Politics as a Vocation

Mark Beeson argues that the historical moment may demonstrate the limits of national power when confronted with global problems.

One of the most famous essays on the nature of politics was actually written by a sociologist. But given legend has it that Max Weber was possibly the last person who understood everything that was happening in both the natural and social sciences, perhaps this should come as no surprise. What is surprising is the fact that given the epochal changes that have occurred over the last century, much of his analysis of ‘politics as a vocation’  in 1919 still looks relevant.

The same but different

One thing that might have astounded Weber is not only the number of prominent female politicians and leaders these days, but in Britain’s case, the fact that some of them are products of its former empire. Whatever you think of Kemi Badenoch’s political skills and policies, the reality that a woman of Nigerian Yoruba descent is leading the Conservative party is still a remarkable and rather impressive marker of Britain’s social transformation and integration.

Whether it will remain that way given Nigel Farage’s seemingly unstoppable rise in the polls is another question. Farage has risen to prominence in large part by rejecting many of the forces that have undermined national sovereignty, especially transnational cooperation with other states, of course. There’s decreased demand for cerebral, cautious types like Keir Starmer in an era of events that unfold with dizzying speed.

Indeed, there seems to be a growing appetite for populist leaders who promise to respond decisively disconcerting change by reasserting control over national borders and championing a traditional notion of national identity. One of the most striking illustrations of this possibility has been the rapid rise of Sanae Takaichi, the first female prime minister of Japan, and an ardent admirer of Margret Thatcher. 

While her ascent may be a welcome break with Japan’s traditional pattern of male-dominated society, it is uncertain whether her brand of nationalism will be any more successful in addressing long-term economic and social change than Farage’s.Farage is not the worst or most consequential example of the type, of course. That award, along with the many others bestowed by his sycophantic interlocuters, must go to the most powerful man in the world. 

Plus ça change?

Despite his unprecedented impact on his own country and the world, Doanld Trump ticks some familiar Weberian boxes:

there is no more harmful distortion of political force than the parvenu like braggart with power, and the vain self-reflection in the feeling of power, and in general every worship of power per se.’

It is not just that Trump is so clearly drunk with power that makes him the embodiment of all that Weber feared, but that he has brazenly fulfilled another classic Weberian characteristic: ‘Either one lives “for” politics or one lives “off” politics’. 

Trump has turned living off politics into something of an art form. There is some stiff competition for the accolade of ‘most corrupt president’ in American history, but none of Trump’s predecessors were quite so blatant in their efforts to monetise the office for their own benefit or that of their family and cronies. Not only is Trump completely shameless and impervious to questions of morality, but he also infects those around him and gives comfort to imitators and undermines democracy elsewhere.

Weber can’t be blamed for not foreseeing the transformative and sovereignty shrinking effects of globalisation, but he would surely have recognised that it is not simply an economic phenomenon. On the contrary, one of the defining features of the international order that the United States did so much to create and impose following World War 2 was a form of political hegemony in which other states adopted principles and norms that were in many ways distinctively American.

What sets Trump apart, is not just his limited grasp of, or contempt for, institutionalised norms of behaviour and practice from which America was the principal beneficiary, but his unshakable belief in the veracity of his own opinions. Unfortunately for the rest of us, some of his beliefs are consistent even though they are unambiguously wrong and almost certain to create an existential threat to future generations.

What Max missed

Although Weber also lived in tumultuous times, there was one thing he didn’t need to factor into his analysis because it simply wasn’t recognised or understood: climate change. We have no such excuse, of course, unless we choose to ignore the overwhelming scientific evidence and long-standing consensus about the dangers the world faces because of environmental breakdown and instability.

Weber might not have known about climate change but he did recognise there are times when political actors have to take a stand simply because the moment demands it: ‘an ethic of ultimate ends and an ethic of responsibility are not absolute contrasts but rather supplements, which only in unison constitute a genuine man - ­­a man who can have the “calling for politics”’.

It is hard to imagine anyone with less of a sense of responsibility for the common good or a sense of our collective ‘ultimate end’ than Trump. Indeed, he has dismissed climate change as a hoax, and is enacting policies that are certain to make an already catastrophic situation much worse by encouraging fossil fuel use and scrapping regulatory oversight.

The political actors Weber analysed were all nationalists of one sort or another, even if they sometimes cooperated because it was in their perceived national interest to do so. But given that collective action on an historically unprecedented—and frankly unimaginable—scale would seem to be an inescapable necessity if climate change is to be addressed, instrumental nationalism is plainly no longer adequate.

We know that the multilateral institutions specifically created to encourage international environmental cooperation have proved ineffectual, not least because they have been undermined by countries and corporations interested in preserving business as usual. It’s also clear that if the ‘international community’ doesn’t do something soon, civilization itself may be in jeopardy; as it already is in much of the Global South, of course.

Unfortunately, we have too few examples of effective international rather than national leaders of the sort that Weber studied. Al Gore is a reminder that ethical political actors can be undone by their less principled opponents, especially when supported by the highest court in the land. 

Likewise, the United Nations and its admirable Secretary General may be a source of encouraging rhetoric and invaluable scientific evidence, but they have little capacity to influence the behaviour of recalcitrant states. Weber was certainly right about the continuing importance of national power, at least. But perhaps this historical moment will demonstrate the limits of such capacities when confronted with an unambiguously global problem.

The environment upon which we depend also reminds us of the contradictory nature of political agency. For better or worse, material reality will shape us as we shape it. But as Weber cautioned, ‘the materialist interpretation of history is no cab to be taken at will; it does not stop short of the promoters of revolutions’. Perhaps so, but at this historical juncture, that might not be quite as big a problem as he thought.

Mark Beeson, Adjunct Professor, Australia-China Relations Institute, University of Technology Sydney.

Photo by ArtHouse Studio