Preface and Acknowledgments
These are the reflections of a professor who has had a lengthy career researching and teaching “the politics of others” – known in the profession as “comparative politics.” Always being on the outside looking in has its
advantages – and disadvantages. It should make one less susceptible to presuming that the rules and practices of one’s own polity are normal and should provide the standard for observing and evaluating the politics of others. It also, however, means that the necessarily short exposure to other people’s politics – and it gets shorter and shorter as one gets older –
deprives the researcher of the depth of observation needed to capture the subtleties and secrets of their behavior. Of course, one can always take refuge in statistical manipulations of data that can be gathered at home without having to go to some exotic locale. My experience has suggested that there is no substitute for living among and talking with the subjects of one’s analysis – and preferably in their own language.
This lengthy essay makes no claim to being scientific. It contains no
disprovable hypotheses, no original collection of data, no search for
patterns of association and certainly no conclusive inferences about
causality. It is self-consciously “pre-scientific.” Before one can do any
science, but especially any social science, one must identify and label
what it is that one is trying to understand or explain. Without the ‘right’
words (and the right theory surrounding them), the researcher could not
even begin his or her task, much less gather the relevant data. In the case
of political (or any social) research, “Que Dire?” comes before “Que
Faire?” This indispensable first stage is called “conceptualization” in
academic jargon. It is a sort of mapping process in which the researcher
tries to specify the goal of his or her trip, some of the landmarks that he or
she is likely to encounter en route, and the boundaries that circumscribe
the effort.
For those readers who are in the business of explaining politics to
others, I hope you will find this effort useful when generating explicit
hypotheses that can be tested and, if verified, allow you to make
reasonable inferences about why specific forms of power are exercised and what their effects are likely to be.
The essay also contains only a few novelties. Most of its
assumptions and concepts have been borrowed from my forerunners in
what has been a very lengthy effort to understand the reality of politics. I
am convinced that almost everything that is meaningful about politics has
already been said – somewhere by someone and often a long time ago. It
is just a matter of finding it and assembling it in a novel manner. This is what I have tried to do here.
To those who are long or recently gone, I can only apologize for not
having cited their eternally valid work. Doing so would have made this
essay excessively academic – and much too long. For those who are still
around – in many cases, my former students and colleagues at Chicago,
Stanford and the European University Institute – I am sure that they will
recognize their respective contributions and hope that they will accept my
gratitude for them. I do, however, want to formally acknowledge the
multiple contributions of my wife, colleague and muse, Terry Lynn Karl.
Without her support (and not infrequent disagreements), none of this would
have been possible. Or, if possible, it would have been decidedly inferior.
I have tried to write this essay without excessive professional jargon.
Like all social scientists, political scientists have developed a vocabulary of
their own. As we shall see, this poses a serious problem of
communication since some of their concepts are identical to those used by
the political agents they are studying, but can have a different meaning.
Other concepts are unique to their discipline. These can seem esoteric
and confusing to the unspecialized reader. In an effort to avoid this, I have
made frequent (perhaps excessive) use of boldness to indicate key
concepts and tried to convey (admittedly only briefly) their meanings.2
The Subject Matter
Politics is a (if not the) quintessential human activity.3
It brings to
bear on the relations between persons many of the qualities that are
unique to the human species. All of those involved in politics are agents
of some kind or another. Their actions are not completely predetermined
by the physical or social context in which they find themselves, and they
are intrinsically “restless” with regard to that environment.4
Some are
dissatisfied with their existing situation and, hence, willing to try to change
it. In so doing, they are very likely to provoke a response from those who
are not so dissatisfied. The latter will react to defend the status quo and,
therefore, also become agents. To do so, both types have to be able to
imagine future conditions and the alternative actions that might improve or
threaten the quality of that environment and their existence within it.
If these generic characteristics of agents are true, politics as a human
behavior is likely to be in almost permanent violation of two of the
foundational principles of the physical sciences: the First and Second Laws
of Thermodynamics: (1) The agents involved will not normally be able to
contain their actions and reactions within a closed homeostatic system
and, hence, will be continuously subjected to exogenously induced
changes in their relative power resources to which they will have to
respond by changing their behaviour or preferences; (2) Even if they do
succeed in isolating, controlling and/or satisfying these disturbing outside
influences and, therefore, in promoting entropy in their institutions, they will
never be completely successful in sustaining an equilibrium between
conflicting and competing forces. Proponents of change may tire of “the
costs of politics” and be tempted to withdraw from the struggle; their
opponents may welcome the stability of the institutions and policies that
brought them to power and protect their resources, but this does not to
prevent even conservatives from inventing new motives for being
dissatisfied, not to mention the perpetual presence in politics of
progressives who are by definition dissatisfied with the magnitude or
distribution of results. In other words, politics is an intrinsically dynamic
and imbalanced process. The quest for stability has been an eternal
component of the practice of politics (not to mention, objective of
conservatives), but even when it seems to prevail, it is likely to be either
illusory or momentary. Unlike other animals, humans are condemned to
be repeatedly dissatisfied with their individual and collective
accomplishments. There is no finite status or outcome that can induce
them to remain inactive.
And, if this were not enough, political agents to be effective have to
communicate their complex thoughts to other human beings through a
shared spoken and (usually) written language – which is itself a perpetual
source of misunderstanding and potential conflict. In order to formulate
and communicate the as yet unrealized conditions they desire to satisfy,
they must possess sufficient empathy with other human beings as to be
able to anticipate their responses and to seek their approval – and they
often make miscalculations in both regards. Since these agents can rarely
achieve their goals alone, they must also be capable of committing
themselves to contracting with others and trustful enough that their
interlocutors will honor that contract – and continue to do so under
changing conditions. On the other side of the equation, one must sadly
admit that human political agents are also collectively capable of
committing acts of malice, cruelty, vengeance and violence on a scale that
no other primate seems capable of – and this generates memories of past
treatment that persist and can impede present agreement – even when the
conditions for a mutually satisfactory outcome and,, hence, some degree
of institutional stability do objectively exist..
This is not to say that all aspects of politics are unique to Homo
Sapiens. Most primates are capable of physically coercing others of their
species to comply with their demands and some of them seem also to
have the capacity to command obedience without using force. While
elaborate language seems to be beyond their comprehension, they can
“read” the meanings of gestures and sounds and some species apparently
can form mutually beneficial alliances that may be based on implicit
contracts.
The Exercise of Power
What we think of as politics rests on the exercise (or the threat of the
exercise) of power and of resistance to it. What is unique to human
beings is their capacity to “domesticate” this activity by inserting rules and
practices that serve to channel the actions and reactions of agents
according to mutually agreed upon rules and/or reliably applied practices.5
These regulated exchanges, negotiations, deliberations and decision-
making allow conflicts to be resolved pacifically and, thereby, preclude the
resort to violence that would otherwise be needed to resolve the
differences in resources and preferences that give rise to political activity in
the first place. Needless to say, the effort is not always successful, hence,
the long list of atrocities just mentioned above.6
Power in turn rests on the uneven distribution of resources and
returns among human beings living within a given political unit. Some of
these asymmetries may be “natural” given the different endowments that
human beings receive upon birth, but most will be “social” and rooted in
subsequent accomplishments (or non-accomplishments) during their
respective life-cycles – along with the unequal inheritance of previously
established social, economic and political privileges. Agents seeking to
change the status quo – “progressives” in the generic sense, whether
individuals or organizations – will be tempted to exploit asymmetries when
they try to compel others to conform to their preferences, either by
threatening to deprive them of resources or by promising to reward them
with greater resources. The defenders of the status quo – conservatives --
will resist these efforts and will usually have an intrinsic advantage due
precisely to their incumbency. They will try to control the agenda of public
choice, influence the course of decision-making, suppress the demands for
change and/or alter the preferences of the challengers and their allies.
The “normal” outcome of these challenges and conflicts should be a
reaffirmation (or, in many cases, a revision) of the status quo ante –
provided they are contained within a pre-established, mutually acceptable
set of rules and that the incumbents have come to power by observing
those rules.
Which is not to say that there are not many “abnormal” outcomes in
politics. As we have just argued, the logic of action-reaction that underlies
the exercise of power is not “thermo-dynamic.” The interaction may be
reciprocal, but the conflicting agents are rarely equal in their power or
effect; the conflicts may be more oblique than strictly opposite; and the
eventual outcome may not produce a stable equilibrium, just a temporary
arrangement. Institutions are not always self-enforcing and require
periodic injections of energy from other sources in order to survive. In
other words, incumbents do not always prevail. Not only may the decision
rules and the means for coming to power be ambiguous in specific
instances, but also the prior conditions presumed by these rules may have
changed in ways that incumbents have not discerned or responded to
adequately. Their performance once in office may have alienated their
supporters and/or mobilized those previously indifferent to participate.
Most importantly, the rules themselves may only embody a temporary
compromise that is vulnerable to contestation. Only when these clusters of
rules have become institutions that are valued for themselves by most
agents can incumbents rest assured that they are most likely to prevail. In
other words, they are protected in power for some foreseeable period by
the legitimacy of the institutions they govern, especially when these
institutions are clustered together into a coherent regime.
This is one reason why power has proven so elusive to observe and
difficult to measure. It is most effective when those who have it do not
have to exercise or even display it, i.e. when their power is so
overwhelming that it intimidates any response by subordinates and, even
more so, when it is accepted by subordinates as legitimate. Nevertheless,
the entropy embedded in such relations is not likely to endure when
threatened by exogenous transformations in the power resources of
conflicting agents or by the endogenous emergence of new expectations
and preferences among them,
The Micro-Foundations
Every systematic study – whether of physical or human subjects –
rests on micro-foundations. These are the basic assumptions shared by
its practitioners. They shape the way in which topics are identified and
transformed into projects worthy of teaching or researching. Normally,
they are invisible – as befits most foundations – and are usually accepted
implicitly and without controversy. However, the visible structures of a
science – its concepts, hypotheses, methods, data, associations and
inferences – are only as valid as these foundations. And the study of
politics is no exception to this maxim, even if it is exceptional in the extent
to which its micro-foundations have been and still are visible and subject to
dispute.
Let us begin with the venerable advice of Aristotle, “It is the mark of
an educated man to look for precision in each class of things just so far as
the nature of the subject admits.” Therefore, those who would study
politics should be resting their research on a set of assumptions that are as
“precise” as their subject matter is distinctive. Their problem begins with
the intrinsic “imprecision” of that subject matter. 8
To start with there are two quite different “classes of things” that
students of politics have historically tried to explain. In this, I am following
the advice of Niccolò Machiavelli whose micro-(or, better, meso–
foundations since they rest on a number of prior micro-assumptions)
consisted of a mixture of three elements: (1) necessità or the imperative of
taking costly and consequential decisions under conditions of scarcity of
resources, threat of violence and/or ambition of persons; (2) virtù or the
capacity of rulers to understand the political context and to exploit it in
order to create order and security; and (3) fortuna or the ever-present
likelihood of unforeseen events and irresistible processes. When the later
becomes the dominant element, the very nature of politics is different.
Without prudent “men, when times are quiet, (to) provide them with dikes
and dams,” the necessary exercise of power leads to unexpected (and
usually unwanted) results. Since Machiavelli found himself in “a country
without dams and without dikes,” he had to “enter upon a new way, as yet
trodden by anyone else,” i.e. to invent a new science of politics. In normal
times Machiavelli implied, politics takes place within established units, i.e.
states, and between established institutions, i.e. within a regime, that
circumscribe the options of actors and make their behaviours more
predictable and peaceful.
9
Until recently, this line of demarcation between Type One (“normal”)
and Type Two (“abnormal”) politics was supposed to run between
domestic politics and international relations and was used to justify their
separate status as sub-disciplines within politology (or, if you insist,
political science). The latter was potentially anarchic, with no higher
authority or predictably binding rules above its (allegedly) unitary and
sovereign actors – the nation-states – that were expected to do whatever
was necessary to further their particular interests and to defend
themselves from predation by others. The former took place within a
political space pre-defined by formal (if not always constitutional) rules and
informal norms, ordered by a supreme (and sometimes legitimate)
authority over a specific territory in a social setting that possessed a
distinctive common identity.
This distinction within the discipline of politology is no longer valid.
International (or, better, interstate) relations have become clogged with a
myriad of conventions, treaties, “regimes,” inter- and non-governmental
organizations and even (especially in the case of Europe) regional supra-
national governments and courts. Sovereignty has become more and
more of a formality; nationality is less and less exclusive. Meanwhile, the
number of putatively sovereign and national states has proliferated and
many of them have little or none of the orderly qualities described above.
The list of outright “failed states” is getting longer and there is a growing
waiting list of “defective ones.” Sometime (I suspect in the late 1970s or
early 1980s), the line was crossed and it became statistically more likely
that the resident of a given country would be killed in a civil war by one of
his or her co-nationals than in an international war by foreigners.
The fact that the empirical loci of these two generic types of politics –
the normal and the abnormal – has shifted does not invalidate the
difference in terms of micro-foundations. Both are still very much present
in our world and they definitely still require contrasting, not to say
antithetic, sets of basic assumptions and concepts.
What, then, are the generic components of a solid and well-balanced
micro-foundation for the study of politics? These should be a priori
assumptions that are more or less isomorphic with the situations involving
power that are usually faced by politicians – whether of Type One or Type
Two – and presumably justifiable with regard to the publics involved.
Basing one’s science upon conditions that do not exist or values that
cannot be satisfied may be useful for constructing formal models or for
exhorting people to change their behaviour, but both are, at best, of
marginal utility as foundations for building a ‘realistic’ science of politics.
The indispensable elements of such a foundation are discussed
below. They begin an assertion of the critical importance of concepts
(How should we think, talk or write about politics?). This will be
immediately preceded by a discussion of the most important and contested
of all concepts, namely, power (What is it?) There follows a lengthy
disquisition about agents, (Who exercises it?). Next come discussions of
cleavages (What shapes their activity?), motives (Why do they do it?),
processes (Through what means do they do it?), mechanisms (How do
they do it?), units (Where do they do it?), regimes (With whom do they do
it?) and, finally, consequences (Who benefits or suffers from their doing
it?)
One item will be conspicuously absent, namely, the telos of politics
(Where is it going?). It used to be routinely assumed that politics was
heading in a predictable (and usually benevolent) direction – that the entire
sub-structure of power and authority was moving somewhere over time,
however erratically and unevenly, across different units. The Will of God,
the power of human rationality, natural selection by historical evolution, or
the greater normative appeal of liberal democracy have been at various
times candidates for explaining why better values and institutions would
eventually win out. More recently, we have been told that we have
fortunately reached “the End of Politics” thanks to the spread of more and
more liberal democracies. None of these seems sufficiently plausible to
me to waste time including them among the micro-foundations of political
research. As we shall see, there is plenty of movement in the
contemporary world of politics, but it is not headed in a pre-destined
direction – least of all, a benevolent one.
The exploration I have undertaken below is a personal one, not a
doctrinal affirmation valid for everyone who wishes to study politics. Each
of these elements has involved and continues to involve controversial
choices. Those made by any one student will be a complex function of the
fads and fashions present in the discipline, his or her theoretical
predisposition and the nature of his or her research topic – perhaps
seasoned with some of his or her own normative preferences. Whatever
these choices are and however implicit they may often be, they cannot be
avoided when conducting research on any political topic.
The Concepts
rationality,” “limited or asymmetric information,” “intransitive preferences,”
“transaction costs,” and “logics of appropriateness or habit,” this generic
conception of the role of agents accords not only with currently fashionable
theories of rational choice, but reflects the much deeper ideological
commitment of modern social and political thought to liberal individualism
and social progress. Shifting to a different micro-foundation would seem to
many participants and observers to be equivalent to declaring that politics
is a ‘passionate’ and not a ‘rational’ activity which would be rooted in raw
emotion, blind faith, mindless imitation, instinctual tradition, collective
stupidity and/or random events - and, hence, incapable of collectively
improving the world that we live it.
I have had two reasons in my research for calling this time-worn
foundation into question. The first has to do with the sheer complexity and
contingency that surrounds the contemporary individual. He or she cannot
possibly know what are the ‘real’ (or, even, all of the available) alternatives
and, even less, what all of their eventual consequences will be. For him or
her to even approximate these search conditions in the real world would
require so much time and resources that little would be left to subsequently
pursue his or her interests – and someone capable of short-cutting the
whole process by simply accepting the solutions proposed by pre-existing
institutions or ideologies would likely prevail. In short, it would be irrational
from a political perspective to act rationally in this fashion!
Moreover, this individual is very likely to discover upon such a
complicated and time-consuming reflection that he or she has many
conflicting interests, passions or even convictions – especially over
different time horizons – and, hence, cannot possibly pursue them
consistently according to rank and intensity.
And, if those reasons were not enough, he or she is typically acting
within a multi-layered and poly-centric “nested” set of institutions – some
public and some private – all potentially capable of making binding
collective decisions. Acting as a rational individual, he or she would have,
not only to discover which of these institutions is relevant, but also, in the
likely event that several are involved, to spread and adjust his or her
calculations accordingly.
My research on interest politics has led me to conclude that agent
preferences are not fixed, but contingent upon which policies are proposed
and by whom and upon which “others” they are observing. In other words,
preferences will probably change during the course of political exchange
as it moves across the various layers and centers of domestic power and
as agents react to the efforts and experiences of foreigners.
The second (and more compelling) reason for resetting one’s micro-
foundations is even more subversive of the prevailing orthodoxy. What if
most of the significant actors engaged in normal politics were permanent
organizations, not individual persons? Granted that these organizations
are composed of individuals and some of them may depend on the
contributions and compliance of these persons – but many do not and
have developed elaborate rules and sources of support that cannot be
reduced to such individual actions. They embody collective choices made
long ago and have acquired a reputation and legitimacy of their own. In
other words, they are not just the arithmetic sum of independent and
individual preferences. Moreover, political parties, interest associations,
social movements, non-governmental organizations, business firms,
government agencies and private foundations are often in the business of
teaching these potential agents what their preferences should be and
committing them to obeying policies made in their name.
As we have just seen, very few individuals can determine alone what
their interests, passions or convictions are or should be – much less act
alone as effective agents. They require stimuli from their social
environment in order to discover what these motives are and coordination
with and support from other citizens/subjects in order to act with any
chance of success. Moreover, these collective agents of instruction,
information and coordination are less and less episodic alliances, clusters
of like-minded voters or spontaneous demonstrators. They have become
more and more permanent, often highly bureaucratized, organizations,
most of which have existed before being joined by their individual
members and will survive after they are gone. The most important
implication of this omnipresent development is that the agency of these
intermediaries between citizens or subjects and their legitimate or
illegitimate rulers cannot be reduced to the mere sum of the choices and
preferences of their members or followers. These intermediaries have
interests of their own related to both their distinctive needs as
organizations and to their role in coordinating the diverse interests,
passions or convictions of their members or followers. As historical
agents, they tend to develop standard-operating-procedures and in-house
ideologies. This usually serves to extend their time horizons when
calculating their interests, passions or convictions beyond what individuals
are likely to do. Moreover, they can also enter into longer-term contracts
with other organized interlocutors and state agencies. The latter may even
extend to them rights by which they are guaranteed access to public
decision-making and participation in policy implementation.
When one adds to these distinctive qualities the fact that very few of
these intermediary organizations have competitive internal processes for
choosing their leaders or staff, their autonomous contribution to the
political process should be abundantly clear – and, therefore included in
any “model” of how contemporary polities operate – whether democratic or
not.
Contemporary politics in both autocracies and democracies is all
about representation – about collective intermediaries acting in lieu of
individual persons by intervening between them and their rulers. In the
former case, the number of those involved is smaller and the criteria for
their selection are more restrictive, but organizations are still likely to be
the key actors. In the latter, freedom of association, assembly and petition
– coupled with the diffusion of organizational skills from the private to the
public realm – has made it almost mandatory for individuals to resort to
permanent collective bodies if they are to have any impact upon rulers and
their policies.
And organizations have, indeed, transformed the nature of politics.
By definition, they have solved the dilemma of rational collective action by
individuals and, in some cases, they may even have addressed some of
the issues involved in the inequality of power resources by combining large
numbers of individuals to countervail the concentrated influence of smaller,
privileged groups. Their preferences do not have to be inferred or
indirectly revealed; they are articulated publicly through the organization’s
normal activity. Granted there are bound to be some elements of
dissimulation, strategic action and hypocrisy in these activities, but these
are minor when compared to those of less well-informed and publicly
committed individuals. As we have noted above, organizations are also
capable (if they choose) of extending the time horizon for political
calculations because they usually outlive their members (and sometimes
even the social category they claim to represent). They tend to develop
standard operating procedures and official ideologies that greatly facilitate
their member’s calculation of preferences and they “package” these
preferences into acceptable and justified demands, making it much easier
for authorities to consult and negotiate with them. It does not seem
exaggerated to describe these organizations as “secondary citizens or
subjects” with their own rights and obligations – not mention their own
channels of access to authorities independent of the electoral one.
It has become customary to distinguish between three generic types
of organized intermediaries. Political parties are by far the most studied
by political scientists. Indeed, they are often described by them as the
exclusive (or, at least, the most legitimate) intermediaries representing
citizens/subjects in relation to their elected or self-appointed rulers. Their
most distinctive features (which they monopolize in most established
democratic regimes) are to nominate candidates, conduct elections,
organize legislatures and form government s. They usually do this by
developing a distinctive ideology or image that offers to their
members/voters a convincing (and sometimes alternative) set of policies
that will benefit them and then promises to use this program to order its
priorities if elected. Granted that not all organizations that call themselves
parties perform all of these functions (and definitely not all parties deliver
on their promised policies when in government) and some other types of
political organization do occasionally manage successfully to challenge
these monopolistic claims; nevertheless, the competition among political
parties or the dominance of a single party is one (if not the) most salient
feature of almost all regimes. Their absence is a sign that the polity is
probably a failure and has no regime at all.
The second generic type of organized intermediary is the interest
association. Its distinctive claim is to represent some social or economic
category in its relations with public authorities in such a way as to benefit
its own members exclusively, although it is not infrequent that its activities
will also benefit “free-riders”-- persons or organizations in the category that
are not members. Class, sector and profession are the usual, but not
exclusive, functional categories. If there are competing, over-lapping
associations claiming to represent the same category, the system of
interest intermediation can be described as pluralist. If there is only one
or only a single cluster of related associations – and even more so if public
authorities recognize such a monopoly and grant it privileged access –
then the system is called corporatist. While the number of political parties
is relatively limited by the very nature of the electoral process and its
constituencies, the number of interest associations and the relations
among them is not so limited – or, better, only limited on the demand side
by the state’s regulation of the freedom of association and on the supply
side by the division of labor and the social or cultural categories with which
individual citizens/subjects identify collectively.
The social movement is the third generic type of organized
intermediary – although many of its exemplars pretend not to be formally
organized and certainly not to be bureaucratized. The most distinctive
characteristic of a social movement is its claim to represent a “cause” or a
“public good,” i.e. a declared objective that would not benefit only its
members, but some larger group -- if not the society as a whole. In other
words, interest associations are self-regarding and social movements are
other-regarding. Political parties are usually a peculiar mix of both.
Needless to say, the causes that can be represented in this fashion are
almost infinite and will vary constantly over time from objective to objective.
Another distinguishing characteristic is that membership in a movement
can be a benefit in itself and not a cost. Members may derive a reward
from the interaction with other like-minded persons and from the
excitement of participating in group events, especially public
demonstrations. The latter incentive is particularly important compared to
other forms of intermediation (although it is not absent from them) since
one’s own contribution may not make much of a difference to the outcome
and, if the movement does produce a difference, the putative member can
enjoy the collective good without having paid for it (“free-riding” is the usual
term for this behavior).
Except for those with regimes that either prohibit the formation of
organized intermediaries’ altogether or make them subject to control by the
state or a single party, all polities have some mix of the three types and
together they may form what has been called a civil society. As early as
the 1830s, this has been identified (by Alexis de Tocqueville and Adam
Ferguson) as a distinctive and positive component of democratic regimes.
In theory, civil society is composed of “intermediate bodies,” i.e.,
formal organizations and some informal groups that have the following
characteristics:
(1) They are relatively independent of both public authorities and
private units of production and reproduction, i.e. of firms and families;
(2) They are capable of deliberating about and taking collective
actions in defense or promotion of their interests, passions or
convictions;
(3) But they do not seek to replace either state agents or private
(re)producers or to accept responsibility for governing the polity as a
whole;
(4) But they do agree to act within pre-established rules of a "civil,"
i.e. mutually respectful and law-abiding, nature.
Needless to say, some polities have much richer, more diverse and
more active civil societies than others (and this variation is often correlated
with the level of development of the economy and the length of time the
polity has been a liberal democracy). The reigning assumption seems to
be that the more civil society in a given polity, the more likely the survival
of its democracy – which, it seems to me, ignores the possibility that the
emerging civil society after a period of autocratic rule may deeply divided
in ethno-linguistic identities, highly fragmented in class and sectoral
interests, polarized by religious or cultural passions, or all of the above.
The Cleavages
Political power and its diverse outcomes depend on why and how
power is being exercised. As we have seen above, it can be used to
accomplish something and to prevent something from being accomplished.
Almost always, it involves working with someone else and these days (as
we have just seen) this in turn more often involves working through
organizations. Given the growing complexity of human interactions, it
cannot always be assumed that power will be confined within a single unit,
e.g. a nation-state. More and more often, it will be exercised across units
– sometimes in global or regional international organizations.
As we have seen from the beginning of this essay, politics begins with
the inequality of resources available to agents. Some of these may be
“natural” but most will be “artificial,” i.e. produced by their social, economic
and cultural activities. The latter are almost never distributed randomly, as
many natural differences tend to be. These purposively generated
inequalities tend be (or to become) structural, i.e. embedded in self-
reproducing cleavages. These enduring differences in interest, passion,
conviction and habit (as we shall see in the next segment) are likely to be
both multiple and mutable. Where they are not only multiple but tend to
cut across each other and, therefore, to produce different winners and
losers according to the issues at stake, politics will tend to be centripetal
in nature and moderate in content. Agents are more likely to compete for
support from those with centrist positions and, hence, more likely to reach.
and accept compromised solutions. On the other hand, if they are
cumulative across cleavages and conflicts so that the same persons or
groups are always on the winning or losing side, the politics will tend to be
centrifugal in nature and extremist in content. Agents will claim to
represent the preferences of those at opposing ends of the political
process and be much less likely to accept compromises as binding on all
parties.
Whatever the conflicts, the social, economic and cultural cleavages
that give rise to them will change as a result of past political decisions, but
also as a result of quite autonomous processes and events. Politics is
always deeply embedded in a wider context that it does not and cannot
completely control, pace the claims of totalitarian regimes. Its rules and
institutions are intended by their creators to be immutable – especially if
they are constitutional – but they are constantly being challenged. Hence,
political conflict is never just about wielding power within the pre-
established parameters of a given polity, but often about changing its rules
and practices.
The Motives
Most political struggles, however, are channelled according to pre-
established and mutually acceptable rules, i.e. they are being governed by
a regime. As we shall see infra, differences in regime tend to be associated with different motives for exercising power (or resisting it) and
this leads to different outcomes of conflict.
Roughly speaking, agents form their preferences and acquire their
motives in one of five ways. Probably the most common in contemporary
societies is the pursuit of self-regarding interests. It is not unusual for
analysts – academic or otherwise – to presume that it is the or, at least, the
most common basis of conflict and motive for action. Even more restrictive
is the notion that these interests are primarily if not exclusively material in
nature and can be pursued as rationally as one may purchase goods and
services through the market.
In its origins, political thought gave priority to passions, i.e. some
inbred compulsion to act in response to either to the agent’s sense of self
or his/her personal understanding of the social/ethical norms of some
group of reference. honor, glory, justice, respect and identity figure
prominently in such ‘passionate’ works, but the principle one has always
been “the desire for power” itself. Human beings from the earliest
recorded thoughts about politics have been regarded as having an intrinsic
passion for and deriving a distinctive pleasure from dominating other
human beings.
Thirdly, there are convictions. Historically, this was usually
connected with religiously inspired beliefs. More recently, in more
secularized societies, the key element of motivation has become ideology
– a system of concepts that provides the agent with a comprehensive
understanding of his/her environment and position within it. Needless to
say, interests and passions are usually embedded somewhere in such
belief systems, but the motive for action is more other-regarding and
oriented to the community as a whole. With the emergence of political
parties as important competing agents, their appeal to members or voters
was (at least, initially) based on ideologies combining different elements of
religious, ethnic or class conviction.
Fourthly, people -- even citizens in a democracy -- may act politically
neither intentionally, nor responsively, nor emotionally, but simply out of
habit. They are socialized to conform to rules and norms that were
chosen under different circumstances in the past, but have been reified
and dignified so that they can be applied in the present. Or, they observe
the behavior of others who may be more consciously and critically
motivated and just instinctively imitate what these “relevant others” do.
Voting may be an appropriate example of this. Most potential voters have
no interest in participating since their individual contribution to the
outcome is minimal – unless the contest is thought to be very close. Nor
are they likely to feel passionate about such an activity – unless they are
particularly attracted to a single candidate’s personality.17
Conviction is
only likely to play a role if some social group (religion, family, work unit)
makes voting a characteristic of belonging. Faute de mieux, most voters
probably vote out of habit (unless they are compelled to do so by law).
They did it before, their neighbors are doing it; the norms of citizenship
seem to require it. Unfortunately, this habit seems to waning in virtually all
established and many new democracies. The proportion of abstainers has
been increasing almost monotonically from one election to the next. Most
people do not live for or because of politics. Many prefer to live without it
and to do so frequently and habitually – if they can.
18
Finally, there is the omnipresence of fear. Regardless of who the
agents are and what is the regime in which they are embedded, politics is
ultimately all about coercion and, in order to be effective, it must
accompanied by the treat or the application of sufficient sanctions to
invoke fear. In well-established democracies, most citizens will accept this
as legitimate, i.e. as a necessary and predicable condition for the peaceful
resolution of conflicts and distribution of public goods. Someone has to
police the rules and it is likely to be more acceptable if those who apply
them can be held accountable for their actions. In autocracies – with the
possible exception of those based on traditional norms of dynastic
inheritance or religious virtue – coercion is much more frequently applied,
feared and resented. It is usually a motive for inaction and, hence, difficult
to observe and measure. Only if the sanctions are unpredictable or ineffectual are subjects likely to demonstrate or rebel – whether out of self-
interest, passion or conviction.
Whatever the motive(s), the central feature of power is to get some
person, group, organization or agency to do something that the agent
prefers and that he/she/it would not otherwise do and may even actively
oppose. Presumably that “something other” is to the self-perceived
advantage of the power-holder whether because of interest, passion or
conviction. Virtually everyone who has written about power – and there
have been many – would agree with this generic definition. Where their
disagreement begins (and has not ended) is what has to be done to
accomplish this feat.
The Processes
Motives have to be put into motion. This involves interacting with
others in accordance with their power capabilities. Really powerful agents,
especially those backed by legitimacy, may simply refuse to enter into
annoying transactions with weak claimants. Less well-endowed agents will
not be capable of resisting the politicization of the issue at stake and will,
therefore, be compelled or choose to enter the political process. When
they do, this usually means (as we have discussed above) acting within
some prescribed set of rules which are embedded in some type of regime
(as we shall see below).
By and large, the mantra of most modern scholars of politics is
competition. Agents exercise their relative power by competing with each
other in order to satisfy their respective interests, passions or convictions.
In the case of politics within an established regime, this presumes the
existence of a pre-existing institutional context in which conflicting motives
are channelled by mutually respected rules into a process that limits the
use of specified power resources and the range of possible outcomes.
Otherwise, the agents would engage in unruly conflict not bound by such
constraints and would exercise their power by threatening or exercising
violence to impose their interests, passions or convictions.
This seems both a reasonable and realistic assumption and there are
certainly many cases of polities in which the use of power has been
domesticated in this fashion to the mutual benefit of the agents involved.
The major source of distortion comes when students of politics reduce its
application to the process of electoral competition. The fact that political
parties compete with each other for the representation of territorial
constituencies and the right to form governments – even when these
elections are freely and fairly conducted, and their outcomes uncertain –
does not exhaust the channels through which political agents compete with
each other over “the authoritative allocation of values.” Not surprisingly,
these other channels are populated less with individuals than with
organizations: competition between interest associations to influence
public policy; prosecution of politicians for violating legal norms by law
firms or public interest groups; demonstrations by social movements to set
the public agenda or to block the implementation of policies; revelations by
rival media firms to discredit or support the reputation of rulers. All of
these are important (and often highly institutionalized) features of normal
politics that deserve at least as much scholarly attention as the more
regular and routinized conduct of electoral competition.
Another process also deserves a more prominent place in the micro-
foundations, namely, cooperation. Unfortunately, it is when politics fails
and violent conflict prevails that both the consumers of political knowledge
and its producers pay the most attention to it. The much less salient and
routinized processes whereby agents solve problems collectively tend to
pass unobserved. Why should politicians feel more satisfied when they
have defeated their opponents, rather than cooperated with them?19
Why
should the general public reward their rulers for winning at the expense of
others, rather than for improving the welfare of all of the protagonists? Why
is it not recognized that, if competition is not to degenerate into conflict,
agents have first to cooperate by agreeing upon the rules – formal or
informal – that limit and channel their use of power? Admittedly, many of
these rules consist of habits inherited from previous generations and are
taken for granted, but they are continuously subject to challenges as power
relations and the identity of agents change and therefore require periodic
re-affirmation. Moreover, these agents also cooperate in alliance with
each other, both to modify the pre-existing rules of engagement and to
affect present policy outcomes. While it is understandable that the public
should pay more attention to disorderly conflict because it is so threatening
and orderly competition because it is so “theatrical,” that does not excuse
politologists from also doing so. Cooperation deserves greater status and
more attention within the discipline than it usually receives.
And so does its perverse form: collusion, i.e. when agents on the
inside act in concert to prevent outsiders from competing or cooperating.
This process is much more likely to escape detection since the
agreements involved are usually secret or implicit. It can, however, be
inferred from patterns of behavior – for example, when previously
competing political parties develop more similar platforms or even co-
sponsor candidates. In the case of autocratic regimes, collusion would
seem to be the normal modus operandi of the political process. In
democracies, it is a rarer occurrence and, when it appears, a sure sign of
entropy or decay.
Political theory should be capable of explaining which of these
processes will be used in a given instance, time and place. The task is
greatly facilitated if the context is Type Two (abnormal). Virtually by
definition, in the absence of “dikes and dams,” the agents involved will be
in conflict and, therefore, compelled to resort to coercion (or the treat of it)
to resolve the issue at stake – and the outcome will be determined by the
relative distribution of power resources and the willingness to apply them in
that specific instance.20
The choice of processes is more complicated in
Type One (normal) situations. The range of alternatives is greater and the
strategic choices are more difficult to make. The ‘standard’ assumption
among politologists working on established regimes is that agents will
compete with each other through channels that are fashioned by pre-
existing “dikes and dams.” Only when these channels are poorly defined
or disputed will they resort to overt (and potentially unregulated, i.e.
violent) conflict. The strategy of cooperation seems to be contingent on
a factor that has not yet been mentioned: trust.21 If the agents involved
are confident enough that their opponents will respect the existing rules
and practices, even when it is manifestly not in their immediate interest,
passion or conviction to do and, moreover, will continue to do so if the
outcome is not what was expected, then, a mutually binding agreement
can be reached and should be self-enforcing, i.e. not require either
additional coercion or competition. In other words, trust emerges in
situations in which the (relative) winner agrees to limit his or her gains and
the (relative) loser can afford to lose because he or she is confident of being able to play the game in the future. Granted that trust is in short
supply in most political contexts and that the exercise of power tends to
breed mistrust about intentions and motives – even in Type One situations
-- but it can develop over repeated interactions when agents have learned
to respect each other in the past and know that they will have to deal with
each repeatedly in the future.
22
Its great advantage is not only to save the
costs of expending scarce resources, but also potentially to generate more
resources by enlarging the total sum of benefits. Its great disadvantage is
that it can morph into collusion in which the cooperation among favoured
agents is intended to exclude or pass on the costs to others.
The Mechanisms
The instruments or mechanisms for exercising power are not only
multiple, but they can be wielded in different combinations as agents
attempt to produce their desired outcomes.
Coercion: This is no doubt the most common feature of power-wielding
and involves an action or threat by the power-holder to deprive the power-
recipient of some valued resource, up to and including his/her/its freedom
of action or even of existence. It can be wielded legitimately according to
established and mutually acceptable rules – usually, but not always by
state institutions – or it can be wielded illegitimately – usually by private
agents.
Co-optation: This involves an action or offer that promises rewards to the
recipient in exchange for their support either for some given party or policy
or against some other party or policies. This usually means offering some
positive benefits in return for conformity, but it can also include promises to
be left alone and not be subsequently affected by the power-holder.
Manipulation: In this case, the power-holder seeks to limit or distort the
information available to the power-recipient either to narrow or widen the
agenda for decision-making and/or to alter the conception that agents
have of the alternatives available to resolve a given issue. Its utility
depends on the availability (or not) of multiple sources of information and
the capacity of actors to process information independently and critically
and to disseminate their opinions.
Hegemony: This is an extended and deepened version of manipulation in
that power is wielded long before it is actually exercised by influencing
through indirect, social, cultural and/or educational means the preferences
that citizens and subjects have in such a way that they conform to or are
compatible with those of the dominant political elite.
As we have observed above with regard to manipulation, the efficacy
of these mechanisms does not depend alone on the resources and efforts
of those who are in power. It also depends on the resources and efforts of the subjects/citizens whose behaviour they wish to influence. In the case
of autocracies, it can be presumed that the resources of opponents and
dissidents will be fewer (and more dangerous to exploit) which in turn
implies that it may be possible to combine the four mechanisms described
above in order to produce a more encompassing and formidable
mechanism of power, namely, domination. In this case, individual and
collective subjects would be much less able to resist the imposition of
arbitrary rules and actions – whether of a public or a private source. How
enduring this situation will be depends on many factors, not the least of
which are the evolution in the relative distribution of resources and the
change in ideals and expectations that may occur despite autocratic
domination. What is novel about the present context is that this
contingency is not just a domestic matter. Increasingly, the balance of
forces in autocracies are being affected by foreign influences, mostly
coming from neighboring democratic countries, but also from international
advocacy groups and foreign democracy promotion programmes.
All of the four power-exercising mechanisms can also be found in
democracies, but they can rarely be combined to produce the sort of
domination one finds in autocracies. The primary reason for this is that,
under democracy, citizens should have greater resources to pursuit their
competing interests, passions and convictions independently of the efforts
of rulers – and, therefore, it should be more costly and risky for incumbents
to try to suppress them. At the extreme, citizens may even have the
capacity to exit from particularly arbitrary constraints – even from the polity
itself. However, the price for avoiding domination is that the citizens have
to observe greater respect for the rules of the game (given the presumably
greater legitimacy of power-holders) and this implies voluntarily limiting the
pursuit of some of their more intense interests, passions and convictions.
Another major difference between the two types of regime is that
democratic rulers, when faced with the inevitable changes in resources
and ideas, can adjust peacefully (and usually incrementally) by changing
their composition and policies in response to the outcome of elections, the
pressure from interest associations and/or the mobilization of social
movements. Autocratic rulers – especially when they are bound to a
comprehensive system of domination – are either deprived of these signals
for change or incapable of making marginal adjustments in their practices.
In short, the great historical advantage of democracies in the eternal
struggle for power has been that “they can change without changing” and,
in so doing, retain the legitimacy of their institutions.
The Regimes
Most students of politics assume that the political unit they are
analyzing has a relatively stable configuration of institutions that are
complementary to each other, presumably as the result of a historical
experience of trying alternatives and eliminating incompatible ones through
competition or conflict. The actions produced by its agents, motives and
mechanisms are somehow – functionally, ideationally or intentionally –
related to each other at a higher foundational level, such that their nature
or importance cannot just be assessed alone and uniformly. They are
embedded in an institutionalized (in many cases, constitutionalized) whole
that conditions what role can be played by individuals or organizations,
self- or other-regarding interests, competitive or cooperative processes.
These regimes are given a label and it is presumed that those in the
same generic category will share many foundational elements. At one
time, there were three such generic labels: democratic, totalitarian and authoritarian (or, better, autocratic, since all regimes depend on
authority). More recently, the middle one has almost completely dropped
out as the result of the collapse of Soviet Communism and the
transformation of Chinese Communism.23
It has been replaced with
“hybrid” or with some diminished version of democracy or liberalized
version of autocracy.
Needless to say, the analyst can break down each of these into sub-
types. Democracy typically is subdivided into unitary-federal, presidential-
parliamentary, two party-multiple party, pluralist-corporatist, majoritarian-
consociational, e così via – along with an almost infinite number of
combinations and permutations of them. Autocracy also attracts at least
as many dichotomies, e.g. civil-military, personalistic-bureaucratic, jefe-
junta, ad infinitum–pro tempore, single party-no party, legalistic-arbitrary,
domestic-foreign, repressive-homicidal ecosì via. Which of these sub-types
is useful will depend on the subject matter the analyst has chosen to
investigate. For example, Guillermo O’Donnell and I in our work on regime
transitions found it useful to divide the hybrid category in two:
dictablandas in which elections are regularly held (but in which the
incumbents are foregone winners), various civic rights – of association,
assembly, petition and media freedom – are formally tolerated (but
informally restricted) and arbitrary harassment and arrest of opponents has
declined (although can still be applied) and democraduras in which elections are regularly held and fairly tallied (but under conditions that
favour the governing party), various civic rights are protected legally (but
erratically enforced) and the harassment and imprisonment of opponents
has become rare (but remains a plausible threat).24
The implications of this intrusion of “regimes” into the micro-
foundations of the discipline are considerable – if still debatable. For one
thing, the recognition of such categorical diversity means giving up the
“Holy Grail” of politologists, namely, the quest for universalistic, immutable
“covering laws” that can be applied to all agents, motives or mechanisms.
Individuals or organizations do not behave the same way in democracies
and autocracies; the “reasonableness” and “appropriateness” of interests
or passions depends on the institutions to which they are addressed;
mechanisms such as competitive elections or cooperative multi-party
alliances can take on different meanings depending on their complimentary
relationship with other mechanisms of competition/conflict or
cooperation/collusion. This may be reflected in the quite noticeable
decline in references to “national” or “regional” peculiarities in explaining
political behaviour. Adjectives such as “Asian,” “Latin American,” “African,”
“Bolivian” or “Albanian” placed in front of substantives such as democracy
or political culture tend now to have a descriptive and not an analytic
importance. What counts are generic institutional configurations wherever
they are located, rather than geo-cultural specificities.
Democracy has always played a prominent role in the modern study
of politics – if only because data about these regimes have been more
accessible and academic inquiry – even critical inquiry -- about them has
been more protected and even encouraged. Indeed, in some countries,
teaching and research about politics is confined almost exclusively to
inquiry into the rules and practices of democracy.
More accurately said, it has been confined to the institutions and
practices of “real-existing democracy” (RED). For what these scholars
observe and analyse is not, strictly speaking, dēmokratίa, i.e. “rule by the
people,” but politokratίa, i.e. “rule by politicians who claim to represent the
people because they have been elected by a part of the people.”25
All
REDs are based primarily on the “vicarious” participation of their citizens in
decision-making (although sometimes they include elements of direct
participation such as referendums, initiatives, plebiscites, demonstrations,
riots and so forth). They are also the product of some sequence of historic
compromises with other pre-existing political institutions, e.g. monarchy,
theocracy, aristocracy, oligarchy and tyranny, and with other principles of
authoritative distribution, e.g. divine right, inherited privilege, charisma,
liberalism, socialism, communism and, above all, capitalism. The first
thing to keep in mind when studying “real-existing democracy” is that it is
always incomplete and defective when judged by the standards of “ideal-
not-yet-existing democracy.” Indeed, it is this persistent (but periodically
widening or narrowing) gap between actual practices and ideal principles
that explains in part why REDs are under almost constant pressure to
reform themselves. Put differently, REDs are (and should be) “moving
targets.” Like all social institutions, they are subject to entropy, i.e. a
tendency to decline in efficacy, but – “mind the gap” – they benefit from
periodic injections of renewed energy – usually from below but
occasionally from above or from outside.
The Consequences
Politics has consequences – many, diverse, often unexpected, but
always serious. Presumably, this is why Aristotle baptized the study of it
as “the Master Science,” since virtually all other aspects of collective
human existence depend on what it produces. “Who gets What, When,
How and Why?” is an encapsulated version of this observation, since the
answer is that “almost everyone” is affected in some way or another by this
process of allocating scarce values.
Order: This (or its absence) is certainly the most important product of
politics.27
Its presence is not to be confused with stability or the mere
persistence of the same persons in power or policies in effect. Order is
produced by adapting to change and we have just argued infra that
change is endemic to politics. This process of orderly adaption involves
the domestication of power so that it does not degenerate into violence
and remains with predictable limits of coercion, but responds to the
continuous change in the resources that agents have at their disposition,
as well as the intrinsic tendency they have for being “restless” and,
therefore, for being curious, experimental, and/or dissatisfied with their
environment.
Order can be imposed involuntarily by the superior coercive force of a
concentrated group of agents or it can be generated voluntarily through the
formation of consent among a broad range of agents. This, more or less,
corresponds to different locations along the continuum of regime types with
various forms of autocracy at one end and of democracy at the other. One
of the abiding strengths of the latter is the greater availability of information
about the resources and restlessness of agents and the capacity to
respond by peacefully rotating those in authority and responding
incrementally to changes in citizen demands. The former have subjects and not citizens. It is much more difficult for their rulers to capture reliable
information about them, to respond by “changing policies without changing
politics,” and to manage orderly succession in power.28
The by now classic device for ensuring the continuous production of
order is to constitutionalize the rules for the domestication of power (and,
presumably to impose its formal provisions upon the informal practices that
inevitably arise from resolving political conflicts). With very few exceptions,
these days all regimes – whether democratic or autocratic – have such a
document – whether plebiscited from below or promulgated from above.
Which does not mean that all constitutions are respected and obeyed.29
And all of them have their “abeyances,” aspects of power relations that
cannot be formally codified.30
Production and Distribution:
31 Politics alters the production of
desired goods (and unwanted bads) and it changes their distribution in
ways that would not be experienced if they were affected only by social custom, religious conviction or market allocation. Whether something is
produced and how much of it is produced is affected by the decisions of
public authorities. They license the producers and regulate their products.
Someone always wins more or loses less when powerful agents intervene
to convert private goods in public ones. The critical issue in terms of its
relation to order is whether this process of regulated (re)production or
conscious (re)distribution is acceptable to those affected. On this issue,
the criteria seem to vary considerably according to the type of regime, but
they could also be culturally sensitive – regardless of regime type.
Absention from subsidization and regulation is the mantra of liberalism,
although even the most convinced liberals would admit the political
intervention is required for private property to exist and markets to operate
at all. Equality of benefits (or in the distribution of costs) is the mantra in
democratic theory, although citizens seem to accommodate in practice to
various (even more recently, very high) levels of social and economic
inequality – provided that the order produced by the regime is conducive to
an overall growth in the availability of scarce goods and a noticeable
diminution in the existence of avoidable bads.
32
In autocracies, the mere
avoidance of violence (especially coming from external sources) may be
enough to tolerate higher levels of repression, distortions in production and
inequalities of distribution. Their leaders are also likely to argue (and be believed by their subjects) that only their presence ensures a reliable rate
of growth in the total quantity of goods to be distributed (and bads to be
avoided). A similar rationale seems to be effective in justifying the role of
technocrats and experts.
Recognition and Respect:
33 Politics unavoidably involves
recognizing the existence of differences and assigning a status to them.
The most salient one – at least since the nation-state has asserted its
hegemony – has been (and still is) membership in the political unit itself,
i.e. nationality. The privileges and obligations that accompany this status
have varied a great deal over time and across regime types, but
everywhere a distinction is made between those who are recognized as
“inside” the polity and those who are “outside” it. Moreover, whether this
involves citizenship or “subject-ship,” it is usually presumed that belonging
to a given nation-state is primary – and that all other recognitions are
secondary and dependent upon it.34
Having made this distinction, politics goes on to recognize a large
number and variety of other identities – and to assign to them distinctive
statuses and treatments. Supporters and opponents is one of the most
prominent and can be augmented to distinguish between loyalists and subversives. Membership in political parties, interest associations and
social movements contribute to the creation of ‘a wide variety of
secondary’ identities – whether voluntarily in democratic civil societies or
obligatorily in autocratic regimented categories. All regimes recognize the
distinction between rulers and ruled, although how one acquires the more
exalted status and what he or she can do with it varies a great deal from
one type to another.
Just as politics inevitably involves the distribution of goods and bads,
so it also involves struggles for the recognition of those who participate in
it. The rules that assign memberships and identities are not fixed and are
subject to contestation – just as are the rules for allocating costs and
benefits. This corresponds to the earlier observation that order is only
produced by indigenous change in response to exogenous challenges.
Part of that adjustment process means recognizing not just the existence
of diverse categories of agents but also modifying the rules that assign
differences in status (rights and obligations) to them. To the extent that
these assignments are regarded as fair to and respectful of those affected,
they contribute positively to the overall objective of domesticating power.
Externalities: No political unit, least of all contemporary nation-states
embedded in increasing networks of interdependence with units beyond
their borders and beyond their control, can ensure order within its borders
without dealing with the consequences of its impact upon these other
polities. The fancy word for these effects is “externalities.” They can be positive in the case of the unilateral exploitation of impotent outsiders;35
they can be negative when the outsiders demand compensation – and are
powerful enough to ensure that it will be forthcoming. Historically, in the
study of politics, this was a subject that was assigned to specialists in
international relations and, therefore, presumed to be condemned to Type
Two politics. There could be no orderly solution to such conflicts since, by
definition this was a realm of political activity that was “anarchic,” i.e.
without orderly rules or practices and beyond the capability of creating
them given the (presumed) sovereignty of the agents involved. Only
something called a “balance of power” among such independent units
could (temporarily) produce order.
One distinctive and original characteristic of contemporary politics has
been the attempt to “domesticate” the impact of externalities by creating
“international regimes”—usually dominated by technical experts – that
register their effects and generate rules that allocate the costs involved
among those affected, positively or negatively, on some pre-established,
mutually acceptable (“fair”) basis. By far the most elaborate of these
regimes has emerged at the regional level in Western (and subsequently
Eastern) Europe. It is now called the European Union and, while it is
presently in serious crisis, it has made and still is making an important
contribution to the over-riding objective of order. Literally, hundreds of
other regional organizations have emerged all over the globe, but only the EU has managed to acquire a degree of “supra-national” authority that
allows it to deal with externalities among its member states in an orderly
and consensual fashion. There is also a myriad of so-called “functional”
international organizations and agreements –many attached as specialized
agencies to the United Nations – that are trying to extend Type One
politics into arenas previously characterized by Type Two politics and,
hence, regarded as intrinsically ungovernable. Needless to say, these
efforts are unevenly distributed – geographically and functionally – but they
have contributed to reducing the resort to violence or coercion to resolve
cross-border conflicts.
Legitimacy: If the (implicit) theory underwriting this segment of the
essay is correct, order occupies the top line among the consequences of
politics and legitimacy forms its bottom line. In between,
production/distribution, recognition/respect and externalities connect the
two. There will only be legitimacy if there is order and how much of it and
what kind of it will depend on the intervening consequences.
Power and legitimacy are among the most frequently used and
essentially contested concepts in politology.36
They are also very difficult
to measure quantitatively or observe qualitatively because they share a
peculiar characteristic: when they are most important, they are least evident. An agent with absolute power does not have to act in order to
produce compliant behaviour; an agent who is absolutely legitimate can
invoke conformity without doing anything and without meeting resistance
from others. How do you explain something that is not happening -- a dog
that is not barking? The only available instrument that I can think of
depends on the plausibility of exploring a counterfactual, namely, what
would the compliant-conformist agent have done if the powerful-legitimate
agent not been there? Even the most gifted of politologists will find it
difficult to make such an assessment credible.
First, let me define this illusive concept: Legitimacy is a shared
expectation among actors in a relation of power such that the actions of
those who rule are accepted voluntarily by those who are ruled because
the latter are convinced that the actions of the former conform to pre-
established and acceptable norms. This implies:
1. That the basis upon which these norms are pre-established and become
acceptable can vary from one arrangement, site or time to another – not
only from one country or culture to another, but also within a single
country/culture according to function or place.
2. That the units within which relations of sub- and super-ordination are
being voluntarily practiced can also vary in both time and space. While
there is a tendency in the politicological literature on legitimacy to accept
passively the sovereign national state as the “natural” and “exclusive”. site, there is no reason why other (sub- or supra-national) “polities”
cannot have their own normative basis of legitimate authority.
3. That the norms must be accepted and “shared” by the actors, both
those who rule and those who are ruled. This implies, first of all, that
they must know who they are and what their respective roles should be.
It also implies that the exercise of authority is “systemic,” i.e. that it is
embedded in a collectivity that is sufficiently interdependent and
mutually trustful so that disputes over the validity of rules can be (and
usually are) resolved by the intervention of third parties within them.
4. That the actors involved may be individuals or collectivities of various
sorts. Most of the literature conveniently makes the liberal assumption
that the unique judges of legitimacy are individual human beings. This
allows it to rely heavily on notions of family socialization, “moral
sentiment,” and a personal ethic of responsibility as the source of norms
and the virtually unconscious mechanism for their enforcement. And
this in turn tends to lead one to the conclusion that it is only in polities
that have acquired a high degree of cultural homogeneity – e.g. nation-
states – that legitimate political authority is possible. When one
introduces (as I have done infra), the heterodoxical idea that most of the
exchanges in modern politics are between organizations and that these
organizations tend to rely upon and reproduce norms of prudence, legal
propriety and “best practice” that transcend individual preferences and
even national borders, it then becomes possible to speak of legitimacy as “systemic”and not just “personal,” and as “strategic” and not just
“instinctive.”
5. That the basis for voluntary conformity is presumably normative, not
instrumental. In a legitimate polity, actors agree to obey decisions that
they have not supported made by rulers whom they have not voted for.
They also agree to do so even if it is not in their (self-assessed) interest
to do so – and they should continue to do so even when the
effectiveness of the polity is in manifest decline.
Having defined this ambiguous concept, let us now turn to the more
difficult question of what produces it.37
Above, I have argued that order,
in the first place, and then, production/reproduction, recognition/respect
and externalities all contribute something to its existence. The more
acceptable a given unit, regime or person is to its population with
reference to these consequences, the more legitimate it or they are
likely to be. But these are correlations not causes. And legitimacy is
the product of strategic choice, not of unconscious habit or inculcated obedience.
The Methods
Politology uses many methods and politologists argue incessantly
about which is generically the best –“the most scientific” -- and even about
which is the better for studying a particular topic. Few of their methods are
indigenous to the discipline; most have been adopted from one of the other social sciences.
Gross modo, politologists can be grouped into three “schools” and,
needless to say, each of them has its distinctive set of methods.46
Most of
them are “realists.” They study what is (or has been) and their methods
involve various forms of empirical observation and pattern recognition.
Some of them count and others describe, but both are only interested in
what actually has happened or is happening. Others could be called
“idealists” who study what should be happening, and apply normative
standards to evaluate what it is (or has been). Finally, there is a very small
group of “surrealists” who are interested in what might have been in the
past and what might exist in the future.47
Since realists dominate the discipline, I will focus on their choice of
methods. As I have pointed out supra, idealistically minded politologists
are usually segregated into a compartment called the “history of political
thought” or “normative political theory.” They are tolerated by the former
as a sort of residue from the pre-scientific origins of the discipline, but
largely ignored. The surrealists are not even recognized by the other two
schools and, if they are working in departments or faculties of political science, they do so clandestinely either by exploring counter-factuals from
the past or inventing projections about the future.48
Realists have a rich tool kit at their disposition – usually arrayed along
a continuum running from the qualitative to the quantitative, i. e. from
telling a convincing story to discovering a significant correlation.49
The
former are proud of their capacity for including many variables in their “rich
descriptions;” the latter have a preference for parsimony in their choice of
variables and for statistical proofs as the basis for their conclusions. 50
Both open their respective tool boxes by defining an explicandum – that
which they propose to explain – followed by an explicans – that which is
supposed to do the explaining. In the professional jargon, this is referred
to as the “dependent variable” (“Y”) and the “independent variable or
variables” (“X or Xs”).” They are supposed to be distinct from each other in both their origins and presence,
51but related to each other in some
significant manner.52
It may be that the latter is necessary for the former to
exist and, in extreme cases, both necessary and sufficient for it to exist. In
most cases involving politics, it is enough that X is capable of producing
some change (positive or negative) in Y and in doing so sufficiently
frequently and significantly such that it could not be just due to pure
chance. Their relation may be expressed as an explicit and potentially
falsifiable hypothesis that specifies why and sometimes even how they are
connected53, but often it is enough just to begin with a hunch that they may
be related in some fashion or for some reason.54
Needless to say, both
explicandum and explicans have been conceptualized in lower case terms,
i.e. identified as instances of some class of events or processes. The
upper case work on explaining singular happenings is usually left to
historians. Cutting across the classical, intra-disciplinary dispute between
quantifiers and qualifiers is another continuum of choice: should the
researcher use obtrusive or unobtrusive methods? In the former case, the
data gathered involve active intervention, for example, by asking questions
to a random sample of citizens or to a select set of informants. In the latter
case, the politologist passively collects data that have been made
publically available or can be ‘scored’ without the knowledge of the agents
involved. Whether the data collected come in the form of numbers or of
descriptions depends on the topic (and on the researcher’s training, not to
mention the fashion of the discipline at the time) or on the ease of access
to the information needed. Both can contribute to the systematic
accumulation of knowledge; both can also produce data that are irrelevant
with regard to a given concept55 or inaccurate due to collection errors. The
former method is especially vulnerable to the possibility that the
researcher’s intrusion will distort the behavior being observed or counted;
the latter depends crucially on the accuracy of those who gathered the
data or the intention of those who designed the indicator in the first place
Most politologists conceive of the X-Y relationship in linear terms:
changes in the former are expected to produces changes in the latter by
direct interaction of some predictable magnitude or reason. For example,
so-called “development theory” was rooted in the observable empirical relation between the per capita wealth of a given unit and its type of
regime. The richer a country was, the more likely its regime was to be
democratic. If strictly linear, this implied that each increment in USD per
capita would “buy” some more democracy. When this did not always
happen, analysts began transforming the nature of its linearity – by
inserting thresholds or by postulating various curvilinear effects. A more
promising variant of this has been to pay much greater attention to the
potential role of “contextual variables.” This involves different forms of
“lateral thinking” in which the usual linear approach is supplemented with
one or both of two considerations: (1) specifying the variables that were
previously necessary in order that X and Y could become related to each
other; and (2) identifying the conditions that emerge – usually
unexpectedly – from the interaction of X and Y and may modify its
outcome. The former suggests that X and Y may be related to each other
to different degrees and even in opposite ways during different historical
periods, in different cultures or according to different sequences of
occurrence. The latter is even more subversive for “realistic” analysts
since innovation and unpredictability are intrinsic features of their subject
matter – and they can intervene ex post to change the preferences and
behaviors of the agents involved. In other words, politics is a “contingent
business,” and the study of it should recognize it methodologically.
As we have seen above, most academic students of politics begin
(usually implicitly) by presuming that the politics they propose to study are
of Type One, I.e., already embedded in institutions and practices that are
capable of channelling the efforts of agents when they exercise power in
predicable and rule-regarding ways. Students of international relations
used to think of themselves as condemned to studying Type Two politics,
but have more recently begun to recognize the orderliness and rule-
abidingness that prevails between nation-states in some regions of the
world.57
It is much easier to gather data and to produce your own data in
the former context – although access and availability do vary considerably
from one type of regime to another and from one degree of stateness to
another.
But politologists are usually not content just to display the data; they
want to analyse them (and maybe even to make inferences and generalize
on the basis of what they find out). One of the longest lasting disputes in
the social sciences has been about the purpose of this exercise.58
Is it
enough just to demonstrate and correlate the mechanism(s) whereby X
and Y are related to each other? Or should one go beyond this in order to
capture what the agents thought about the relationship and what they intended to do about it? The first presumes that political power is basically
“structural or functional” in nature. It is built into entrenched institutions or
independent operations and, therefore, produces its effects without the
agents considering the possibility of alternative responses or even being
capable of fully understanding what they are doing. The second is
“voluntaristic” in that the outcome depends critically on the attitudes and
objectives of the agents involved – and they are likely to be aware of other
potential courses of action. Needless to say, most situations in the real
world of politics have elements of both, but the choice to emphasize one or
the other at the stage of conceptualization will have a major impact on the
methods applied (and, of course, on the eventual data that have to be
gathered).
The Promise
Reflecting in a concerted and cumulative way on the nature of
politics, as distinct from merely recording the content of its laws or relating
the feats of its leaders, started under very peculiar circumstances in a very
specific setting – and we are still indebted to this effort by our Greek
predecessors. From its heartlands in Western Europe and North America,
it has subsequently spread to virtually all corners of the Earth. New ideas,
concepts, methods and even basic assumptions are now coming from a
much wider range of sources and sites. Political scientists are also being
employed in a much greater variety of places outside of academe.
Assessing the contribution of the discipline to the practice of politics is
a more difficult task. It certainly is not the case that it has been uniformly
successful in improving the quality of politics, but it has made some
observable improvement in some cases – although it would be an
exaggeration to claim that politicians who have been trained as political
scientists have done a better job at practicing politics. The best one can
expect is that politologists will be able to describe accurately and explain
convincingly what has happened in the past, estimate the probable
occurrences and outcomes that are happening in the present, and, maybe,
imagine what could happen in the future.
It has been a privilege to have played a modest role in this reflexive
process. And, occasionally, it has even been fun and exciting. I must
confess that I have never considered myself a scientist. My experience
has been closer to that of an artist. A scientist is confident that his or her
observations are accurate, valid and definitive, that they conform to reality
and that his or her findings are conclusive in the sense that other scientists
gathering and manipulating data on the same subject would always arrive
at similar (if not identical) conclusions. I have never had that sort of
confidence in what I have contributed. An artist is always aware that he or
she can never completely grasp and represent reality – least of all,
condense it into a parsimonious formula, measure it numerically and
calculate the significance of its relationships.
65 The best one can do is to produce an approximation or impression of what is an inevitably complex
and contingent process of action and reaction whose results are always
ephemeral and, then, to attempt to communicate this to others in the form
of words which are also only imperfect approximations of reality. An artist
also tends to produce “pentimenti” – corrections to what he or she has
written (or painted or said) and that I have been frequently compelled to
do.
66
From my perspective (paraphrasing Aristotle’s), this “(unfortunate but
fascinating) imprecision in the (political) class of things” should make the
student of politics wary of applying the exacting standards of the natural
sciences to his or her research. Bismarck famously described politics as
“the art of the possible” – ergo not “the science of the probable or of the
inevitable.”
This may explain my predilection for the use of “ideal” types in this
essay. It constitutes my recognition (however imperfect) that political
reality is composed of complex relationships and institutions that can only
be captured with concepts composed of a multitude of (presumably) co-
variant conditions. A student once complained to me that my definition of
corporatism contained no less than 14 variables! I was a bit embarrassed
by this revelation – until I discovered Austria which almost perfectly fit my
ideal-type. All of the other so-called “neo-corporatist” systems of interest
intermediation in Western Europe lacked one or more of its conditions.
The definitions of other key concepts in this essay may be somewhat less
prolix, but they do represent my effort at trying to seize the complexity of
contemporary politics – with all of the attendant problems of
comprehension and measurement.
As self-serving as it may sound, I believe that the study of
contemporary politics has too many aspiring scientists and not enough
aspiring artists. As an academic profession, it is unfortunately rigged to
reward the former and to discredit the latter. It needs both.68
My hunch is that, unless the practice of politics becomes dramatically
simpler, the time-tested scientific formula of disaggregating complex
phenomena, measuring precisely and analyzing separately their components and then re-combining them synthetically in order to arrive at
convincing findings about the behavior of the whole will become less-and-
less productive. As mentioned above, many of phenomena that political
scientists are most anxious to explain have become “multi-layered, poly-
centric and externally penetrated” and, hence, their behaviour is
increasingly subject to the effects of interaction between components and
contingent relations with their external environment. The result has (not
yet) become chaotic, but the practice of politics has certainly become less
orderly and predictable.
Also dubious are growing efforts by political scientists to replicate the
second time-tested formula of the physical sciences, namely,
experimentation. This can lead to findings that are “internally valid” in the
sense that replications are likely to produce the same empirical results –
but only provided that the subjects of the research have been randomly
selected from the same population, exposed to the same “treatment” and
then compared to some control group that has not been treated similarly or
given some other treatment. If one does not randomize, the subjects of
the experiment are likely to have some (or several) characteristics in
common, other than the one specific source of variation that is being
introduced. However, what is even more questionable is the “external
validity” of such experiments in two senses: (1) Would the findings also be
valid for a random sample from a culturally, economically or socially
different population in a different political unit?; and (2) Would they remain valid if the individuals involved were gathered into political groups of a
larger and larger scale? The first is known in the jargon of the social
sciences as the “problem of generalizability;” the second as the “fallacy of
aggregation.” In other words, transferring the laboratory to another country
is very likely to result in different (but equally scientific) results, or leaving
the lab for the real world of politics with all of its layers and angles is even
more likely to produce different (but more politically significant) behaviours
and results. The world of politics is becoming more and more complex and
less and less explicable in terms of either the mechanical combination of
its discrete components or the arithmetic sum of individual responses to
experimental treatments.
The practice of politology does follow (and should incorporate)
changes in “real-existing politics,” but it has always done so with a
considerable delay and often against entrenched professional interests. I
have argued above that the most important generic changes that have
occurred in recent decades involve the spread of “complex
interdependence.” Many anomalies and unexpected political outcomes
can be traced to its influence. There is absolutely nothing new about the
fact that formally independent polities have extensive relations with each
other. What is novel is not only the sheer magnitude and diversity of these
exchanges, but also the extent to which they penetrate into virtually all
social, economic and cultural groups and into almost all geographic areas within these polities. Previously, they were mainly concentrated among
restricted elites living in a few favored cities or regions. Now, it takes an
extraordinary political effort to prevent the population anywhere within
national borders from becoming “contaminated” by the flow of foreign ideas
and enticements. Globalization has become the catch-all term for these
developments, even if it tends to exaggerate the evenness of their spread
and scope across the planet. Politology (usually called political science)
has become a globalized discipline, but most of its practitioners have
remained national, if not provincial, in their approach to it.
Bibliography
Plato, Republic, Statesman and Laws.
Aristotle, Politics and Nichomachean Ethics.
Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War.
Polybius, The Histories and De Re Publica.
Machiavelli, The Prince, History of Florence and The Discourses on the
First Ten Books of Titus Livius.
Hobbes, Leviathan
Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws and The Persian Letters
Rousseau, The Social Contract.
Constant, De la libertè des anciens comparèe à celle des modernes.
Smith, An Essay into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, and
The Theory of Moral Sentiments
Locke, Two Treatises of Government and An Essay Concerning Human
Understanding
Hamilton et al., The Federalist Papers
De Tocqueville, Democracy in American (2 vols.) and The Ancient Regime
and the Revolution.
Mill (J.S.), Considerations on Representative Government.
Marx, The 18th Brumaire and The Civil War in France.
Engels, The Origins of Family, Private Property and the State.
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