BOURGEOIS LIBERTY AND THE POLITICS OF FEAR This page intentionally left blank Bourgeois Liberty and the Politics of Fear From Absolutism to Neo-Conservatism MARC MULHOLLAND 1 3 Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Marc Mulholland 2012 Th e moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2012 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Data available ISBN 978–0–19–965357–7 Printed in Great Britain by MPG Books Group, Bodmin and King’s Lynn Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work. To Victoria Lill This page intentionally left blank Preface In 1842 a German poet living in Paris, Heinrich Heine, wrote that the politics of the bourgeoisie were ‘motivated by fear’. When terrifi ed of an unleashed working class, he argued, the middle classes abandoned their historical commitment to constitutional liberty. Th is was an early statement of an argument that went on to have a long, contested life. ‘Bourgeois liberty’ has a dual meaning: it is freedom for a particular class constituency to pursue its lifestyle and seek prosperity in a com- mercial environment. It is also an ideal: rights of speech, association, and petition required by the bourgeoisie but extending to all within society. But was the univer- sal ideal of ‘bourgeois liberty’ undermined by the threat of ‘proletarian democracy’? Bourgeois fear of the working class has been held responsible for betrayal of the pan-European revolutions of 1848, for the illiberal forms of unifi cation in Italy and Germany, for liberal failure of nerve before Bolshevism in Russia in 1917, for the turn to interwar fascism, and for Western maintenance of military dictator- ships during the Cold War. And then, as the traditional working class declined, did the middle classes recover their nerve? At stake in these debates were fundamental questions of liberty and social order, revolution, and counter-revolution. Th e argu- ment at core gravitated around that most emotive of concepts: betrayal. Either the comfortable middle class betrayed workers, peasants, the poor, and liberty by siding with authoritarian repression; or ideological fanatics betrayed the people’s trust and desire for civil and political liberties by instituting totalitarian collectiv- ism. Decisions were forced by agitation, conspiracy, war, and repression. Th e fol- lowing chapters examine this narrative. Historical works emphasizing constitutionalism, class, and political meta-narrative are hardly fashionable these days. Defence for my approach inheres, I hope, in the account I give. It is worth saying something about terminology, however, for those who may fi nd my usage quaint. ‘Bourgeois’ and ‘bourgeoisie’ are roughly equiva- lent to the historical sense of ‘middle class’ as used in Britain. But, of late, ‘middle class’ has come to designate that 25 per cent of the population on either side of median income, which has quite diff erent connotations. In the United States, for example, ‘middle class’ includes most unionized workers. So although I use the terms interchangeably, I prefer ‘bourgeois’ as more precise. ‘Proletarian’ is roughly equivalent to ‘worker’—but peasants, artisans, and professionals work too. By my designation, I wish to indicate a particular class condition, that of the unskilled or semi-skilled wage earner, or the worker possessed of skills so widely available on the labour market as to attract no marked salary premium from employers. In my usage, the proletarian need not work in a smoke-belching factory. Both terms, bourgeois and proletarian, have been the default common usage for much of my period across most of the countries I survey. Th ey are therefore my default terms. I often refer to ‘bourgeois liberalism’ rather than simply ‘liberalism’ to avoid viii Preface confusion that might arise from current American usage that folds the term ‘lib- eral’ into the socially egalitarian ‘left’. Th is is an avowedly ‘constructed’ history, in that it pursues a theme within an analytical narrative. Th ough I deal with a long period and wide geographical span, my coverage of events is selective, and chosen on the basis of relevance to the over- all argument. Nor do I attempt a synthesis or critique of scholarly interpretations. Authorities are employed as ‘expert witnesses’ for the case I present. Th ey would no doubt demur from much they might fi nd herein. I have not written this book as a history of political thought, though that features, nor as an exercise in comparative or thematic political science. Still less have I written this book as an exercise in polemic or political advocacy. I have employed my particular models because I fi nd them useful and interesting; they do not imply moral judgements one way or an- other. I am taking an argument and using it to make one kind of sense of a stretch of modern history. I certainly do not mean to imply that this approach is more valid than ones which, say, might take as their focus gender, nationality, or religion. Th e model of ‘bourgeois liberty’, in its various forms, has had a profound impact, both materially and intellectually, during the period under review. It is enough, I hope, to demonstrate and illustrate this. * * * I fi rst considered themes relevant to this book many years ago in the meeting rooms of Ballymena and Belfast. Few who were present at these gatherings, perhaps, would entirely agree with the answers here off ered, but I am grateful that the questions were posed. A fi rst presentation of my organizing argument was given to the John Simopolous dinner, for tutors and students, at my college of St Catherine’s. John’s generous response to this squib set me on the road to writing a full volume, which took place between full teaching terms. It would not have been the same without the stimulus of amazing students; I’m hugely grateful to them all. My thanks to Gervase Rosser, who showed me the intellectual advantage that comes with the privilege of teaching, marking, and examining. All my other college colleagues have been unfailingly supportive; Tom Pickles, J. C. Smith, Bart van Es, and Jon Healey went beyond the call of collegiality in talking through my ruminations. Usually, I am a historian of Ireland. My colleagues in the fi eld responded to the project here presented with generous enthusiasm. Discussions with Richard Bourke, Roy Foster, Matt Kelly, Ian McBride, Alan O’Day, and Senia Pašeta amongst others have contributed materially to the fi nal product. Of scholars out- side the fi eld of Ireland, the knowledge and historical sense of Chris Brooke, Adrian Gregory, and Barbara Warnock have been reliable inspirations. Michael Fisher, Ultán Gillen, and Richard Michaelis all very generously con- sented to read parts of the manuscript. Special mention must go to Tim Wilson who heroically read a draft of the entire book in double-quick time. Comments by all have been eminently wise, and saved me from many howlers. I should also like to record my gratitude to my editors at Oxford University Press, Christopher Wheeler and Stephanie Ireland, who adroitly guided me through the process of Preface ix submission, and to Richard Mason, my copy-editor, and Nicola Sangster, my proof reader, who with speed and effi ciency rescued me from many obscurities and sole- cisms. OUP’s three anonymous readers made excellent suggestions that I have been very happy to act upon. Naturally only I am responsible for any errors of fact and judgement remaining. Friends have proven remarkably tolerant of my moiderings on ‘the book’: they were always rocks of support. Particular thanks to Rachel Buxton, David Fowler, Gerald Lang, Catrin Lowe, Rónán McDonald, Julian McGale, Icarus Panchaud, Jessica Th omas, James Th ompson, and Laura Warnock. As ever, my siblings— Kathleen, Ciarán, Pádraig, Deidre, Niall, Ita, Áine, and Breandan—provided un- stinting familial solidarity. Eilís and Oisín Mulholland, and their mother Lois, keep me grounded with family on this island. My parents, Ita and Dominic, have been ever loving, inspirational, and wise. I owe everything to them. My partner, Victoria Lill, has lived with this project as much as I have. Her ready interest, support, and perceptiveness consistently raised my game, and she has made a vital contribution to the fi nished work. Even more importantly, Victoria has been my best friend and true love for over a decade. I dedicate this book to her.