the government or public action; other times, it is the parts of the community that do so. But even in this case, the parts achieve what they do because they are parts. This point is often forgotten, but it is true. Even the most seemingly independent entrepreneur depends upon the political community for stable currency, secure banking, transportation infrastructure, law enforcement, etc. Indeed, the many blessings of political community are evident upon reflection and chief among them is civic happiness.

The Forms of Happiness

Saint Thomas Aquinas and his best students, recognize four forms of happiness: perfect eternal beatitude, temporal beatitude, contemplative happiness, and finally civic happiness. What all of these forms of happiness have in common is that they represent the actualization of the intellectual soul in one way or another. The intellectual soul (the rational soul) is what distinguishes man from the other animals and empowers him to develop the arts, science, virtues, and so on.

Civic happiness or active happiness is the rational use of basic goods like life, food, shelter, family life, and the like. This is a real but incomplete form of happiness, and it is acquired through our natural powers. The second level of happiness is contemplative and consists in the actualization of the speculative intellect through acts of insight, definition, demonstration, and most of all contemplation. This too is a natural, acquired, and imperfect form of happiness. Soaring above the natural forms of happiness are the supernatural, infused forms of happiness. Highest of all is beatitude, which consists in contemplative union with God. This form of happiness fills the souls with complete truth, wisdom, and joy. Although the natural forms of happiness remotely participate in beatitude, it is beyond our natural powers. Finally, the second highest form of happiness is temporal beatitude; this is the life of faith and grace experienced here and now, by those pursuing eternal beatitude. It is a mixture of natural and supernatural powers, faith and reason, acquired and infused habits. At its best, it includes the better elements of civic and contemplative happiness. Now all of this is important because one form of happiness is exclusively available within political community, namely, active happiness. This connection is built into the essence of political community and connected to our natural aptitude for politics.

The Being of Politics and Conversion

In summary: we are naturally inclined to political community because it is good for us, and it is good for us because it is the proper context for achieving active happiness, that is, the rational use of basic goods. In this perspective, the existence and reality of politics is not up to us. It is a matter of natural order; it is given in reality. Of course the particular details and applications of specific regimes will be matters of human determination. Nevertheless, the deep connection between civic happiness and political community is itself not optional: without political community you cannot achieve active happiness. The pursuit of happiness is not an individual matter; indeed active happiness is not an individual good at all; rather it is the common good of political community. This conclusion is unlikely to be welcome by libertarians, classical liberals, and political individualists. But in truth, decent political order and active happiness go together and this indicated by the trajectory of human nature. Nature is the sign that we should willingly obey political authority in order to achieve flourishing for others and ourselves. Indeed, this is a matter of natural law.

To put a fine point on it: real politics is not based on a rational, self-interested choice. Rather political reality is based on the natural fact that human beings rise and fall together. Politics is part of nature; this is a non-negotiable. For this reason, nature inclines man to be a part of the greater political whole; in this way, the human person advances his own actualization within the potential whole of politics.

In fact, the toxicity of our own politics is rooted in our individualism and unwillingness to rise together. Indeed, we must convert to something like this perspective:

We see individuals as not simply left free to follow their own self-centered inclinations, but as bound together with the whole community by obligations and mutual concern for one another and assisting one another; while the community is seen as something that has great value on its own merits, which transcends the individuals not merely because of its power, but by virtue of its place in the moral order and purpose it accomplishes.[1]

[1] Heinrich Pesch, Ethics and the National Economy (Published 1918; IHS Press, 2004), 59.

I wanted to write about the joy of teaching. Here I mean the real, concrete phenomenon of joy that teachers experience from time to time. I would like to define this form of joy, explore its causes, compare it to similar experiences, and so on. But given the darkness of the present times, a positive exploration of joy seems almost out of place.

As I have mentioned recently, the world seems to be on fire. From the hateful destruction of Palestinians in Gaza to sectarian anti-Christian violence in Syria, the world seems awash in wrath, violence, and cruelty. The vile Elon Musk mindlessly fires federal employees and guts essential government services, the Russo-Ukraine war continues, and so on. Amidst all of this suffering, vice, and stupidity, is it seemly to write about simple things like joy and teaching? Maybe I should write an essay, explaining that Israel has far exceeded the bounds of just retribution vis-à-vis Hamas and Gaza. On the one hand, we have the personal experience of joy; on the other, we have the tragic impact of large historical forces. I feel torn between the two, so I am going to write about this very tension — the tension between our awareness of global history and our personal experience of the world.

Global History

At one level, we have the universal unfolding of history. From this perspective, we can look out on hundreds or even a thousand years of history and detect patterns — shifting, but almost predictable currents. This is a heady perspective to be sure. From this advantage, one raises questions about the meaning and purpose of history. On this height, one thinks about Hegel and the meaning of history.

For my own part, I do not think that history is just one damn thing after another. Rather, as a Christian, I know that history is the outworking of a divine plan. But even below the theological level, I think there are patterns or at least tendencies that can be detected. Indeed, when one zooms back far enough one can see the reality of something like zeitgeist — an idea or spirit that defines a whole epoch. This way of thinking about history is valuable in itself because it actualizes the contemplative mode of intellect, which is among the higher goods of human existence. Indeed, it constitutes a midway point between imperfect civic happiness, and the beatific vision. As an Aristotelian, I am firmly convicted that abiding and universal truths can be gleaned from the changing particularities of history. But there is a flip side to this global view of history.

Personal Experience

I once knew someone who studied history, but was afraid of being crushed by it. After many years of thinking about it, I think I understand her perspective, in part. As already mentioned, it is possible to discern patterns and universal truths in the changing tides of history. From one point of view, this is an intellectually appealing vision, but from another it may appear to be an unstoppable force that crushes individuality and creativity. Let me explain.

What if Marx, Hegel, or Augustine were to be correct? Each of these thinkers certainly affirms the reality of a pattern, and even a structure in history. Indeed, both Marx and Hegel made confident predictions about the shape of the future based on what amounted to a supposed philosophical science of history. I will deal with Marx for the sake of convenience.

Marx saw history as the unfolding of a material dialectic. This involved the repeated transition from one form of production to an opposed arrangement. In essence, ever major pivot in the unfolding of history is driven by competition for the means of production. Why is this so? Because work and production is freedom — it is the expression of man’s greatness and dignity. Accordingly, possessing the means of production is how we realize our freedom in space and time. Marx predicted that inevitably the ownership of the means of production would be over-concentrated into the hands of the few in late capitalism. This will lead to the collapse of capitalism and the private ownership of the means of production will finally be rejected. In the place of private (or corporate) ownership, the means of production will be socialized and held collectively. Well it didn’t turn out that way (although Marx’s critique of capitalism is not entirely wrong), but this was a vision of history that impacted the live or millions of men and women. More to the point, what if it were true? Well in a certain sense the unique features and free choices of the individual would appear to be insignificant, overwhelmed by the tides of history. Indeed, one could come to imagine that all individuals are mere dependent parts in the machine of history or really mere instruments of larger forces. In such a perspective, personal space is diminished and eliminated and the intimate moments of life are crushed by the weight of history.

Now Marxism is only one global interpretation of history, and this essay is not meant to be a critique of this particular theory. Rather I am bringing to light the ways in which any global vision of history may be viewed from a certain perspective to be a threat to freedom or a truly human way of being in the world — present, personal, intimate, and engaged. And to be honest, although I reject Marxism, I believe in both the patterns and power of history. History is not just one thing after another. It does have a meaning (or set of warring meanings). And history is powerful. The person afraid of being crushed the force of history is not irrational.

Try this as a thought experiment. Think of your own life. Then think of the historical context in which you live. Consider the politics of your time, the level of technology, and the economic arrangements. These factors and many others are effects of historical forces that existed before you and extend beyond your range of control. Your language, place of birth, sex, culture, childhood religious affiliation, et cetera, are unchosen historical facts that condition everything about you. Do you see the point? Your existence really is a moment or a flicker in the rushing waves of history. Perhaps. I think this perspective must be true to some extent. At the same time, I cannot abandon the belief that personal existence is impactful and deeply significant.

The Unity of the Human Person

In defense of the personal dimension of experience I can say this, only fanatics and madmen act consistently from the perspective of global history. Even a good communist is not always acting from the perspective of the revolution. To be sure, his ideology informs his experience and agency, but other factors remain in play — biological urges, inherited beliefs, friendships, memories, etc. For the most part, we move and strive from a personal perspective. This suggests that history is not all powerful. But I think a better hypothesis is available.

Perhaps I have drawn the distinction between the historical and the personal too sharply. Many distinctions are like this. Initially, they bring to light features of reality or experience that were previously obscure, but pushed too far the very same distinction may end up misguiding us. Perhaps the historical and the personal are mutually informing dimensions of the human condition or equally attractive poles in the continuum of human experience. I think something like this must be the correct view.

Think about it this way. Consciousness of others and even self-consciousness is capable of sliding from the personal perspective to the global historical perspective. It is in the subject of the person that these perspectives are united; he is the real metaphysical subject of these perspectives, but neither form of consciousness needs to be privileged. Each perspective comes with its own form of awareness and agency. Global historical consciousness is synchronic, abstract, and features social agency; conversely, personal consciousness is analytic and concrete, and features individual agency; but again, these two modes of awareness and action are united in the metaphysical subject of the person. As such, they are mutually informing. I never lose myself entirely in the currents of history and my personal experience is always informed by history. The threads are inextricably interwoven. The goal is to bring these threads into a woven tapestry rather than a tangled mess.

So what is the practical import of all this speculation? An awareness of the flow of history is entirely legitimate for the rational subject. Indeed, our engagement with the flow of time (think of emotional reminiscences) distinguishes the human way of being in the world. It is both intellectually compelling and daunting; it is spiritually elevating and limiting. On the other hand, it is also legitimate to step back from our awareness of history and engage at a more personal level. Should the drama and terror of global politics engage the passions of the soul? Yes. Should we return from history and find solace and meaning in personal engagement? Yes.

I will risk one more image: remember the chariot in Plato’s Phaedrus and the two horses.

A Note to Readers: I appreciate all of those who read these essays and engage with the podcast. However, I need to increase the number of paid subscribers. If you are a free subscriber please consider becoming a paid member — even at the minimal level. As always, most of the material on Logos Letter will remain free. Thank you for your consideration.

Augustine’s De Libero unites many themes that pervade his early work. In books I and II, Augustine argues for the reality of the eternal law, a form of illumination theory, and the freedom of the will, among other theses. In book III, he sets out to demonstrate the compatibility of God’s goodness and the existence of evil in the world; in doing so, he formulates a set of distinctions and arguments suggesting that the good of the human person may indeed be subordinated to higher norms in the unfolding of history, namely, the perfection and glory of God.

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Throughout his career Augustine was deeply concerned with the origin of evil both in himself and in the wider world and the challenge of reconciling the existence of evil with the existence of God. Simply stated, if everything comes from God, and God is supremely good, how can evil exist in God’s world? In treating this problem, Augustine focuses on two questions in the De Libero: (1) first, whether the existence of unrepentant sinners is compatible with the goodness of God; (2) second, whether it would have been better if God created the universe without unrepentant sinners?[1]

The Pervasive Emanation of the Good

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Modern political analysis often takes the form of contemporary political science, which consists primarily (but not exclusively) in the statistical analysis of political behavior. The overall result is an account of politics that is primarily positivistic, legalistic, and descriptive. The normative or prescriptive task of political analysis is left to advocates and journalistic commentators. This side of analysis is largely regarded as opinion, and the upshot is a hodgepodge of opinion and advocacy layered over quantitative research.

In principle, there is nothing wrong with the use of quantitative political research. It is capable of accurately tracking political behavior, especially voting patterns in advanced democracies, and making probabilistic predictions. These are important data points for understanding contemporary political trends and constructing political narratives rooted in demographic patterns. Nevertheless, such accounts fall short of the explanatory depth and breadth proper to a rigorous, empirical-deductive science of politics.

In the Aristotelian-Thomist tradition, science begins with experience, but it does not remain at the level of phenomena. Rather, rigorous, philosophical science defines the subject matter, identifies principles, uncovers the relevant universal causes, and demonstrates essential properties and conclusions. And very importantly, science about practical matters includes normative conclusions about what should and should not be done. Thomist political philosophy embodies these criteria, and, as such, it aspires to provide an analysis of politics that is at once causal, systematic, and deductive, but rooted in experience and fully prescriptive. In what follows, I shall sketch the general framework and procedures of Thomist political philosophy.

The Subject Matter of Political Philosophy

Rigorous philosophical enquiry presupposes a clear understanding of the subject matter; ultimately, a definition of the subject matter is required. And as any student of logic will attest, forming an adequate definition is sometimes more difficult than anticipated. Indeed, this is evident to anyone who has read the Socratic dialogues. A definition is determined by identifying the specific characteristic that differentiates the subject matter from closely related concepts (technically, other members of the genus). The test of a good definition is that it is neither too broad nor too narrow: it should only cover the subject matter, and it should not exclude any genuine instances.

So, what is a political community? First, it is evident that a political community is a group or composite whole, but not a substantive whole. It is a group of individual substances. However, this is not quit correct because the individual substances — individual men and women — are members of various other groups. To put it another way, political community is a group made up of less comprehensive groups — families, smaller physical communities, and various associations — and finally these lesser groups are composed of individuals. In sum, political community is not a substantive whole; it is a potential whole, composed of groups of individuals, and it is fully capable of cooperation for the common good.

One unfortunate side effect of learning the Aristotelian distinction between substance and accident is the tendency to discount the latter — to act and speak as if accidents are trivial. Nothing could be further from the truth. Indeed, many of the most important aspects of life are technically accidents: friendships, virtues, arts, sciences, etc. Political community is an accident, but real whole. To be specific, the political community is a potential whole, that is, the kind of whole that has the potential (the power) to perform as certain form of action. To put it another way, a potential whole is a composite unified by action because it possesses the parts requisite for the action and the parts are rightly arranged. For example, think of an army, symphony, or sports team. These are accidental realities, but true realities all the same. And political community is just this sort of whole.

Political community is a composite of smaller communities united by action for the political common good. Of course, no political community is faultless; indeed many political communities fail to reach the common good, just like many armies fail to triumph on the field. Nevertheless, such communities exist, and they are specified by their power for such action, not their actual success. For this reason, Aristotle famously says that such communities are perfect, that is, they are complete for the common good. Of course, much, much more could be said on this point, but my aim in this essay is to provide a general overview of the science. Therefore, the subject matter of political philosophy is the kind of community with the power to act for the common good, but this sort of community founded on a specific form of human action.

The Principles of Political Philosophy

Understood in this way, the study of political philosophy belongs to the domain of human action. Politics is not a matter of brute facts or unthinking forces. Politics is not the weather; it cannot be understood in terms of rigid predictions and mechanistic interactions. Politics takes place in the conflicted maelstrom of human passions, intentions, choices, inclinations, customs, memories, et cetera. As such, it can only be understood in the light of the truth about the human person and the nature of human action. Accordingly, the principles of political philosophy are drawn from the psychology of human action. For example, these basic principles apply to the analysis of politics: (1) all human action is motivated by the perception of the something as desirable in one way or another; (2) human action is voluntary and intentional; (3) the rule and measure of human action is the good; (4) the species of action is defined by the matter about which, (5) the passions are among the predominate sources of human action, and so on. Hence, when we inquire into a concrete set of political developments, we should not imagine that these events are the inevitable outcome of a deterministic dialectic. Rather, political institutions, practices, and events emerge from concrete human actions, choices, and passions. In principle, things always could have been otherwise, so it is reasonable to ask, “why this arrangement rather than another?” Similarly, the use of coercive force in politics will need to be understood primarily in terms of those who are being acted upon, that is, the matter about which of an action. It matters a great deal, whether force is used against innocent allies or Islamists terrorists.

In addition, to the remote principles of human action, political philosophy requires principles that are more proximate to the political life: (1) a full definition of the specifically political common good; (2) definitions of war, punishment, public authority, etc.; and (3) a robust account of law, since most political actions are carried out in relation to law in one way or another. Taken together the principles of human action and the proximate principles of politics (law, war, monarchy, and so on) provide a robust framework for disputing the primary topics of political philosophy.

The Disputed Questions of Political Philosophy

The primary questions of political philosophy include the following: (1) whether the common good is primary over the individual good; (2) whether the individual is bound to obey political authority; (3) what is the purpose of political community? Is it positive or merely negative? (4) Whether it is just to sacrifice the individual good of the part for the common good of the whole? (5) What is the best regime? And so on. These, of course, are the really great questions of political philosophy, and interestingly their answers are often assumed without argument. In addition to the great questions of politics, one must also consider questions regarding war, punishment, taxation, custom, education, and similar matters. The serious study of these questions is both challenging and rewarding; indeed it could take up a lifetime of serious work. But what is really important here is to see the place of the questions within the overall architecture of political philosophy.

The topics of political philosophy are not to be determined by mere rhetoric or the empirio-metric measurement of behavior. Such an approaches would fall short of the full scientific rigor proper to this inquiry. Rather the determinations of these topics, must proceed deductively from the proper and remote principles of political philosophy; ultimately, these questions must be tested against the common good of the nation, the architectonic principle in all political matters. Developed in this way, political philosophy shows itself to be a fully scientific enterprise, capable of providing an objective framework for disputing the central questions of politics. Such debates should be shaped by care for the common good of the nation. Of course, real political debates will focus on real, concrete developments such as the threat of a particular war or aggressive global faction.

A Final Thought

One last point is worth stressing. The Aristotelian-Thomist approach to political philosophy is not an idealistic aspiration, and it is not an ideology. Rather it is an enquiry, both descriptive and normative, into political reality, namely, the reality of communities that are capable of taking cooperative action for the common good. This kind of cooperation is among the most powerful forces for good or ill in the world and as such, it is imperative that it be studied, understood, and rightly directed. Nothing less than human flourishing is at stake. Given the failure of modern ideologies, it is time to return to something better and deeper.

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I am in a reflective mood. Such moods are the professional risks of philosophers and writers; reflective moods are even more likely if you also happen tend to towards introverted melancholy. Nevertheless, I do not usually write in this way. Whether by training or inclination (or both) I am not given to self-disclosure, except in the company of my closest friends and family. Indeed, outside of family and friends, I find casual oversharing exhausting if not downright intrusive.

Why do some feel so ready to burden others with their personal drama? Do we not all have enough to bear already? This especially irritating when so much modern drama is based on irrational expectations and excessive sensitivity. Do you really believe that the world revolves around you? It does not.

I am the farthest thing from an atheist, but sometimes I want to echo Camus’s statement that when you look out at the universe in wonder, it does not look back. It is not there for you. Very well, I do not really believe this; the stars are mute but their author is not. Rather the author of all things speaks through the stars. And of course, I do not think we should shut ourselves off from others; we need to live for others and with others. Nevertheless, my whole character rebels against the modern tendency to air our dirty laundry in public. My own disposition in these matters is stoic. In fact, my people — Anglo southern men — are notoriously unreflective (with a few important outliers). Southern men will share their feelings about football, government, and on rare occasions God and the dead. Anything more is just, not what we do.

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I have written on the post-liberal movement in an earlier installment of Logos Letter, but recent events suggest that now is a good time to revisit the matter. In my original analysis of this movement, I provided a mixed evaluation that brought out both its strengths and weaknesses. At this point, I am prepared to concede that post-liberalism as a critical assessment of our current political situation is largely correct.

The liberal project of organizing politics around individual liberty and equality is in decline. Both political leaders and constituents are moving on. And the institutions that most deeply embody the liberal ethos — government agencies, universities, corporations, and journalism — are very unpopular and losing credibility every day. I am inclined to think that this decline is not only real, but right. Capitalism and liberal institutions have not delivered. Liberalism is exhausted. Samuel Huntington was right; Francis Fukuyama was wrong, and it is time to move on. But if so, what exactly are we to move towards. This is the challenge for post-liberal thinking, especially those working from the right.

It is not at all clear, what form of politics will succeed liberalism. Nevertheless, some broad features of the political future seem likely.

Populism Rising

Obviously, populism is in the ascendant throughout the European - American world. As I have written elsewhere this reflects the fact that normal people have lost trust in their leaders and major institutions. On the left, populism takes an anti-capitalist aspect; populism on the right focuses on immigration, “woke” institutions, and elite corruption. This widespread dissatisfaction with the liberal, capitalist consensus is radically reshaping political alignments and ending the unipolar, liberal experiment. Will these movements succeed in making radical changes to modern government? Only time will tell, but one thing is for sure, this wave of populism, like others, will fade. Some may be disappointed to hear this, but it is true.

Populism is a reaction to elite corruption and the alienation of the leadership class from the common people. But the truth is this: almost no one is really against elites and institutions in principle. Every stable society needs leaders and institutions. Eventually leadership, hierarchy, and institutions will return and that is a very good thing. The real question is this: what will take the place of liberalism once the populist wave recedes? For my own part, I believe that the successor to liberalism should address the underlying error modern politics and address the need for institutional and elite reform.

The Errors of Liberalism

It is important to remember that in the sweep of political history, Enlightenment liberalism is completely idiosyncratic. No other society has attempted to shape society on the basis of radical individualism — and rightly so. By “radical individualism,” I mean two things: (1) the denial that man is political by nature and (2) the ordering of society to the individual good rather than the common good. Classical liberalism begins with these two errors and all of the contradictions and inefficiencies inherent in this system flow from these fatal mistakes.

Within the liberal paradigm, man is naturally an individual and chooses to construct politics for his own individualistic purposes; as such, politics is a matter of art rather than nature and lacks a natural purpose and standard. Now the human arts are an important part of human flourishing, but in this context removing politics from the natural order removes it from the natural teleology that guides us towards authentic human flourishing and objective goodness. Indeed, liberalism narrowly restricts the concern of governance to its contractual purposes. In this perspective, politics is predominantly a matter of convention, agreement, and manipulation rather than a process for putting truth and goodness into action.

The second error of liberalism is that it prioritize the individual good over the common good of the political community. I have stated the classical arguments for the priority of the common good many times. In brief, the central argument is this: the individual is compared to the political whole, as an imperfect part to a perfect whole. This so because the political whole is complete for human flourishing whereas the individual is not. It follows that the common good of the whole is preferable to the individual good of the part because the perfect is prior and better than the imperfect. Additional arguments may be added, but the “part – whole argument” is sufficient for the purposes of this essay.

Against the primacy of the common good —, which is the classical Western tradition — liberalism prioritizes the individual goods of liberty, life, and equality. This irrational stance inevitably leads to disunity, inefficiency, and decline. By contrast, the classical prioritization of the common good ennobles man and builds civilization. It concentrates resources into cooperative growth, achievement, and even national greatness.

The Politics of the Common Good

Under our present circumstances, the way forward is the way back. The classical conception of the common good provides a framework for creating a genuinely post-liberal politics that advances human flourishing. Several features of this approach sharply distinguish it from the liberal paradigm. Classical politics is communal rather than individualistic, cooperative rather than competitive, and substantive rather than procedural. I will explain these differences briefly.

The communal character of classical politics is most evident in its commitment to the common good. Generally speaking the common good is distinguished from the individual good as a good shared and enjoyed by many rather than a good enjoyed individually. In principle, there is nothing wrong with the individual good (as along as it is genuinely a good). Nevertheless, it is inferior. Indeed, common goods pervade and ennoble human life even outside of politics: the procreation and education of the child is the common good of the parent; the symphonic beauty of the orchestra; or even the efficient provision of medical goods and services in a hospital. All of these are common goods that make our lives better, and the same is true with the political common good, which consists in cooperative human flourishing. In this perspective, genuine human flourishing is something that we achieve together, through cooperative effort. We do not flourish or decline alone. Rather we rise or fall together.

The classical approach emphasizes cooperation rather than competition. This is so because the common good cannot be accomplished without the coordination of many diverse factors of production. The building of a house or victory on the battlefield requires unity of purpose and following a plan. If the roofers show up before the foundation is laid, time and energy will be wasted. In the political context, cooperation means that the various segments of society will work in harmony with each in order to bring about the common good — concentrating rather than dividing their efforts. Of course, the coordination of diverse parts of society requires a robust administrative power, and much of the awe and respect traditionally afforded to political authority is based on the vital role it plays in advancing the common good.

Finally, classical politics is substantive rather than procedural. The liberal paradigm minimizes the political importance of questions about God, the Good, and the soul. Substantive matters of this sort were to be consigned to the private sphere; the metaphysical question of the good is an individual matter in this perspective. Each individual is free in a liberal regime to pursue his private, subjective version of the good. In the place of substantive philosophical commitments, liberal regimes adopt procedures of due process and fairness. These procedures are important because they secure the liberal priorities of equality and liberty. You may regard someone’s statements to be dangerous errors, but because the regime prioritizes liberty, safeguards are put in place to protect free speech, even when it is erroneous or harmful. Again, the procedural rules of fairness work to protect individual liberty and equality while separating philosophy and religion from politics.

The sort of tidy separation of the Good and politics achieved in liberalism is considered a grave defect from the classical perspective. By contrast, classical politics characterizes the common good in terms of human flourishing — a species specific form of perfection. Framing political life in this way leaves no room for bracketing philosophical questions about the good. Of course, classical political thought leaves plenty of room for particular institutions, historical circumstance, and custom. Nevertheless, with these qualifications in place, the politics of human flourishing necessarily includes a philosophy of the Good — mere procedures are not enough.

Going Forward

In sum, if the postliberal political culture focuses on the common good, we can expect a form of politics that pivots towards cooperation, mutual benefit (and burden), hierarchy, and traditional moral norms. The development of such a political community would mark a sharp departure from the options that are on offer today. At once more regal and united, and more cooperative.

In upcoming installments of Logos Letter, I intend to develop a systematic interpretation and defense of the common good from a Thomist – corporatist point of view (sometimes called Solidarism); this series of essays will include a concrete policy agenda and answers to common objections. In many ways, much of what I intend to argue has been anticipated by the early stages of Catholic Social Teaching, Thomas Aquinas, and associated sources. But even if my sources are older the politics of the common good is not out of date. Indeed, tt is time to give the common good another chance.

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