At first when I read this I thought Bernstein was drawing a comparison that
was anti-discipline.    Martin Buber spoke of it in defining the absolute of
Art in I/Thou.     Buber said that once you chose your product, if you were
going to be an artist about it, you would give up all other products and
processes in pursuit of the perfection of the system that this product
represented.     As I got to the end of the article, Bernstein circled back
and pleasantly surprised me.    REH 

 

Song of Freedom
By J.M. Bernstein

When Janis Joplin achingly sang that "Freedom's just another word for
nothing left to lose," she (or the song's composer, Kris Kristofferson) was
critiquing a widely held ideal of independence: namely, the aspiration
toward maximum liberty from all binding attachments and obligations. Isn't
it obvious, the argument goes, that each promise, and each unbreakable
emotional bond, entails a loss of true freedom, an abrogation of true
independence? Joplin's refutation is simple and elegant: in actuality,
absolute freedom is a picture of perfect emptiness, since if you have
nothing left to lose, you have nothing.

However much the ideal of unencumbered freedom has become associated with
the Declaration of Independence, freedom from binding attachments is no part
of its philosophical underpinnings. In protesting against British tyranny,
the American colonists were not proclaiming an ideal of individual freedom
from government. On the contrary, they were pleading the cause for a vital
conception of political community.

No words are more redolent of this ambition than the concluding sentence of
the Declaration: "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm
reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each
other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor." What stands behind "The
Declaration," providing it with all the support it can possibly have, is the
"mutual pledge" of its signatories. Their pledging to one another everything
- not just their fortunes and honor as individuals, but their very lives -
is the ethical substance of the document. It is how the American "we" steps
onto the world stage.

Too often in the reading of "The Declaration" its background assumptions -
the resounding words of its preamble - are unduly privileged. What we take
to be self-evident, that all men are equal and endowed with unalienable
rights, is intended to be explanatory about why we have systems of
government and what they are meant to do - protect those rights.

However, it is neither the rights themselves nor their self-evidence that
the preamble is emphasizing - they were commonplace notions of the time;
and, even if they were not, a list of self-evident moral truths would still
be idle in practice if no one paid attention to them.

As a posse of philosophers has argued, following the lead of Hannah Arendt's
"On Revolution," the ground note of the preamble is Jefferson's "incongruous
phrase" "We hold," with its implication that the self-evident truths that
follow were somehow lacking in authority despite their divine sanction. It
is that "we" taking those truths as definitive of the human condition that
made them the very "we" that founded this nation. Holding, pledging, and
binding themselves to those truths gave them a political identity, a
political "we," and gave those truths political authority and significance.

Ever since Lincoln revived the Declaration to provide a corrective to the
Constitution, it has been easy to forget what a work of collective
self-making the Declaration is. And while the words of the preamble were
indeed fateful in the overthrow of slavery, the remainder of the document
does not mention individual liberty or individual rights; rather, it is
concerned with who "we" Americans already are as a political community, and
how the British king and Parliament have committed "repeated injuries and
usurpations" that violently attack the integrity of our political community.

At present, we hear much talk of how government is failing, how it, that
"thing," the government is betraying the people, as if there were some
absolute divide between the people and government, as if there were some
notion of absolute freedom that was compromised by its attachments to
political community. There is, finally, no "people" apart from the
government, and no government apart from the people, there is no "I" without
this "we," and no "we" without each "I." When the founders pledged their
lives, fortunes, and sacred honor to each other, thus creating the "we" of
America, they understood that such a pledge was the condition under which
life, liberty, and happiness could be pursued; without that pledge, there
would be nothing left to lose. Janis and the founders are here in profound
agreement.

  _____  

J.M. Bernstein is University Distinguished Professor of Philosophy at the
New School for Social Research and the author of five books. He is now
completing a book entitled "Torture and Dignity."

Excerpt from blog discussion in today's NYTimes. 

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