Finally, in India he had, as he thought, found his ideal realised.
There, with whatever shortcomings, there was at least a strong Government;
rulers who ruled; capable of doing business; of acting systematically upon
their convictions; strenuously employed in working out an effective system; and
not trammelled by trimming their sails to catch every [316]temporary gust of
sentiment in a half-educated community. His book, he often said, was thus
virtually a consideration of the commonplaces of British politics in the light
of his Indian experience. He wished, he says in one of his letters, to write
about India; but as soon as he began he felt that he would be challenged to
give his views upon these preliminary problems: What do you think of liberty,
of toleration, of ruling by military force, and so forth?
At the
beginning of our last series of wars, in 2001, I became interested in the
interconnected problems of empire and central planning. At the time, I thought
of war in the normal way – as derivative of the state. I am now not so sure
that war isn’t, as Heraclitus thought, primary, and the state secondary,
something dragged behind the one human organization that will always be with
us.
At the
time, there was a spate of essays in the thumbsucking journals assuring us that
America was an empire and it was time to get with the white man’s burden. It
was spring time for Niall Ferguson, in other words.
I noticed
that one emblematic figure from history was sometimes mentioned in these
Imperialist pep rallies – Pilate. Tony Blair, perhaps the most unctuous figure
in recent history, had mentioned Pilate with some sympathy in a speech lauding “humanitarian
intervention” – a beautiful phrase that was as meaningless as, say, loving
rape, or charitable robbery. A conman’s phrase, in other words. Conman’s
phrases go through the thumbsucking journals like berries through the belly of
a goose – they come in all sweet and gooey, and they come out shit.
I found,
I thought, the definitive topos on the Pilate as tragic colonial governor – or tragic
humanitarian intervenor – in an obscure Victorian book, Liberty Equality
Fraternity, by Virginia Woolf’s uncle, Fitzjames Stephen. The more I learned
about Stephen, who is mentioned by a lot of late nineteenth century worthies –
for instance, William James – the more I thought he was the kind of marginal
figure through which major currents of history flowed in an exemplary fashion.
Well, my
essay on Pilate, and on the imperialist effect on politics in the twentieth
century, fell by the wayside. But I remembered it recently when I saw an
allusion in the TLS to Leslie Stephen’s biography of his brother, and looked up
the chapter on the book. I was impressed – the chapter is a minor classic in
sorting out various currents in the philosophy of law and politics which we
have all but forgotten, having decided, by warrant of the 101 class, that
utilitarianism runs straight through John Stuart Mill and then gets taken up by
various analytic ethicists in the 1950s and 60s, thus missing its whole
historical effect.
To which
I have to return…
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