Virtues Lost and Regained

I’ve been reading a history of American conservatism by Patrick Allitt.   In the chapter on the American Whigs, Allitt speaks of the enduring Whig affinity for the Burkean values of “self-restraint, balance, prudence and the respect for the law and tradition.”

Raised among a small-town merchant family, I lived those values.  I still remember so vividly that palpable sawdust smell that filled my nostrils whenever I walked into my uncles’ or grandfather’s stores on a Saturday morning and the contemplative chatter of customers trying, in the case of my uncles’ business, to settle on the appropriate furniture item or accessory or, in my grandfather‘s, the right appliance.

Their entire lives — and livelihoods — were closely bound up in the nexus of relationships forged over decades among their customers.

This nexus was built on reciprocity: For their willingness to extend grace periods to those who fallen on hard times, to make new deliveries during the most inopportune of times — Thanksgiving and Christmas, for example — and to replace machines that malfunctioned only a few days out of warranty, my relatives were richly rewarded with the enduring loyalty and respect of those they so diligently served.

Self-restraint, balance, prudence — high moral virtue — were closely bound up in these relationships.

More than a decade after his passing, friends and acquaintances will occasionally share memories of my grandfather’s willingness to go the extra mile with customers or to indulge someone — a friend or family member — who had fallen on hard times and wasn’t able to pay off a bill as readily.

The tradition of small business ownership that once commanded a respectable share of economic activity and that underpinned so much of the culture in my hometown is little more than a fading memory, swept away by the tides of global capitalism — a reality reflected in the large, heavily trafficked Super Wal-Mart sitting atop the hill overlooking the valley in which so many of these small businessmen once thrived.

British academic and public policy intellectual Dr. Phillip Blond has described the working-class Liverpool in which he grew up as a genuinely indigenous culture — a description that could just as aptly be applied to my small-town in the 1970s — an indigenous culture that has been almost entirely washed away by these tides.

This is why I was so gratified to read David Brooks’s respectful column about Blond’s efforts to recreate a conservatism committed to the communitarian ethos and entrepreneurialism that once underscored the economic life of town and city alike.

As Blond, a self-described red tory, contends, the strong communitarian spirit that once imbued neighborhood, towns and communities has been buffeted by several revolutionary upheavals that originated at different ends of the political spectrum.  As Brooks explains,

First, there was a revolution from the left: a cultural revolution that displaced traditional manners and mores; a legal revolution that emphasized individual rights instead of responsibilities; a welfare revolution in which social workers displaced mutual aid societies and self-organized associations.
Then there was the market revolution from the right. In the age of deregulation, giant chains like Wal-Mart decimated local shop owners. Global financial markets took over small banks, so that the local knowledge of a town banker was replaced by a manic herd of traders thousands of miles away. Unions withered.

What is to be done?  Three words summarize the Blond credo: remoralize, relocalize and recapitalize — simply put, restore the communitarian bonds and infrastructure throughout town and city.

This would mean passing zoning legislation to give small shopkeepers a shot against the retail giants, reducing barriers to entry for new businesses, revitalizing local banks, encouraging employee share ownership, setting up local capital funds so community associations could invest in local enterprises, rewarding savings, cutting regulations that socialize risk and privatize profit, and reducing the subsidies that flow from big government and big business.

Granted the communitarian values of Blond and red toryism will have a considerably harder time taking root on the less hospitable soil of American individualist liberalism.  But I truly believe that this school of thought has been presented with the best opportunity in years to make a fresh start in America.

I’ve used my professional blog to underscore why I believe that a whole new mindset has taken root in this country — one reflected in an uncharacteristically but growing Americans sense of malaise, coupled with a profound skepticism of the status quo.

Yet, some good may come of it.  Perhaps in this comparatively more fertile soil, a more realistic conservatism can take root.

Social Capital: An Indispensable National Commodity

I credit two of this nation’s leading public intellectuals, David Brooks and Malcolm Gladwell, with instilling me with a deep understanding of and appreciation for social capital — something that I never would have acquired on my own.

Social capital is essentially refined behavior developed over generations, centuries, even millennia as humans work out ways to collaborate with each other.

The form social capital ultimately takes is shaped by a number of factors, often intangibly subtle, if not mind-numbingly complex.  

Many social thinkers, particularly conservative social thinkers, have come to regard it as an indispensable commodity — every bit as valuable to a nation’s success as gold, titanium or immense petroleum reservoirs.  

Throughout history, nations, kingdoms and empires have achieved stunning feats drawing on their deep reservoirs of social capital.

Brooks wrote about one such nation earlier this week: Norway, a nation of only 4.7 million people, which nonetheless managed to win 7 gold Olympic medals, two short of the United States, which encompasses a population of some 300 million.

What accounts for this phenomenal achievement? Brooks credits the small Scandanavian nation’s unique reservoir of social capital, which is notably reflected in the remarkable experiences of  WWII Norwegian freedom fighter Jan Baalsrud.  Norwegians from many different ages and social backgrounds marshaled Baalsrud to safety even as they endured several near-disastrous encounters with their Nazi occupiers. 

The story is not only deeply inspiring but also sheds considerable insight into how the unique conditions in Norwegian culture have contributed to this disproportionate Olympic success, says Brooks.

This astonishing story could only take place in a country where people are skilled on skis and in winter conditions. But there also is an interesting form of social capital on display. It’s a mixture of softness and hardness. Baalsrud was kept alive thanks to a serial outpouring of love and nurturing. At the same time, he and his rescuers displayed an unbelievable level of hardheaded toughness and resilience. That’s a cultural cocktail bound to produce achievement in many spheres.

Writing in his bestselling Outliers, Gladwell contends that an equally remarkable example of overachievement is reflected among the southern Chinese, products of a society that has invested centuries perfecting the cultivation of rice.   

All kinds of intricate steps are involved in rice production.  Paddies require a hard clay floor; otherwise water, so essential to the cultivation of rice, seeps into the ground. Likewise, the claypan has to be engineered to drain well and to ensure that the rice plants are submerged at just the right level. Rice must also be fertilized regularly but in the right amounts.

These are only the beginning of the intricate series of steps associated with rice production and harvest.  Gladwell contends that the highly complex and nuanced patterns of thinking associated with rice production have equipped southern Chinese with a unique facility with mathematics.

I’m thankful that Brooks, Gladwell and other public intellectuals and policy makers are thinking about social capital — not only thinking about it but also working to identify its complex origins and the ways in which it can be nurtured and enhanced.

I think both would agree that within this global economy, social capital should be valued for what it is: an indispensable commodity that to a significant degree measures the success or failure of every society, including ours.