When
Ludwig von Mises was still an officer in the Austro-Hungarian army
he earned several decorations, but his true title to nobility was
a nickname which stuck to him from an anonymous source: they called
him "the last knight of liberalism" for even in the dark
years of the Great War, he had embarked on a quest to save the world
of peace and property. Modern and post-modern thinkers, beginning
with Cervantes, seem to have arrived at a consensus that knighthood
in a military sense is a rather silly notion at best, but of course
Mises was being honored for his services to liberalism not as a
chevalier d’epee, but as a literary champion of public thought
and policy, though the
biography bearing Mises’ unauthorized title by Jörg Guido Hülsmann,1
shows that he was not so bad at soldiering either. It would appear
that soldiers of the shooting variety, like the poor, shall always
be with us, and contrary to the expectations of Cervantes even the
private soldier is making a determined, though morally dubious comeback.
What
had not made a comeback, until very recently, was a genuine champion
of liberty, a political peer who could face down the pretenders
and would-be-kings of the illiberal order, beating them at their
own game. To everybody’s astonishment such a person has actually
emerged, in the humble and rather unknightly form of the Congressman
from Lake Jackson, Texas, Dr. Ron Paul. To call the Texas doctor
a knight might rightly be considered faint, indeed faintly ridiculous,
praise, for a man who has vowed to restore the constitution, including
all its republican (lower case) scruples on titles of rank and nobility.
After all, when and if the good doctor takes up residence at 1600
Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, we might expect one of his first acts to
be a general recall of those so-called Medals of Freedom which presidents
since Truman have arbitrarily bestowed on the good, the bad, and
the toadies. Or perhaps not, since with so many government-sponsored
tragedies crying out for immediate abolition, the comic opera aspect
of the state might be safely left to wither from disuse and ridicule.
Yet,
when his detractors call Ron Paul’s campaign "quixotic,"
they are in fact dubbing him a knight by way of backhanded compliment.
Implicit in this ennoblement is the idea of futility, the noble
failure of swords against gunpowder, the man against the machine.
It is part and parcel of that modern consensual thinking which is
so hard to break away from, and which even the most optimistic Paulistas
fall prey to: do we dare trust one man to be a vehicle of our dreams…lest
our dreams turn out to be dreams and nothing more? But of course
we are taking our chances here not with a mounted warrior engaged
in a test of strength, but with a figurative battle for the mind
of America. In the case of this election we might better ask ourselves,
is it possible for a good idea to be defeated by a bad idea? The
answer, unfortunately, is a resounding yes, as the voices of integrity,
ingenuity, and expert opinion are commonly shouted down from the
stage of policy before they can be properly articulated.
That’s
why it’s essential to have a champion, someone who won’t back down
in the face of madness and monsters. Unfortunately, this time around,
the monsters are quite real, and we find ourselves facing something
more akin to the nightmare world of Beowulf than the windmills of
sunny La Mancha. And on top of that, what could be more dangerous
than when freedom’s back is to the wall, and hoards of well-intended
bezerkers start crawling out of the woodwork to save her with wild
swings of their battle-axes. Indeed, the meat-axe of political diatribe
is a perfect illustration in our times of how a knight is more than
an ordinary warrior, differing from the latter by adopting the practice
of chivalry, a mysterious quality which has been hunted to near
extinction by the intellectual progeny of Cervantes.
So
we have to ask ourselves: what is this thing called "chivalry"?
Actually, today few know and still fewer care, most considering
it to be long out of fashion, and that all for the better. One of
the few who disagreed was writer and teacher Richard Weaver (19101963),
who saw chivalry as a kind of virtue, or quality of character. Far
from being antiquated, chauvinistic or elitist, for Weaver chivalry
was the traditional virtue ancestral to the watered-down "tolerance"
of contemporary political correctness. Thus in Ideas
Have Consequences he writes,
It is a matter
of everyday perception that people of cultivation and intellectual
perceptiveness are quickest to admit a law of rightness in ways
of living different from their own; they have mastered the principle
that being has a right qua being. Knowledge disciplines egoism
so that one credits the reality of other selves. The virtue of
the splendid tradition of chivalry was that it took formal cognizance
of the right to existence, not only of inferiors but of enemies.
The modern formula of unconditional surrender first against
nature and then against peoples impiously puts man in the
place of God by usurping unlimited right to dispose of the lives
of others.2
So
chivalry, at least according to Weaver, is tolerance without the
debilitating relativism of its contemporary substitutes. This has
a double application in contemporary political practice, for the
knight of liberalism must first gather together the companions of
freedom and then venture out in combat with the knights of illiberalism.
First with regard to the knight’s companions, it should be noted
that they include both radical Don Quixotes and the traditionalist
Sancho Panzas. In the first category would be those who think the
championing of freedom is a duty bound unto them without considerations
of reward, and that the non-aggression axiom, once grasped by correct
reasoning, should swiftly attain universal assent. On the whole,
it seems disgraceful to them that the entire world did not embrace
anarchism after its initial proclamation in the works of Herbert
Spencer (18201903). To these hardies, values other than freedom
are uninteresting, and a "value voter" a cowardly compromiser.
But
the truly chivalrous knight would eschew these quixotic pretensions,
knowing that only the first, easy, victories of freedom could be
won among these odd individuals whose love of liberty renders them
indifferent to hot and cold, day and night…or at least those who
feign such indifference. Since the vast majority of the human race
lies outside this small band of would-be heroes, a true knight would
see that the scorn of the quixotic minority was unjust. In the knight’s
wisdom, the common sense of the "value voter" would in
fact be closer to the truth, namely that the conduct of life entails
preferences and the better must be chosen over the worse, even if
further reflection sometimes reveals what had once been considered
better to be a mere prejudice. While its attachment to preferences
speaks well for the majority, the majority can obstruct freedom
if it fails to distinguish chivalry from indifference.
This
is the narrow bridge of freedom before which many an honest, but
fearful, donkey of the world digs in his or her hoofs. For those
who cherish the tried and true (that is, the Sancho Panzas who make
up the better part of the world) the knight of liberalism will seem
like either an apostle of indifference or one possessed by a mania
for toleration. In fact nothing could be further from the case,
for chivalry distains cultural and moral relativism. The chivalrous
attitude is that other people have the right to be wrong, not that
there is no right or wrong.
With
that in mind, Dr. Paul appears to be off to a good start on his
quest to restore freedom. After all, he seems to have those qualities
Weaver would demand in a chivalrous knight. The "knowledge
disciplining egoism" and leading to the "crediting the
existence of others" seems to be his hallmark…and even in such
provocatively incredible company as his fellow Republican contenders
the good doctor has managed to stay on message and refused to be
led into the labyrinth of ad hominim argumentation. Should he ever
become president we could expect that he would not enforce his values
on anyone but would recuse himself from the culture wars, returning
debate on such matters to those state and local forums where they
rightfully belong. That’s respect for the autonomy of others…not
a lack of conviction.
With the companions gathered, we come to the second application
of the principle of chivalry, the combat, either military or political,
against the knights of illiberalism. To be sure, we live amidst
a world of barbarous conflict, one in which blackhearted mercenaries
in the employ of the American state have been unleashed on helpless
populations abroad. This is an evil so manifest that it calls for
little moral reflection, but it does call into question the smug
assumptions of progress which look back at the "age of chivalry"
with condescension.
However, Weaver's concept of chivalry as "respect for the existence
of others, enemies as well as friends" is not a direct contribution
to just war theory, as important as that might be. Rather it was
integral to his theory of political rhetoric. According to Weaver,
the corruption of public rhetoric is the ultimate source of all
other evils, since the buck always, or at least was once alleged
to, stop in the halls of government. It is easy to visualize the
misery created by modern warfare, terrorism, and aerial bombardment,
but they are just the end results of political decisions, which
in turn are the outcome of mental attitudes. We can see a dismembered
corpse, but we don’t grasp that it results from the same mind set
which prompted Congress to divide Iraq, like Gaul, into three parts.
The annihilation of the other which chivalry stands opposed to is
primarily a spiritual, not a physical, negation, although the first
readily becomes a cause of the second. Indeed, human life is sacred,
but there are just wars and police actions, and to my knowledge
Dr. Paul is not a pacifist. Rather he opposes that sickness of American
political rhetoric which objectifies the world’s peoples and communities,
and the assumption that they are justly subject to the machinations
of our own political process. When Washington politicians speak
unilaterally, as if they are agents and the rest of the world patients
of their actions, they are destroying the world in thought, before
a single bullet is fired. The left dimly grasps that something is
wrong here, and fails to come up with any better solution than a
universal homogenization of values, grasping hands and singing kumbaya.
Needless to say this stupidity only further empowers the unilateralists.
All these evocations are far from the chivalrous ideal and noble
rhetoric of the Paul candidacy. Yes, Dr. Paul wishes the peoples
of the world be free, enlightened, and prosperous, but he also knows
that it is not his business to make them so. Rather, to be content
in one’s possessions, even if that includes the lonely possession
of truth, and not to annihilate the other, either in thought or
deed, that is the essence of chivalry. This explains not only why
it is hard to be a so-called "knight of liberalism," but
why the phrase is, ultimately, a pleonasm.
Mark
Sunwall [send him email]
studied Austrian economics at George Mason University and now teaches
Rhetoric and Social Science at the University of Hyogo. He is an
Adjunct Scholar of the Ludwig von
Mises Institute.