I write this at a time when many Americans are confused about what America stands for. Many of the courageous souls who still call themselves “liberals” find that they are without bearings. The ideals that had guided them since the 1930s and through the postwar decades seem less clear, and the premises of public debate in recent years, strangely disorienting. Many who call themselves “conservatives,” although more confident in their assertions than at any time since the start of the New Deal, are bedeviled by the possibility that their self-assurance may be vicarious—attributable to the ebullience of the man now occupying the White House rather than to the discovery of any fundamental moral truths. On the horizon is a presidential election that may determine which set of concerns endures longer.
You may ask: Is it really necessary to probe the public consciousness and examine the reigning public philosophy? Are not most of us guided by a gritty pragmatism that eschews any overarching approach to our society’s problems?
Between the transient moods elicited by political advertising or lofty rhetoric and the detailed policy prescriptions manufactured by the inhabitants of Washington think tanks and universities spreads the conceptual terrain in which public problems are defined and public ideals are forged. This is a realm of parable and metaphor, the source of our collective vision. To dismiss this realm as “ideological”—meaningless because irrational and unempirical—is to miss the point that value, not fact, is the currency of the realm. It is to neglect the importance of values for motivating a society. It is to preempt or cheapen all discussion about whether we are motivated in the right direction.
The current confusion reflects turmoil and change in this realm. Our collective vision is slowly shifting in response to a radically different world. Hence the importance of examining what the prevailing vision has been, and what it might be.
Since this is a realm of values and purposes, a journey into it must follow a route marked by interpretations and illustrations rather than formal proofs. In this book I have drawn from several disciplines, selected from a wide range of examples, and connected ideas and phenomena not normally juxtaposed. But I am relying on you, the reader, to be an active explorer as well. You will need to ask yourself: How do these illustrations resonate with my experience? Are these interpretations plausible and meaningful to me? Do they help me better understand my own values, or lead me to question them?
In undertaking this journey, I have relied on the help and insights of many people. The enterprise has come as close to collective entrepreneurialism (a term with which the reader will become acquainted) as is possible without relinquishing single authorship. Only in an academic environment as marvelously disrespectful of traditional academic boundaries, and as supportive of interesting but risky intellectual ventures, as the Kennedy School at Harvard, would I have found a group of people willing to take on the topic and encourage me forward. I am particularly grateful to Michael Barzelay, whose interest in the relation between ideas, politics, and economics continues to kindle my own; to Ronald Heifetz, whose insights into group psychology and cultural avoidance have influenced my thinking about political mythology; and to Bill Hogan, whose hard-nosed approach to public policy has forced me to connect these larger concepts to practical policy questions. I have benefited from Steven Kelman’s understanding of American political institutions, and Mark Moore’s continuing interest in the capacity of myths and visions to mobilize public action. Howard Frant and Rob Muller, graduate students here, donated their time and perspectives. I am especially indebted, as before, to Jack Donahue, whose tenacity forced me to rethink and rewrite, and whose insights added immeasurably to whatever strength the book now possesses. Several colleagues and students at the Harvard Law School, where I have been teaching about the relationships between law, politics, and industrial structure, have also aided in the venture. I am particularly grateful to Phil Heymann for sharing with me his insights into law and political ideology and for his continuing interest in probing these dark corners.
In addition, I am grateful to a number of people who took an early interest in this project, and offered valuable advice and counsel along the way. Larry Smith and Hendrik Hertzberg got me started; Jack Beatty and Bill Whitworth encouraged me to write an essay for The Atlantic that foreshadowed several of the themes in this book; Paul Erickson, Mark Koerner, Robert Bell, and David Kastan provided background on American myth, literature, and politics. The manuscript benefited from readings by Robert Ball, Sidney Blumenthal, Samuel Beer, Nancy Bekavac, Lincoln Caplin, George Gilder, Ray Dalton, Jim Dillon, Doug Dworkin, David Ellwood, John Isaacson, Robert Kuttner, Marc Lackritz, Nancy Altman Lupu, Herman Leonard, George Lodge, Shelley Metzenbaum, Richard Neustadt, Michael O’Hare, Rafe Sagalyn, Paul Starr, Phil Steele, Richard Stewart, and Jim Verdier. Jon Segal, as before, brought to bear his unique blend of enthusiasm and moral support. Above all, I owe thanks to my intellectual partner, friend, and wife, Clare Dalton, whose insights into critical theory and feminism have enriched my perspectives on economics and politics, and whose grace under fire has been an inspiration.
—ROBERT B. REICH
Cambridge, Massachusetts
October 1986