The Metaphysics of Self-realisation and Freedom: Part 1 of The Liberal Socialism of Thomas Hill Green

The Metaphysics of Self-realisation and Freedom

Part 1 of The Liberal Socialism of Thomas Hill Green

Colin Tyler

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‘Apropos of someone feeling an acute morbid sense of being wicked. Poor fellow, said Green, the sense of Sin is very much an illusion. People are not as bad as they fancy themselves.’

John Addington Symonds to Charlotte Byron Green, 7 October 1882

‘the feeling of oppression, which always goes along with the consciousness of unfulfilled possibilities, will always give meaning to the representation of the effort after any kind of self-improvement as a demand for freedom.’

T.H. Green, ‘On the Different Senses of Freedom as Applied to Will and to the Moral Progress of Man’, §18

‘social life is to personality what language is to thought.’

T.H. Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, §183

‘we only find unity in the world because we have an idea that it is there, an idea which we direct our powers to realise’

T.H. Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, §149

Preface

I was introduced to Green’s political thought by Peter Nicholson, while a Master’s student at the University of York between 1991 and 1992. I had been looking for a philosophical theory that combined coherently John Stuart Mill’s liberalism with Hegel’s conception of the state as an ethical community. I found in Green an approach that achieved this, although I now see as do many others, it is more helpfully conceived as combining Aristotle’s eudaimonism with Fichtean form of Kantian ethics. The greater complexities of Green’s intellectual debts are explored below (§§2.II–III). There was very little mainstream academic interest in Thomas Hill Green when I began my Master’s dissertation. In part, this was due to his poor reputation in the philosophical mainstream, usually among people who had read little if anything of his actual writings. This low estimate was also due in part to the systematic nature of Green’s philosophy, something that means that one can only really begin to make sense of any particular aspect of his philosophy once one understands something of that complex, internally-differentiated system. In this sense, the systematic nature of his philosophy makes it more difficult to consider particular discrete issues and problems. Unfortunately, problem-solving is the preferred subject-matter of most contemporary philosophers, at least in the Anglo-American world. Another serious hindrance to a wider acceptance of Green’s philosophy is the need to begin with a careful, time-consuming, scholarly interpretation of his texts, a requirement viewed apparently with suspicion by many Anglo-American philosophers.[1] Finally and also very importantly, Green’s arguments are inherently difficult, something that is compounded by his frequently prolix philosophical writing style.

Against all these odds, Green’s standing among philosophers has improved slowly since the late 1990s, due not least to the inauguration in 2003 of the Imprint Academic series on Green of which the present book is a part. Unfortunately, the revival of interest in Green’s philosophy was only just beginning when I completed my doctorate (supervised by Peter Nicholson) at the end of 1995, and it was gaining momentum only slowly when my thesis was published in a largely unaltered form towards the end of 1997.[2] I have continued to work on the British idealists since that time, and in spite of what I am very pleased to say were uniformly positive reviews, I have always had a nagging awareness that the book was unfinished business. I am, therefore, very grateful to Keith Sutherland and Imprint Academic not only for agreeing to publish this very extensively revised version of the work, but also for agreeing to divide what has become a very long manuscript into two discrete books, as parts of a critical analysis of what I see now as Green’s liberal socialism.

The present book, The Metaphysics of Self-realisation and Freedom, is based on the introduction and first two chapters of the original thesis/book. Yet, I have treated the original purely as a draft, and have not felt bound to retain any of it. Simply in terms of quantity however, it is now more than three times the length (in terms of words) of the original. The new material that has been introduced is of three broad types. First, I have attempted to deepen my critical analysis, and to correct errors of interpretation, logic, grammar and style. Second, I have attempted to consider all of the major scholarship that has appeared since 1997. Third, I have made use of the previously unpublished manuscripts that several of us have made available in the past thirteen years. As a result of these great many additions, much of the text is completely new, including almost all of the first two chapters, as well as chapters seven, eight and nine. Chapters three and four have also been largely rewritten and restructured, while chapters five and six have been heavily revised and greatly extended. In fact, the resulting book differs so significantly in length, argument and depth from the material in the original version that it constitutes a new work.[3]

I have incurred a great many intellectual debts during the preparation of this book. As well as supervising my doctorate from 1992 to 1995, Peter Nicholson has continued to provide his usual invaluable expertise, insight and support, both as editor of this Imprint Academic series, and through his own writings on Green and the idealists. The same is true of Bill Mander and Maria Dimova-Cookson. Indeed, Bill and Peter offered many comments on earlier drafts of this book, as have Owen Fellows and Sean Magee, two of my doctoral students. I am particularly grateful to each of these scholars for this time-consuming input. While Bill, Maria, Peter and I disagree on many issues regarding Green, some of them fundamental, it is one of the great strengths of the community of scholars working on the British idealists and New Liberals at the present time that we can debate our differences fully and frankly, while still listening carefully to each other. My criticisms of the existing scholarship in this book are offered in that spirit. I am also grateful to Jim Connelly and Noël O’Sullivan, my colleagues in the Centre for the Study of British Idealism at the University of Hull. My sincere thanks go also to others at Hull and beyond, some of whom have commented on earlier drafts of this material and especially James Allard, David Boucher, Thom Brooks, Glenn Burgess, Alberto de Sanctis, Claire Hairsine, Denys Leighton, Justin Morris, Avital Simhony, Pip Tyler, Will Tyler, Andrew Vincent, Dave Weinstein and Richard Woodward. I also wish to reaffirm my gratitude to the following people, whom I thanked in the original thesis: Diane Adams, Richard Bellamy, Steve Benson, Jenny Bradford, Dave Brittan, Frank Brogan, Alex Callinicos, Matt Carter, Steve Cinderby, Richard Cookson, John Horton, Natalie Humphreys, Linda Lofthouse, Andy McLellan, Sue Mendus, Andrea Micocci, Caroline Moore, Jeremy Nolan, Massimo Paradiso, Gill Pulpher, Rod Rhodes, Giuseppe Tassone, Andrew Tesseyman, and Angie Wilson.

I have carried out a significant amount of archival work for this new book, and in this regard I am pleased to thank the Master and Fellows of Balliol College, Oxford for their permission to consult and quote from their holdings of Green’s papers. I also wish to thank the Principal and Fellows of St. John’s College, Oxford, for their hospitality during my time as a Visiting Scholar with them in the summer of 2007.

As always however, by far my greatest and yet least tangible debts are owed to Pip, my wife, and of course to Lucy, our cat, for their continuing love, support and patience. This book is dedicated to my mother Edna and my brother Will, as well as to the memory of my father, Bill.

Of course, I alone am responsible for the use made of this assistance.

Colin Tyler

University of Hull

9 March 2010

1 See David Weinstein’s very apposite remarks on this subject in his Utilitarianism and the New Liberalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), pp. 1–4.

2 Colin Tyler, Thomas Hill Green (1836–1882) and the Philosophical Foundations of Politics: An internal critique (Lampeter and Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen, 1997).

3 Hopefully, it will differ from the original in one other crucial respect: the book distributor’s warehouse burnt down the day after it received the first printing of the original book!

Abbreviations

References within this book are given in the following format: §[chapter].[section]

Items referenced by section number are listed below followed by an asterisk. All other references are to page numbers. The following abbreviations are also used below:

‘Harris’ = Paul Harris and John Morrow, eds., T H Green: Lectures on the Principles of Political Obligation and Other Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1986).

‘Works’ = R.L. Nettleship and Peter P. Nicholson, eds., Works of Thomas Hill Green, 5 vols. (Bristol: Thoemmes, 1997)

Writings of Thomas Hill Green

‘Aristotle’: ‘Philosophy of Aristotle’, Works III, pp. 46–91.

‘Christian Dogma’: ‘Essay on Christian Dogma’, Works III, pp. 161–85.

‘Conversion of Paul’: ‘Conversion of Paul (Extract from lectures on the epistle to the Galatians)’, Works III, pp. 186–9.

DSF: ‘On the Different Senses of Freedom as Applied to Will and the Moral Progress of Man’, Harris, pp. 228–49.*

‘Elementary’: ‘Two Lectures on The Elementary School System of England’ [1878], Works III, pp. 413–55.

Ellerton 1: ‘1860 Ellerton Essay: Life and Immortality brought to light by the Gospel’, Works V, pp. 57–81.

Ellerton 2: ‘1861 Ellerton Essay: The State of Religious Belief among the Jews at the Time of the Coming of Christ’, Works V, pp. 83–104.

‘English Revolution’: ‘Four Lectures on the English Commonwealth’, Works III, pp. 277–364.

‘Faith’: ‘Faith: Address on 2 Corinthians v. 7’, Works III, pp. 253–76.

FC: ‘Force of Circumstances’, Works III, pp. 3–10.

‘Grading’: ‘Lecture on the Grading of Secondary Schools’, Works III, pp. 387–412.

‘Hedonism’: ‘Hedonism and the Ultimate Good’, Mind, vol. 2, no. 6 o.s. (April 1877), 266–69.

‘Hodgson’: ‘An Answer to Mr. Hodgson’, Works I, pp. 521–41.

‘Hume I’: ‘Introductions to Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature: I. General Introduction’, Works I, pp. 1–299.*

‘Hume II’: ‘Introduction to the Moral Part of Hume’s Treatise’, Works I, pp. 301–71.*

ICG: ‘The Influence of Civilisation on Genius’, Works III, pp. 11–9.

‘Immortality’: ‘Fragment on Immortality’, Works III, pp. 159–60.

‘Incarnation’: ‘Incarnation (Extract from lectures on the Fourth Gospel)’, Works III, pp. 207–20.

IPR: ‘Review of J. Caird, Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion’, Works III, pp. 138–46.

‘Kant’: ‘Lectures on the Philosophy of Kant’, Works II, pp. 2–155.*

‘Legislative interference’: ‘Legislative interference in moral matters’, Harris, pp. 306–9.

‘Lewes I’: ‘Mr. Lewes’ Account of Experience’, Works I, pp. 442–70.*

‘Lewes II’: ‘Mr. Lewes’ Account of the Social Medium’, Works I, pp. 471–520.*

LLFC: ‘Lecture on Liberal Legislation and Freedom of Contract’, Harris, pp. 194–212.

‘Logic’: ‘Lectures on Logic’, Works II, pp. 157–366.*

‘Loyalty’: ‘Loyalty’, Harris, pp. 304–6.

‘Moral Philosophy’: ‘Notes on Moral Philosophy’, Harris, pp. 310–3.*

‘Oxford High School’: ‘Lecture on The Work to be Done by the New Oxford High School for Boys’, Works III, pp. 456–76.

PE: Prolegomena to Ethics, A.C. Bradley, ed., Works IV.*

‘Pleasure’: ‘Pleasure as the Chief Good’, in Colin Tyler, ed., Unpublished Manuscripts in British Idealism: Political philosophy, theology and social thought, 2 vols. (London and New York: Thoemmes Continuum, 2005; Exeter and Charlottesville, VA: Imprint Academic, 2008), vol. 1, pp. 82–87.

‘Pol. Econ.’: ‘Notes on ancient and modern political economy’, Harris, pp. 313–17.*

‘Popular Philosophy’: ‘Popular Philosophy in its Relation to Life’, Works III, pp. 92–125.

PPO: ‘Lectures on the Principles of Political Obligation’, Harris, pp. 13–193.*

‘Rev. Caird’s Kant’: Review of E. Caird, ‘Philosophy of Kant’, Works III, pp. 126–37.

‘Sittlichkeit’: ‘Metaphysic of Ethics, Moral Psychology, Sociology or the Science of Sittlichkeit’, in Colin Tyler, ed., Unpublished Manuscripts in British Idealism: Political philosophy, theology and social thought, 2 vols. (London and New York: Thoemmes Continuum, 2005; Exeter and Charlottesville, VA: Imprint Academic, 2008), vol. 1, pp. 14–71.

‘Spencer I’: ‘Mr. Spencer on the Relation of Subject and Object’, Works I, pp. 373–409.*

‘Spencer II’: ‘Mr. Spencer on the Independence of Matter’, Works I, pp. 410–41.*

‘Watson’: ‘Review of J Watson, Kant and his English Critics’ [1881], Works III, pp. 147–58.

WG: ‘Witness of God’: Address on 1 Corinthians v. 7, 8’, Works III, pp. 230–52.

WNT: ‘Fragment of An Address on Romans x. 8, The Word is Nigh Thee’, Works III, pp. 221–29.

‘Works of Finction’: ‘The Value and Influence of Works of Fiction in Modern Times’, Works III, pp. 20–45.

1. Introduction to The Liberal Socialism of Thomas Hill Green

I. Aim and Scope of The Liberal Socialism of Thomas Hill Green

The past decade or so has seen something of a renaissance of scholarly interest in the life and thought of Thomas Hill Green (1836–1882). Historians have done much to overcome the previous dominance in British idealist historiography of Melvin Richter’s Politics of Conscience, a book which no matter how important and impressive it remains as a scholarly achievement, reflected strongly its own cultural prejudices and especially the prejudices that caricatured the Victorians in various ways.[1] Philosophers with particular interest in British idealism and New Liberalism have subjected Green’s philosophical arguments themselves to rigorous assessment.[2] Philosophers such as David Brink, Gerald Gaus, T.H. Irwin and John Skorupski who have different primary research interests have also produced very interesting work on various aspects of Green’s system.[3] Both the historians and the philosophers have been helped by the significant amount of previously unpublished material that has appeared in the past few years.[4] The new scholarly consensus is that his thought is much more resilient and interesting than was previously alleged.

This book presents a philosophical analysis and critique of the first stages of Green’s mature thought, with a special emphasis on what can be characterised as the theory of the individual in his liberal socialism. As such it makes only passing reference to the new historical scholarship. It argues that Green produced a largely coherent and detailed analysis of the metaphysical structure of human consciousness, and that, on the basis of this analysis, he developed powerful ethical and political philosophies with radical implications for the existing structure of society and politics. It defends these claims through a close analysis of Green’s published and unpublished writings. It begins with a critical analysis of his influences and his conception of philosophical system-building (chapter two), and of his ‘metaphysics of experience or knowledge’ (chapters three and four), before moving to his theory of the will (chapters five and six), and his theory of the true good (chapters seven and eight). Chapter nine offers a provisional summary of Green’s metaphysics of self-realisation and freedom, before responding to John Skorupski’s reading of Green’s theory of personal good as a prelude to a rebuttal of G.E. Moore’s critique of Green’s allegedly metaphysical ethics and the worldview that underlies it. This response lays the foundations for the discussion of his writings on civil society, capitalism and the state, in the second part of The Liberal Socialism of T.H. Green.[5]

The present chapter introduces this discussion by sketching the various leading scholarly assessments of Green’s socialist credentials (§1.II), before examining in some detail his own stated attitude to socialism. Finally (§1.III), an indication is given of the reasons for understanding his philosophical system as justifying a form of ‘liberal socialism’.

II. Green and the Socialist Tradition

Ultimately, Green constructed what R.L. Nettleship called ‘a working theory of life.’[6] (See §7.IV.) The general character of this theory has been a matter of intense debate. Liberal scholars have tended to characterise Green as an aspirant but inadequate liberal. The following analysis suggests that there is another more illuminating way to categorise his thought: namely, as a form of ‘liberal socialism’. In itself, this is controversial. Some have argued that, in Vincent Knapp’s words, ‘Green’s doctrine of the exorability of [private] property did run counter to accepted laissez-faire dogmas, but it was in no way socialistic’.[7] In opposition to this view, James Kloppenberg and others have claimed that Green ‘self-consciously and painstakingly drew connections between knowledge, responsibility, and reform, and [his] political writings represent an important, intermediate step in the convergence of socialism and liberalism towards social democracy and progressivism.’[8] Neither Knapp nor Kloppenberg were the first nor the last to come to their respective contradictory conclusions.[9] In 1880, the English translator of Marx’s Capital Edward Aveling, argued that advanced radicals, especially those like Green of a republican cast, were ripe for conversion to socialism, by which he meant his own form of Marxism.[10] Most recently, scholars have tended to stress the kinship between Green’s position and ‘ethical socialism’ or ‘social democracy’, with the former Deputy Leader of the UK Labour Party Roy Hattersley refering to him as ‘the only genuine philosopher English social democracy ever possessed’, a position echoed by at least one other Labour MP.[11]

The dispute over Green’s radical credentials arises in part from the contested nature of the generic concept of ‘socialism’ itself. It is understandable therefore that the most successful discussions have sought to locate theories within a defining although unstructured field of tendencies or commitments rather than insisting on a single definition.[12] The problem is however that even if such conceptual markers can help map particular ideological movements at particular times and places, they are usually so general that they offer few insights into particular thinkers.[13] A more fruitful starting-point (although it can be only a starting-point) is to reconstruct the respective positions of individuals who either identified themselves as socialists, or who were identified as such by others, so as to indicate the senses in which the individual could be called a socialist.[14]

The particularity of the reading defended in this book can be brought out by contrasting it briefly here (and at various points in the rest of the book) with that set out by the most recent and most sustained defender of the ‘ethical socialist’ reading. Matt Carter, himself the General Secretary of the Labour Party from December 2003 to November 2005, has argued that Green was an ‘ethical socialist’. Carter associates this doctrine with two main claims: it ‘places individual moral development and character above simple state reforms’; and it ‘holds that individuals are bound together through organic social relations that mean individuals can reach their potential only through the help of others.’[15] For Carter, ethical socialism is a doctrine that links liberalism and socialism through the presence in certain strands of these respective doctrines of a ‘group of influential shared concepts: such as, the common good, positive freedom and equality of opportunity.’[16] More precisely, Carter bases his case on the following claims.

The essential features of this new idealist-inspired ideology were: a belief in a common good, which could unite the interests of different individuals; the support for equality of opportunity, to help create a less class-ridden society; a positive view of liberty, meaning more than simply freedom from interference; and the belief in the role of the state as more than a policeman, but as the representative of the whole community and able to help shape social conditions for the better. It is these features which distinguished the idealists’ work from traditional liberalism, and these elements which they turned into a justification for socialism.’[17]

Carter’s summary of Green’s position is accurate as far as it goes.[18] Yet, it fails to place due weight on the fact that Green saw individual conscientious self- determination and personal responsibility as the central, necessary features of a virtuous, ‘free life’. In this sense, Carter’s account understates significantly Green’s acute consciousness of the danger that inappropriate state action would create what is now termed a ‘culture of dependency’. The liberal elements of Green’s position spring in large part from this deep concern. The phrase ‘liberal socialism’ is adopted here in relation to Green in order to minimize the danger that if he is styled as an ethical socialist, he is more likely to be read as holding that the state can make its citizens moral and that it must actively educate them to act well, and subsequently ‘monitor’ their performance.[19] The point at issue is the lack of trust implied in that vision, something that stands in opposition to the presumption of competence on which Green builds his political theory, not least as that was reflected in his advocacy of franchise reform at the time of the Second Reform Act (1867).[20]

The difference may seem to be merely one of emphasis, but in reality it is very important, not least because it implies very different presumptions regarding the appropriate way to determine the area of legitimate state action. Green’s principled socialist pragmatism includes not a merely contingent attachment to liberal freedoms, but an essential one. ‘Liberal’ is the necessary qualifier of ‘socialism’. At the heart of his theory stands the value of individual self-development, and a sophisticated relational ontology of the individual self, combined with a commitment to moral individualism which anticipates contemporary liberal philosophy, for example as espoused by Joseph Raz and his followers.[21] These philosophical commitments produce practical tendencies. Hence, for Green, the state should concern itself primarily with the removal of hindrances to the individual’s own efforts to develop themselves according to their respective understandings of what their development would consist in. He resists attempts to intervene positively to push individuals to make particular choices regarding which actions to perform and which plans to pursue. The state can address external impediments to individual self-realisation then, such as arise out of abusive terms and conditions at work, while leaving individuals to act on their own internal conscientious assessments of their best interests as beings with higher capacities. It is for this reason that I believe in spite of the undeniably strong and essential moral facets of Green’s position, the term ‘liberal socialism’ is more apposite than Carter’s ‘ethical socialism’.

These liberal elements informed Green’s expressed attitude to the socialism of his day. While ‘socialism’ was hotly debated and positions were staked out with some clarity in Britain in the late 1880s and the early 1890s, aside from the Marxists and the French traditions of Fourier and Saint-Simon the term’s meanings had been rather less clear in the immediately preceding years.[22] This is especially true of Green’s own understanding of ‘socialism’. That may go some way to explaining why he uses the word very rarely. It does not appear in any of the writings published before or shortly after his death. In the ‘Notes on Ancient and Modern Political Economy’ (which Nicholson dates to sometime between 1866 and 1875, when Green was a Greats tutor), Green describes ‘practical socialism in modern times’ in minimal terms, as the ‘doctrine (a) that wages should be regulated otherwise than by competition ([i.e] competition of labourers for employment and of masters to get work done most cheaply and quickly), and (b) that accumulation of capital should be limited.’[23] In commenting on this passage, Green stresses the importance of what would now be called structural adjustment problems, focusing particularly on the effects of the fluidity of capital relative to that of labour, and especially on the resulting unemployment, poverty and resentment felt toward the capitalists by the labourers. Hence he criticises the ‘folly of Louis Napoleon in trying to keep socialists quiet by attracting rich people to Paris’, a policy pursued between 1853 and 1870.[24]

During a trip to Dresden in 1862, Green praised the German people, writing in a letter, that ‘The social equality, and the apparent absence of vice and distress, relieve one’s soul from many burdens, and personally I don’t much mind about the stagnation.’[25] This view underpinned his remarks in a letter he sent during a similar visit in 1863. Nettleship reported the following, quoting a now-lost letter from Green.

In the following year he was at Heidelberg, very apprehensive about the prospects of Germany, where Bismarck’s ordinance against the press had shorn the liberal papers of leading articles. Yet he had confidence in the future of Prussia, for the soldiers can all read, and the artisans (who are strong at Berlin, though I fear not elsewhere) seem to be free from the worse forms of socialism, and under the guidance of Schulze-Delitsch to be developing schemes of co-operation and self-help.[26]

In part, Green may have been cautious about the socialists of the day because many were atheists, especially on the Continent. One might think here of positivists, not least Comtists, who characterised their social theory and politics in mechanical rather than the spiritual terms that one finds in the Italian republican Guiseppe Mazzini, one of the great influences on Green.[27] In 1881, he expressed his hostility to the French radical minister Paul Bert for being a ‘medical Atheist’, and, in England, he would have no doubt been aware of the likes of Henry Myers Hyndman.[28] One must be careful however, as while atheists tended to be political radicals, not all atheists were socialists.[29] Moreover, Green had been influenced as a young man by Christian Socialists such as F.D. Maurice and Charles Kingsley (see §2.III).

In spite of Green’s apparent reservations regarding socialism, the poet J.A. Symonds, one of Green’s closest friends for the whole of his adult life and latterly his brother-in-law, was unequivocal regarding Green’s socialist credentials. The root of Green’s radicalism Symonds found in what he called on one occasion, ‘his religious instincts & sympathy with the people, refined & fortified by reflection’.[30] He wrote to his sister, Green’s widow, on this subject in November 1886.

Green’s practical grasp on political conditions & his sympathy with the vast masses of a nation, the producers & bread-makers, the taxpayers & inadequately represented, strike all alike. Personally I may say that he inducted me into the philosophy of democracy & socialism - not in any sentimental or visionary or reactionary way - but on the grounds on wh[ich] both democracy & socialism are active factors in modern politics. I should say that in this respect he showed a singular statesmanlike faculty - the faculty of feeling by a kind of penetrative insight that modern society had ripened to a point at wh[ich] the principles of democracy & socialism had to be accepted as actualities.[31]

Even though both Symonds and Green were concerned by ‘crude socialistic revolutionary movements’, they sought the lessening of class-distinctions (‘the blending of Social Strata’) so as to bring about what Symonds called the ‘right sort of Socialism’.[32] In this regard, Green conceptualises the good individual as the respectable citizen or yeoman, or what Symonds refers to as Green’s ‘own conception of manly sober citizenship’.[33] This core value has affinities to both republicanism and some forms of socialism, such as those supported by Christian socialists.[34] It underpins his aspiration that the English education system should be restructured so that

every ... citizen will have open to him at least the precious companionship of the best books in his own language, and the knowledge necessary to make him really independent; when all who have a special taste for learning will have open to them what has hitherto been unpleasantly called the education of gentlemen. I confess to hoping for a time when that phrase will have lost its meaning, because the sort of education which alone makes the gentleman in any true sense will be within the reach of all. As it was the aspiration of Moses that all the Lord’s people should be prophets, so with all seriousness and reverence we may hope and pray for a condition of English society in which all honest citizens will recognise themselves and be recognised by each other as gentlemen.[35]

This section has indicated that Green’s failure to align himself explicitly with ‘socialism’ may have a number of causes. Not least, it must be remembered that in the 1870s and 1880s, the term tended to refer to political systems based on social engineering and control by ‘industriels’, ‘phalanxes’ or the state, as advocated by followers of the positivists Charles Fourier, Claude-Henri de Saint-Simon and Auguste Comte.[36] Green feared that this type of socialism would destroy the possibility of a positively free life by crushing the subjective freedom of the individual, including their collective action in and through voluntary associations and decentralised political action.[37] In fact, Green’s reservations regarding socialism echo strongly Guiseppe Mazzini’s vigorous defence of cooperative republicanism over socialism’s allegedly elitist and centralising tendencies.[38] Indeed, one finds Mazzini himself raising much the same objections against ‘socialism’ on precisely the grounds that it denies the ‘essential elements of human life - such as Religion, Association, Liberty’ and private property.[39] Yet, one can still be a socialist without being a positivist of any of the types that concern Mazzini, as Green’s liberal socialism proves.

III. Green’s ‘Liberal Socialism’

In recent times, several prominent politicians and political philosophers have referred to themselves as ‘liberal socialists’.[40] Noberto Bobbio adopts the phrase from an Italian tradition that can be traced back to the idealist Benedetto Croce and the inter-war liberal socialists Piero Gobetti, Guido Calogero and Carlo Rosselli.[41] Bobbio uses the label to denote a form of politics characterised by an endorsement of liberal democratic forms of, in Bellamy’s formulation, ‘constitutionalism, parliamentarism, and a competitive multi-party system’ combined with a greater democratisation and decentralisation of political and economic institutions and, thereby, claims Bobbio, a greater democratisation and decentralisation of collective power more generally.[42]

While endorsing key aspects of Bobbio’s position, the agonal theorist Chantal Mouffe has criticised what she sees as Bobbio’s atomistic assumptions: ‘It is necessary to theorize the individual, not as a monad, an unencumbered self that exists prior to and independently of society’.[43] Her own alternative ‘liberal socialism’ attempts to ground a pluralistic model of the self on a postmodern ontology, such that the individual is conceived ‘as a site constituted by an ensemble of subject positions, inscribed in a multiplicity of social relations, the member of many communities and participant in a plurality of collective forms of identification.’ Yet, this alternative ontology has itself attracted significant criticism, not least from those concerned by the individual’s apparent passivity in the determination of their own concrete identities, which is implied by the notion of the individual being ‘a site constituted’ by social forces, and by the apparently attendant conception of the pre-social self as an empty husk lacking inherent expressible human needs. One very significant concern is that Mouffe’s rejection of anything approaching what she understands to be ‘essentialism’ means that she is unable to conceptualise adequately individual alienation, itself one of the key facets of any adequate theory of oppression and, by extension, of any adequate theory of an enriching and just social order.

Consequently, while Mouffe is correct to reject ontological atomism, many of her critics worry that her alternative to this implied determinate essentialism seems to collapse into a largely vacuous conception of the self in which the individual’s multiple identities are imposed by the social relations in which one finds oneself. Hence, the self becomes a potentially chaotic amalgam of ‘subject positions’. What is needed is a conception of the self that has an essential core of abstractly-specified universal needs and rationalising tendencies, which still leaves sufficient space to conceptualise the influence that the individual’s various social activities exert in the construction of their determinate personalities.

Another possible route when seeking a viable form of liberal socialism would be to return to earlier philosophers, such as John Stuart Mill and Leonard T. Hobhouse.[44] Recently, Bruce Baum has argued for Mill’s credentials as a liberal socialist, on the grounds that towards the end of his life at least he ‘advanced a form of cooperative liberal democratic market socialism’.[45] Baum argues that Mill believed such a position would accord due respect simultaneously to ‘individual freedom, decentralized power, and industrial democracy within a market economy’.[46] Mill’s acceptance of the legitimacy of