As I continue my obsessive pondering on the nature and merits of various political systems, it occurs to me that, in theory anyway, autocracy can be characterized as arrogant, at least when compared to democracy. It is arrogant because it proposes that, over the very long run, a series of individuals, or a small group of them (usually men), are capable of sufficient wisdom to govern the affairs of many. The problem with that proposition is that, depending on the time horizon, it flies in the face of the evidence that is human history.
Democracy, at least in theory, is an admission of human weakness. It begins with the proposition that it is unlikely that any individual, or small group of individuals, will ever be capable of the amount of wisdom necessary to govern the affairs of many well. From that proposition flows the corollary that, over time, a system that fails to recognize as much is bound to fail. Therefore, it says, better we admit our weaknesses now, and design around those weaknesses, rather than pretend we can overcome them. Better we recognize that the people who are likely to know best how they ought to be governed are the people who are governed themselves. They will often be wrong, of course. But over time, they are likely to be less wrong than an individual or a small group of individuals.
The problem with this proposition, insofar as one is concerned about the very long run, is that there’s not much evidence for it, because societies that might fairly be called democracies are so young.
Of course, none of this is exactly new. But, as I don’t recall ever seeing the question being described in terms of intellectual arrogance versus humility, I figured I’d put the idea out there and subject it to scrutiny. (The closest I’ve come is this paper, which touches on the same themes, but more in the context of technocracy versus democracy.)
Here I will add bits and pieces of evidence for the relative arrogance/humility of the two systems. First up is an example from journalist Paul Mooney’s reporting in the People’s Republic of China, where the Party-state suppresses civil society out of fear the mere existence of civil society will expose the Party-state’s imperfections, a decidedly arrogant attitude.
‘There are many examples of how the government facilitates the CDPF to interfere in the work of the formal and informal network of disabled civil society organisations and NGOs,’ says one activist, adding the CDPF ‘does almost nothing in terms of protection and defence of the fundamental rights of the disabled.’
‘The government does not like civil society being so active – it’s a political issue,’ says a woman who works with disabled people. ‘If you have NGOs, it says that must mean there is a deficiency in government policies and then the people will not respect the government as much.’