Theoria

This edition of Theoria speaks to the dynamics of globalization, to the nature and scope of democracy and democratic consolidation, and to the challenge of grounding authority, both sacral and ‘secular’. These themes have become especially resonant at a historical moment when religious fundamentalism has, in the context of increasing global interconnectedness, become more ‘present’, and when capitalist modernization has come increasingly to be broadly legitimated in the language of ‘democratic consolidation’.

Constitutional politics has returned in our time in a truly dramatic way. In the last 25 years, not only in the new or restored democracies of South and East Europe, Latin America and Africa, but also in the established liberal or not so liberal democracies of Germany, Italy, Japan, Israel, New Zealand, Canada and Great Britain, issues of constitution- making, constitutional revision and institutional design or redesign have been put on the political agenda. Even in the United States, given the new or renewed problems of our versions of presidentialism, federalism and electoral regime, Article V has come to be experienced as a veritable prison house, and judicial constitutionmaking (think of Buckley v Valejo) is often seen as much as a threat to, as the protection of, democratic mechanisms. And, most recently, in countries currently experiencing externally imposed revolutions1, namely Afghanistan and Iraq, constitution-making has turned out to be a central stake in the ongoing political process. We are living in an epoch in which the nations seem to be slouching, or being prodded, toward Philadelphia and Americans, as the heirs of Madison and MacArthur, are sorely tempted to try teaching others the secrets of its success as a supposedly continuous 200-year-old constitutional democracy. But to be an effective teacher, it is not enough to be in a position of political-military superiority. One must first relearn to learn and even to re-learn.

There are two theses that are intimately related to the idea of authority. One is political theology. It is associated with the name of Carl Schmitt. The second is moral theology. It is associated with Elizabeth Anscombe (though she never used the expression ‘moral theology’). Political theology is the claim that key notions in modern and secular political doctrines are unwittingly moored in theological and teleological world views. These notions in their secularized versions make no sense and can be validated only within a theological frame for which they were designed. ‘Sovereignty’ and ‘authority’ are paradigmatic cases of such key notions. Moral theology is a parallel claim. Key moral notions in modern moral doctrines are moored in a theological and teleological frame. They gain their currency only in such a frame. Unmoored, as these notions are in a current secular frame, they have lost their sense. ‘Obligation’ and ‘duty’ are paradigmatic examples of such notions anchored in the old idea of God the law-giver. Without God the law-giver these notions make very little sense. Secular morality is like the famous explanation of what wireless is. Well, you know what wire is. It is like a dog: you pull its tail in Jerusalem and it barks in Rome. Now, wireless works like wire, but without the dog. Morality without God is like wireless without the dog.

Modernity, modern civilization, the cultural and political programmes of modernity, have been often seen as epitomizing a break from religion; as heralding the rise of the secular age in which religion and the sacred have been relegated to the private sphere, or to the margins of society.

The world being one is a perennial dream of humanity. Since we are a single species, ideally and logically, there should be all-embracing justice and a better life for all. Should this vision come to pass, the material, political, cultural, and religious differences among human beings could be to at least some degree reconciled, and prospects for lasting peace greatly enhanced. Threatened by unsolved world problems, we might thus begin to consider the prospect of a global authority, a political organization that would transcend the nationstate and could bring about the unity of humankind, global justice, and earthly peace. Like Thomas Magnell, we might start to believe that ‘the predicament of vulnerability of nation-states calls for a global authority with sufficient power to redress or prevent attacks on themselves’.1 Accepting an elaborate argument of Alexander Wendt, we might even come to think that such an authority and a universal world state were inevitable.

It is clear from these and other definitions that development, no matter how it is conceived, involves change. However, it is also clear that not all change constitutes development. A particular change could be part of a process of development, but could also be part of several other processes, such as those of alteration, modification, deformation, adaptation, regression, degradation and the like. Thus it is necessary to differentiate between changes that can be said to be part of a process of development, and those that cannot. In an attempt to make such a distinction and in line with the above-mentioned definitions of development one could say that changes that are part of development are changes that bring about increased likeness to some more advanced or better state of being. A six-year-old child who, after years of talking, becomes mute is regressing rather than developing; and a child whose behaviour changes such that she begins to act like a dog would be considered to be in some kind of disordered state. However, when a child’s behaviour undergoes changes that lead to increased similarity to some conception of adult behaviour, then that child can be said to be developing. When assessing whether changes in a child’s behaviour constitute development, or some other kind of process, one has to have in mind some conception of what the child ought to be becoming.

The theme of this article is the threat—and the opportunities—posed to progressive aspirations by the phenomenon that has come to be known as globalization. A decade ago the term globalization was a novelty both in academic circles and in the popular press. Now, no discussion of economics or political debate seems complete without reference to it. And the recent attacks of Al Qaeda and the invasion of Iraq push the problems of an international legal order and the potential universality of the rights of man to the top of the agenda. Yet in its essence globalization is not a recent—or even a 20th century—phenomenon. The view that globalization is no new phenomenon has some substance. Many commentators have pointed to the level of international trade in the decades before World War.1 And some have thought of ancient Greco-Roman civilization as an instance of globalization— was it not appealed to by St Augustine in his opinion that ‘secrus judicat orbis terrarium’? This is true in the sense that the Roman Empire provided political and legal systems in which diverse nations and cultures could be to an impressive extent integrated. But it was not global: consider the contemporary but separate empires in China, India and possibly South America. Globalization in the literal sense of the word has to do with the rise of capitalism.

Asymmetrical Warfare: Today’s Challenge to U.S. Military Power, by Roger W. Barnett. Washington DC: Brasseys Inc., 2003. ISBN 1574885634.

Humane Warfare, by Christopher Coker. London: Routledge, 2001. ISBN 0415255767.

The Heart of War: On Power, Conflict and Obligation in the Twenty- First Century, by Gwyn Prins. London: Routledge, 2002. ISBN 0415369606.

Climate of Fear: The Quest for Dignity in a Dehumanized World (The BBC Reith Lectures) Derek Hook

Racism: A Short History Clifford L. Staples

Notes on the Contributors