Are these good or bad times for liberalism? On the domestic front, after eight years of the Reagan administration and a presidential campaign in which liberalism became “the L-word,” they seem to be bad times indeed. The same can be said of Margaret Thatcher's Britain. But elsewhere, especially in the Communist world, events and regimes seem to be moving in a liberal direction. China after Tiananmen Square presents a notable exception, of course, but the Communist regimes of the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe are generally moving towards market economies and a greater concern for individual rights and liberties—two of the hallmarks of liberal societies.

Hence the question: Are these good or bad times for liberalism? To answer, we shall need a broader perspective than a survey of contemporary developments can provide. We shall need to look back, that is, to see what liberalism was in order to understand what it has become. Only then can we assess its current condition and prospects—and appreciate how politics in the United States is largely an intramural debate between different wings of liberalism.

Liberalism did not begin as a self-conscious social and political movement. This is evident in the fact that “liberal” did not enter the vocabulary of politics until the early 1800s, at least a century after what we now call liberalism became an important force in political thought and action.

The title of this article is much broader than its subject matter, which discusses political liberalism only and only a selection of the attacks that have been made upon it and some of the responses they have elicited. More specifically, certain large and important topics are almost wholly excluded: to wit, the Marxist attacks, the concept of liberty, and rights and justice.

It will appear as we proceed that the arguments develop on various levels: philosophical (especially epistemological) foundations, practical ethics, and theories of governmental operation. However, these will not be used as the basis of organization in what follows.

Liberalism may be considered as a kind of individualism, a fact that is relied upon by both its proponents and its opponents. Individualism comes in many varieties (see Lukes 1973). Oversimplifying, I shall reduce them to three. The first of these (with which many critics of liberalism identify it) may be called “atomistic” individualism. It represents the extreme view of the priority (both chronologically and in terms of value) of the individual as opposed to society. The works of Thomas Hobbes, F. A. Hayek, and Robert Nozick are representative of this type of theory. They tend to think of the individual as having a fixed nature dominated by rational self-interest, emphasizing the satisfaction of preferences. In the words of Christopher J. Berry, individuals “are depicted variously as alienated, selfish, competitive, possessive, apathetic, and so on” (Berry 1989, 2).

It was hardly surprising that John Rawls' argument that a liberal political theory had to include a commitment to welfare rights was quickly countered by Robert Nozick's contention that welfare rights were incompatible with liberalism's devotion to freedom and private property. This controversy over the relationship between state funded welfare and liberty, especially the liberty to acquire property, has been and is still part of the politics of all advanced industrial nations, including America. As a matter of political fact, however, the welfare interpretation of liberalism has been triumphant. Government programs to alleviate suffering, to increase economic opportunities available to the poor, and to redistribute wealth go hand in hand with representation and civil liberties in virtually all of the advanced industrial nations of the West. That this has occurred, I want to argue here, is entirely consistent with the mainstream of the liberal tradition and ought to be presented that way to students.

The distinction between classical or libertarian liberalism and welfare or the new liberalism emerged at the end of the nineteenth century in England. From the start this distinction was politically charged, meant to imply that the welfare measures enacted particularly during the second Gladstone administration represented a treasonous repudiation of the liberal tradition. Herbert Spencer's The Man Versus the State (1884), little read now but enormously influential then, was most important to spreading this view.

Ideologies are important in modern politics. This is the standard reason political scientists give for studying them. In this article I provide another rationale for the study of ideologies: to promote democracy. This normative argument has been superceded by empirical ones, in part, because of the pejorative connotations of ideology. Those connotations are, however, based upon a selective history and hence an incomplete definition of the term. By reviewing that history, I recover a positive association between ideology and democracy. In the process, I hope to encourage political theorists to teach political ideologies.

The Oxford English Dictionary provides two standard definitions of ideology. The first is descriptive or neutral: ideology is the “science of ideas.” This definition, indeed the word itself, originated with Destutt de Tracy, a French Enlightenment philosopher. The second is critical or deprecatory: ideology is “ideal or abstract speculation” and “unpractical or visionary theorizing.” Napoleon Bonaparte, Tracy's contemporary, first used ideology in this pejorative sense. Both definitions are operative in contemporary political science.

Political scientists who study ideologies as “belief-systems” follow the first definition. For example, standard texts define ideology as “a set of closely related beliefs, or ideas, or even attitudes, characteristic of a group or community” or “a value or belief system accepted as fact or truth by some group.” These texts focus upon the various functions of ideologies, e.g., communication, legitimation, socialization, and especially mobilization.

The standard approach to teaching political philosophy involves the transmission of a given body of information, organized either historically (Plato, Aristotle, St. Thomas, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke, Marx, Nietzsche, etc.) or topically (the state, freedom, equality, human rights, authority, etc.). The aim is to transfer a core of knowledge to the students, whose responsibility is to comprehend the factual material much as they would material in any other course.

The historical and topical approaches to political philosophy are useful in that they allow the student to familiarize himself with the great themes of western (or world) civilization, but they have their limitations. The problem of these approaches, to use an expression of Edmund Husserl's is “sedimentation.” The tradition of philosophy is so covered with generations of silt that it is almost impossible to uncover the original experiences that led to the development of philosophy in the first place. To understand Nietzsche you have to understand Marx; to understand Marx you have to understand Hegel; to understand Hegel you have to understand Kant; to understand Kant you have to understand … ad infinitum until we reach … to understand Aristotle you have to understand Plato, and to understand Plato you have to understand Socrates.

A second approach to political philosophy is more concerned with encouraging students to engage in philosophical reflection than it is in developing the mastery of scholarship encouraged by the first approach. This second approach returns us to the origins of political philosophy.

The study of the American Congress raises compelling issues for both teachers and students in the examination of three interrelated arenas of analysis: Congressional members, Congress as an institution, and the role of Congress in the American political system. Underlying my approach to teaching Congress is a strong emphasis on discussing the role Congress should play in our Madisonian policy process as well as the role of elected representatives in a representative democracy. In many ways, then, a course on Congress or Legislative Politics and Policy making allows the instructor and students to examine the broader operation of the American political system by looking over the shoulders of congressional members as well as Congress as an institution. In doing so, broad structural questions might be addressed: To what extent is a Madisonian framework of government relevant for confronting and solving the policy problems that we currently face and will likely face in the future? What role can (and should) Congress play in addressing issues, such as the deficit, energy and environmental problems, homelessness, education, and covert foreign policy operations? In confronting these questions, I have found that students seek the opportunity to place Congress in an historical context. In doing so, I ask students to examine the three times in this century when Congress has responded to sweeping presidential domestic policy initiatives, including FDR's New Deal (1933-1936), Lyndon Johnson's Great Society programs (1965-1966), and Ronald Reagan's first-term budget and tax cut initiatives (1981).

Among the excellent national simulations available—the Harvard Model UN, Cleveland Model UN, Howard University Model Organization of African States, etc., and several regional models—the best may be the National Model League of Arab States, held annually in March at American University in Washington, DC. Sponsored by the Arab League Information Center and the National Council on U.S.-Arab Relations, the Model (in its seventh year in 1989) imitates the League of Arab States, an organization founded in 1945 for the purpose of coordinating issues related to Arab development and cooperation.

College and university student delegations represent the 22 member states of the Arab nation. As they debate, lobby, and caucus, students learn about the interplay of the state system, international and regional organization, intra-Arab cooperation and conflict, issues of the region, and superpower impact upon the area. As participants gain greater understanding of the culture, concerns, achievements, and problems of the Arab world, they shed stereotypes, question prejudices, and begin to appreciate another perspective on regional issues.

The Model League consists of plenary sessions, five committees (political, economic, social and cultural, legal, and Palestinian affairs), and a summit conference of the League Council. The bulk of time is spent in the committee sessions, where students introduce, debate, and build coalitions in support of resolutions. In the process, they practice parliamentary procedure and sharpen forensic and bargaining skills. Faculty advisors evaluate the delegations and nominate individuals for awards.

One of the most difficult aspects of teaching a comparative politics course is getting students to “feel” the politics of a nation they have not visited. Students may be able to repeat what they have learned from a comparative politics text; but such rote learning does not guarantee understanding. Students need to place material in context. Indeed, this quite visually-oriented generation needs to “see” material for reinforcement.

For the teacher of British Politics (or of a Western European course emphasizing Britain), a unique and affordable resource is available. C-SPAN visited London in November and December of 1988. The interviews they completed with British politicos is available through Purdue University's video archives.

I used a series of these tapes to supplement my lectures in a Summer 1989 course I taught on Contemporary British Politics. While I made no attempt to measure it, my feeling is that these tapes (together with the usual textbook assignments and numerous copies of articles from British newspapers) gave the students, a much better understanding of British politics than that normally evidenced in such courses taught in American colleges. For American students, it was almost like “being there”; they witnessed the House of Lords in action; they saw the Queen's Speech at the Opening of Parliament; and they had the functional equivalent of class visits with some notable British political figures.

Professors Rosati, Schlozman and Conradt offered some interesting views on the United States Government and Politics advanced placement examination in the Fall issue of The Political Science Teacher. I would like to add a few comments to the discussion. My remarks are based on my experience teaching 144 Kingswood-Oxford AP government seniors over the three years of the test, as well as my contact with other AP teachers. I have led the U.S. Government and Politics workshop at the 1988 and 1989 Northeast Regional Conference on the Social Studies, where I have had a chance to talk with many teachers who are offering AP courses.

First, Professor Rosati identifies the inadequate background of some high school AP Government and Politics teachers as a significant problem. While all the teachers I have encountered seem well qualified, I concede that inadequately prepared staff may be a problem. Undoubtedly, the most concerned are the teachers themselves: no teacher enjoys groping his or her way through unfamiliar material for a semester, with the added pressure of awaiting AP results which may reveal clearly the gaps in the course. Professor Schlozman suggests a remedy which I feel should be underscored. Workshops and institutes are helpful, although not all can attend and they are over in a few days or weeks. More useful is an on-going reliable relationship between a high school AP teacher and a college professor who is familiar with the introductory American government course.