In the 1927, the founder of the ACLU, Roger Baldwin, visited Russia.  He was exuberant about the new world view presented by the possibilities of the new Soviet Union.  He was excited by the working together, egalitarianism, and collective spirit of the Soviet Union as opposed to the greedy individualism, unequal distribution of wealth, and forgotten poor of free-market democracies.  He went so far as to write of Russia, “Everyone is poor together ... There is much discontent, much regulation of life, but not much terrorism or repression except of the old upper classes.”  In contrast to the traditional American view expressed by Calvin Coolidge when he said, “All liberty is individual,” Baldwin saw the possibility of a higher, greater collective freedom over that of individual liberty.  Baldwin’s experience in Russia and belief in collectivism culminated in his book Liberty Under the Soviets.  How shocked he must have been when his friend and mentor, Emma Goldman, after reading his book wrote to him, “I frankly admit that people as naïve as you are hopeless.  They see the world and the struggle through romantic rosy eyes as the young innocent girl sees the first man she loves.”  It would take time, but Baldwin eventually saw that his friend was right, in 1959 he said, “We went wrong, we were starry-eyed.”  Twenty-five years after he wrote Liberty Under the Soviets, Baldwin wrote another book on Russia which he entitled A New Slavery.¹

I sometimes feel bad for the now twenty-something and younger year olds.  Unencumbered by the day-to-day necessities of job, family, and bills, our high school and college years offer the opportunity for more expansive views of society, country, and the world at large; we have the opportunity to play with big ideas and big issues.  During my high school days—living in the shadow of the New Deal and Great Society—we had two great ideals to choose from:  classical liberalism versus collectivism.  The conservative position of classical liberalism said that the productive and creative power of free-markets combined with the personal responsibility and individual liberty of limited federalist government was the answer.  On the other side was the democratic socialism that grew out of the 1960s New Left where the community helped all its members according to their needs.  The debate was unsettled.  But then, as the Soviet Union collapsed, the United States dominated as Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and Bill Clinton moved her away from the welfare state toward democratic capitalism, and Western Europe increasingly moderated social democracy in an attempt to catch-up, it was over:  democratic capitalism had won and socialism was discredited.  The victory of liberal democracy was so clear that Francis Fukuyama could write a book entitled The End of History.  For the young student, restless and unsatisfied, there was no longer any great debate or great struggle.

But Fukuyama was premature.  He did not understand that liberal democratic capitalism is unsatisfying and too realistic for the idealist.  It says that we are all equal under the law, all equal in opportunity, but not all equal in outcome.  Those economically disadvantaged by birth must struggle so much harder, the weak and less industrious lose, and not everyone gets to ski the slopes of Colorado or buy Starbucks coffee.  This economic inequality does not seem just to the idealist, whether they are a compassionate religious Republican or a kindhearted humanist Democrat.  But the ugliest part about democratic capitalism is the struggle itself; even the successful must struggle.  The struggle is hard, tiring, and endless.  Capitalism is based on competition; a competition that means the majority of your waking life is spent working for money so you have enough to enjoy those few hours at night or on the weekend with your family and friends (if your endless work day has not left you too exhausted).  If you’re lucky, after 45 years of 60 hour work weeks, you can retire.  This is the vision that liberal democratic capitalism presents.

What kind of vision is this?  How can this be the best that humankind can come up with?  This is the advantage that collectivism has always had—whether it is communism, fascism, national socialism, or social anarchism.  Collectivism offers the hope that people can unite together, put aside their individual interest and greed, and elevate the lives of all.  It’s the utopia that is so appealing about collectivism.  How can the brutal, realistic view of liberal democratic capitalism ever compete with the idyllic, utopian vision of the idealist?  Only through experience; only when the utopian experiment has been tried and failed.  This is where Fukuyama made his mistake:  he saw that all the collective experiments had been tried and proved to be failures in comparison to liberal democracy.  He did not see, and could not conceive of, another comprehensive collectivist political philosophy; therefore, liberal democracy was the winner and history was over.  What he did not understand was that the utopian urge would not die and people’s memories are short.

We have seen over the past decade and a half collectivism wander in the wilderness, unsure of itself and without answers to the overwhelming apparent success and prosperity of capitalism.  Unable to put together a coherent, comprehensive political philosophy, it has turned to criticism.  Even here it has been unable to create a comprehensive critique, instead it’s fragmentary; environmentalism, anti-globalization, sustainable agriculture are examples.  But in the end, it found its voice in the indeterminate.  Its most powerful critique is formless yet strikes at the heart of liberal democratic capitalism by tapping into that utopian urge:  can’t we do better.  And, as a positive action statement, the formless “can’t we do better” becomes the formless “we need change.”