Leo Strauss, Carl Schmitt, and Illiberal China
December 20, 2010, 12:04 pm
In the most recent issue of the New Republic, Columbia humanities Professor Mark Lilla writes about a recent trip to China for lectures and interviews in which he says he discovered that German political theorist Carl Schmitt (1888-1985) and German-born political philosopher Leo Strauss (1889-1973) “are at the center of intellectual debate” in that country. According to Lilla, one Chinese journalist told him that “no one will take you seriously if you have nothing to say about these two men and their ideas.” Lilla makes the plausible case that Schmitt, a Nazi collaborator, is popular among current Chinese intellectuals and scholars because he offers a provocative (but unsatisfactory) critique of the modern liberal state—with its laissez-faire economic and rights-based political underpinnings—that is not Marxist. In so doing, Schmitt provides a theoretical justification for the present Chinese political system in which state control and single-party rule has since Tiananmen Square (1989) largely shoved aside any pretense of China evolving toward a Western-style liberal, democratic state. And, of course, in turn, Schmitt’s writings also provide the Chinese a ready-made map of what supposedly ails contemporary America and Europe.
As for Strauss, Lilla argues that his Chinese readers take from his works, especially those pertaining to Classical Greece, the place of the “gentleman” in political orders: that is, the educated elite who actually govern, especially in non-democratic societies. Again, according to Lilla’s conversations with Chinese students and intellectuals, “the idea of an elite class educated to serve the public good makes perfect sense because they are already rooted in the Chinese political tradition.” In this regard, the role of the gentleman parallels the Confucian notion of “men of character and conscience trained to serve the ruler by making him a better one” and, in turn, making the dictatorship more benign.
Now, I have no way of knowing if what Lilla reports is accurate about Chinese views regarding Schmitt and Strauss. However, my own experience has been somewhat the same but also somewhat different. Only a few years ago, I had dinner in China with some the leading “leftist” intellectuals. These were scholars who found the current Chinese system, particularly its quasi-capitalist economy, as creating too much inequality and social chaos among the population writ large. Now, it turned out several of my interlocutors that evening had read Strauss and even studied with some of his students in universities in the United States. And, at least for that evening, no one was citing Strauss for his rediscovery of the place of the gentleman in the political order. Rather, they were reading Strauss and Schmitt as in line with each other: anti-democratic, anti-liberal and, in the case of Strauss’ work on Plato and Machiavelli, as in favor of thought-infused dictatorship. What China needed was philosopher kings and a prince to guide it into better rule.
Over several beers, I made the case that this was a perverse use of Strauss who, after all, had made clear that the Plato’s presentation of the “philosopher king” in the Republic was comedic in nature and, as such, a reflection of the impossibility—not possibility—of synthesizing true wisdom with politics. As for Machiavelli, he had written not only about The Prince but also The Discourses, where he lays out the grounds for a sustainable modern republic. And, finally, while Strauss knew perfectly well the problems associated with modern liberalism, his decision to come to America in the 1940s and stay was grounded in his appreciation of the fact that the American political order, warts and all, allowed the most philosophic freedom possible. Strauss would have judged contemporary China as little more than tyranny parading as a “peoples’ republic.”
The key point is that, whether it’s Lilla’s account of his interaction with Chinese intellectuals or my own, it appears that the Chinese remain (at least when talking with foreigners) committed to using ideas to reinforce and justify the current Chinese political system. In that regard, they read philosophy but, sadly, are not themselves philosophic.
(By the way, to the best of my knowledge, I have no familial relation with Carl Schmitt. According to the amateur genealogists in my family, the Schmitt who ventured forth to the United States was from Alsace and left there sometime shortly after turning 20 in 1872. Given that Alsace had changed hands from France to Germany after the Franco-Prussian War (1870-71), our Schmitt (we believe) was trying to avoid being conscripted into the German army. Perhaps not the highest minded rationale for heading to these democratic shores but certainly one that is not in accord with the other Schmitt’s fondness for illiberal regimes.)
As for Strauss, Lilla argues that his Chinese readers take from his works, especially those pertaining to Classical Greece, the place of the “gentleman” in political orders: that is, the educated elite who actually govern, especially in non-democratic societies. Again, according to Lilla’s conversations with Chinese students and intellectuals, “the idea of an elite class educated to serve the public good makes perfect sense because they are already rooted in the Chinese political tradition.” In this regard, the role of the gentleman parallels the Confucian notion of “men of character and conscience trained to serve the ruler by making him a better one” and, in turn, making the dictatorship more benign.
Now, I have no way of knowing if what Lilla reports is accurate about Chinese views regarding Schmitt and Strauss. However, my own experience has been somewhat the same but also somewhat different. Only a few years ago, I had dinner in China with some the leading “leftist” intellectuals. These were scholars who found the current Chinese system, particularly its quasi-capitalist economy, as creating too much inequality and social chaos among the population writ large. Now, it turned out several of my interlocutors that evening had read Strauss and even studied with some of his students in universities in the United States. And, at least for that evening, no one was citing Strauss for his rediscovery of the place of the gentleman in the political order. Rather, they were reading Strauss and Schmitt as in line with each other: anti-democratic, anti-liberal and, in the case of Strauss’ work on Plato and Machiavelli, as in favor of thought-infused dictatorship. What China needed was philosopher kings and a prince to guide it into better rule.
Over several beers, I made the case that this was a perverse use of Strauss who, after all, had made clear that the Plato’s presentation of the “philosopher king” in the Republic was comedic in nature and, as such, a reflection of the impossibility—not possibility—of synthesizing true wisdom with politics. As for Machiavelli, he had written not only about The Prince but also The Discourses, where he lays out the grounds for a sustainable modern republic. And, finally, while Strauss knew perfectly well the problems associated with modern liberalism, his decision to come to America in the 1940s and stay was grounded in his appreciation of the fact that the American political order, warts and all, allowed the most philosophic freedom possible. Strauss would have judged contemporary China as little more than tyranny parading as a “peoples’ republic.”
The key point is that, whether it’s Lilla’s account of his interaction with Chinese intellectuals or my own, it appears that the Chinese remain (at least when talking with foreigners) committed to using ideas to reinforce and justify the current Chinese political system. In that regard, they read philosophy but, sadly, are not themselves philosophic.
(By the way, to the best of my knowledge, I have no familial relation with Carl Schmitt. According to the amateur genealogists in my family, the Schmitt who ventured forth to the United States was from Alsace and left there sometime shortly after turning 20 in 1872. Given that Alsace had changed hands from France to Germany after the Franco-Prussian War (1870-71), our Schmitt (we believe) was trying to avoid being conscripted into the German army. Perhaps not the highest minded rationale for heading to these democratic shores but certainly one that is not in accord with the other Schmitt’s fondness for illiberal regimes.)
