Many moralities

Basdeo Panday must not be too pleased that his political philosophy has become public knowledge. It sounds bad for a politician to say that “Politics has its own morality” . But Panday’s assertion is, in fact, perfectly correct. “The man who treats everything as a matter of principle cannot be happy with politics,” wrote social philosopher Bernard Crick in his classic work In Defence of Politics. “The man who says ‘we cannot compromise until we have gained X or Y’, or that ‘A and B must never be given up’, is acting unpolitically, even though he may be playing a part in a political system. Whoever says ‘we must never compromise our ideals’ is dooming himself to frustration or pledging himself to authoritarianism.”

At first blush, this will seem quite unpalatable. But, if we bear history in mind, the truth of Crick’s statement becomes obvious. Of all political regimes, the ones most inefficient and cruel were those where the rulers did not compromise their ideals. This is true of Catholic Europe in the Dark Ages, Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia in the 20th century, and every Islamic country today. And the reason for this, Crick argues, is that authoritarian systems have no politics. “Politics is an activity and so cannot be reduced to a system of precise beliefs or to a set of fixed goals,” he writes. “Political thinking is to be contrasted with ideological thinking. Politics cannot furnish us with an ideology; an ideology means an end to politics, though ideologies may combat each other within a political system — if they are weak and the system is strong.”

Indeed, the very criticisms which have been heaped on Panday actually help prove the truth of his assertion. Take, first of all, the PNM party’s statement on the matter. According to Prime Minister Patrick Manning, the PNM General Council condemns “in the strongest possible terms the political philosophy that politics has its own morality, and that if one wishes to hold on to one’s professional integrity one ought to leave politics.” A trenchant condemnation indeed. But by what moral rule did Manning appoint his wife as Education Minister? By what moral rule did he attempt to transfer Marlene Coudray? By what moral rule did he illegally block the promotion of Devant Maharaj? Not only is it clear that Manning operates by his own political morality but, if we measure by legal judgements brought against each man, Panday so far actually has more integrity than Manning.

It is also worth noting that Manning has cited Machiavelli’s The Prince as the only work of practical politics he knows of. And certain passages in Machiavelli do seem to apply to Manning. “It is well to seem merciful, humane, sincere, religious, and also to be so; but you must have the mind so disposed that when it is needful to be otherwise you may be able to change to the opposite qualities,” Machiavelli advises. Is this not the very definition of political amorality? Even more telling is this extract: “When any evil arises within a republic and has become so great as to fill everyone with apprehension, the more certain remedy by far is to temporise with it, rather than to attempt to extirpate it.” Which might explain Manning’s liaisons with ‘community leaders’ and the Jamaat al Muslimeen’s influence in the URP. (Let us note in passing that Machiavelli’s advice, if Manning did follow it, did not work.)

Panday was also criticised by Roman Catholic priest Clyde Harvey. Fr Harvey declared that it was “nonsensical” to say that each profession had its own morality and that this was a recipe for “societal and human chaos.” The goodly Father then went on to make a truly nonsensical statement of his own. “The Ten Commandments are not the arbitrary injunction of a self-centred divine being, drunk with his or her own power. They are really common sense guidelines without which no human community is possible.” Uh-huh. That’s why the first four commandments are about worshipping and obeying Yahweh. The prohibition against murder is sixth. This order signals a basic truth about all religions: that they embody what the late political philosopher John Rawls called a “comprehensive doctrine” — ie one that claims to apply to all subjects and to cover all values.

Such doctrines, Rawls argued, are politically unfeasible. In his book Justice as Fairness, he suggests that “given the fact of reasonable pluralism, a well-ordered society in which all its citizens accept the same comprehensive doctrine is impossible.” This is why the Catholic Church, and religion generally, is a barrier to social progress. The fact is, Fr Harvey’s Church also has its own morality. If it didn’t, then priests who had molested children would not have been protected, and their protector Cardinal Law would not have been given a cushy job in the Vatican, and Fr Harvey would have dissociated himself from the institution he serves. But Fr. Harvey can continue to be a priest only if he applies the very standard of morality he criticised Panday for: that the good of the institution supersedes the good of the individual.

All this is not to say that politics has no morality (although I suspect in time people will come to believe that this is what Panday said). Crick says, “Political morality does not contradict any belief in ideal conduct; it merely sets the stage on which people can, if they wish, argue such truths without degrading those truths into instruments of governmental coercion. Political morality is simply that level of moral life (if there are other levels) which pursues a logic of consequences in the world as it is. To act morally in politics is to consider the results of one’s actions.” If Panday is to be criticised, then, it should not be for his statement. It should be for whether he has weighed the consequences of his actions. By that criteria, I think all our political leaders, from Williams to Capildeo to Robinson to Panday to Manning, have fallen extremely short. E-mail: kbaldeosingh@hotmail.com  Website: www.caribscape.com/baldeosingh