Chapter 7
In the 1930s, James Burnham had been one of the leading American exponents of Trotskyism. However, in the 1940s, he broke decisively with Marxism and ‘accepted the basic validity’ of the Italian elite theorists (Mosca, Pareto and Michels) to whom he had been introduced by Sidney Hook.1 In 1941, he published his most famous book, The Managerial Revolution, which argued that Marxism had misconceived the true nature of the revolution that had taken place—it was not the proletariat who overthrew bourgeois capitalism but a new class, the managerial class. This book created an intellectual storm at the time of its publication and was reviewed very widely, not only by academic journals but also by mainstream newspapers. Two years later, he followed it up with The Machiavellians in which he explored the ideas of the elite theorists together with Georges Sorel and from which I have already drawn. Burnham was read by and profoundly influenced George Orwell, who was chilled by his amoral scientific view of power.2 Burnham’s outline of the managerial state inspired both Animal Farm and 1984; his coldly realist view was said to be the model for the both the character O’Brien and the book, The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, by Emmanuel Goldstein in the latter.3 In the 1950s and beyond, he became part of the conservative establishment in the USA, helping William F. Buckley found National Review and becoming a leading advocate of a tough line against the Soviet Union during the Cold War—to the extent that now Burnham is sometimes called ‘the first Neoconservative’.4 Later, in 1964, he published The Suicide of the West, in which he is severely critical of liberal attitudes and assumptions which he argued are naïve to the point of being suicidal.5
Here we will focus on the core ideas of The Managerial Revolution rather than the entire body of his thought.6 It is obvious to anyone familiar with the elite theorists that Burnham had fully internalised the teachings of Mosca, Pareto, and Michels. So as not to repeat ourselves, we will take their conclusions as granted, and suffice only to show what is original in Burnham. In 1960, Burnham wrote a short article called ‘Managing the Managers’, which condensed his core thesis to just five pages.7 This very useful summary will serve as a guideline throughout.
Before starting, it is important to emphasise Burnham’s explicitly Machiavellian frame. ‘There is little optimism in Burnham’s view of human nature.’8 Of all the thinkers we are considering, he was the one who most emphatically and avowedly wore the mantle of ‘Machiavellian’—seeking to write only about what is, not what ought to be. He embodied what Thomas Sowell might call the ‘constrained’ or ‘tragic’ vision of man.9 Niccolò Machiavelli once said that ‘human appetites are insatiable’,10 but the thing that they desire most is not wealth but power. Burnham’s fundamental view of human nature was a Hobbesian struggle driven by an almost Nietzschean Will to Power. Perhaps this is nowhere more evident than in Suicide of the West when he argues that the liberal assumption that mass education would solve the problems of yesteryear is wrong-headed: ‘The nineteenth-century liberals overlooked, and the twentieth-century liberals decline to face, the fact that teaching everyone to read opens minds to propaganda and indoctrination at least as much as to truths.’11 No one truly strives for the ‘public good’ but rather to seeks to increase ‘power and prestige for himself and his clique’.12 ‘Burnham thus harboured no illusion that a particular form of society—agrarian, theocratic, or feudal, much less socialist, liberal, or democratic—could adequately restrain the appetite for power.’13 Like Mosca, he recognised the need and utility of a ‘political formula’ which can apparently motivate men by appealing to their sentiments, but like Pareto, he essentially viewed all ideologies as thinly-veiled justifications for the interests of power. However, unlike Pareto, who saw psychology as the decisive factor, Burnham retained—perhaps from his Marxist origins—an economic emphasis as we shall see.
Where the analysis of power and the ruling class has conventionally rested in the government itself, Burnham saw the managerial class operating across the so-called public-private divide and in every large organisation. In effect, the bureaucrats who emerge in Mosca and Michels, through the iron law of oligarchy, come to control every institution and then come to recognise each other as an identifiable class with common skills, interests, beliefs, and goals.
In the new form of society, sovereignty is localized in administrative bureaus. They proclaim the rules, make the laws, issue the decrees. The shift from parliament to the bureaus occurs on a world scale […] The actual directing and administrative work of the bureaus is carried on by new men, a new type of men. It is, specifically, the managerial type […] The active heads of the bureaus are the managers-in-government, the same, or nearly the same, in training, functions, skills, habits of thought as the managers-in-industry.14
Thus, power seems as if it is decentralising but, in fact, is concentrating and consolidating itself in a more diffuse way across every possible institutional node in society. If we use Jouvenel’s idea of power centres being like castles which central power needs to capture, the managerial class quietly takes over government while capturing every castle to create an extremely broad ‘central’ power base which has the appearance of being made up of disparate and separate spheres of influence.
When Burnham talks about ‘managers-in-industry’ and ‘managers-in-government’, it brings to mind the corporate middle manager and the career civil servant, but he actually has in mind a much wider range of people than that. Senior executives at board level in corporations, for example—the CEO—are very often ‘managers’, paid employees. Beyond the mid-ranking civil servants, top-level advisors of every stripe, senior diplomats, communications directors and so on are all ‘managers’. Even the politicians themselves who sit in Parliamentary democracies—we might picture someone like Tony Blair or Angela Merkel—take on a distinctly managerial air. However, the scope of the managerial class is wider still than this: it is not simply those who work in and around corporations and governments, but in all major institutions across society. It is worth quoting Burnham at length here:
Within the huge trade unions, a similar managerial officialdom, the ‘labor bureaucracy,’ consolidates its position as an elite. This elite is sharply distinguished in training, income, habits and outlook from the ordinary union member. The trend extends to the military world, the academic world, the non-profit foundations and even auxiliary organizations of the U.N. Armies are no longer run by ‘fighting captains,’ but by a Pentagon-style managerial bureaucracy. Within the universities, proliferating administrators have risen above students, teaching faculty, alumni and parents, their power position expressed in the symbols of higher salaries and special privileges. The great ‘nonprofit foundations’ have been transformed from expressions of individual benevolence into strategic bases of managerial-administrative power. The United Nations has an international echelon of managers entrenched in the Secretariat. There are fairly obvious parallels in the managerial structures of the diverse institutional fields. For example, managers in business are to stockholders as labor managers are to union members; as government managers are to voters; as public school administrators are to tax-payers; as university and private school administrators are to tuition payers and fund contributors.15
When Burnham was writing, the managerial class had not fully consolidated its power so the truth of what he was saying was not readily visible to all but the most astute observers. Detractors would often focus on irrelevant details and incorrect predictions while missing the bigger picture.16 At the time of writing, in the 2020s, when all these organisations appear to speak with one voice, when none dare to disagree, the truth of Burnham’s analysis appears so obvious as to seem trite. In fact, the scope now extends beyond what even he envisioned to encompass practically every major Church denomination too.
Where Marxists believed that the decisive factor in history and society is ownership of the means of production, Burnham argued that the relationship between ownership and control had been severed due to the rise of limited liability corporations—which, as C. A. Bond shows, were always a legal creation rather than a facet of the free market17—as well as the fact of mass and scale.
The divorce of control, or power, from ownership has been due in large part to the growth of public corporations. So long as a single person, family or comparatively small group held a substantial portion of the common shares of a corporation, the legal ‘owners’ could control its affairs. Even if they no longer actually conducted the business, the operating managers were functioning as their accountable agents. But when the enterprise became more vast in scope and, at the same time, the stock certificates became spread in small bundles among thousands of persons, the managers were gradually released from subordination to the nominal owners. De facto control passed, for the most part, to nonowning management.18
In effect, Burnham’s key insight was to apply Michels’s iron law of oligarchy to shareholders and corporate managers and then to apply the same logic to every other organisation across society.
Burnham’s conception of the behaviour and methods of managerial elites owes a lot to Michels. They look after their own interests at the expense of those whom they are supposed to represent and serve:
Once the managers consolidate their position within an institution, their objective interests no longer fully correspond to the interests of the other groups involved—voters, owners, members, teachers, students or consumers. A decision on dividends, mergers, labor contracts, prices, curriculum, class size, scope of government operations, armament, strikes, etc., may serve the best interests of the managers without necessarily contributing to the well-being of the other groups.19
Their ends are almost entirely self-serving and self-justifying, focusing on ‘problems’ that expand their control and power:
Managerial activity tends to become inbred and self-justifying. The enterprise comes to be thought of as existing for the sake of its managers—not the managers for the enterprise. A high percentage of the time of the managers and their staff is spent on ‘housekeeping’ and other internal problems. […] Self-justifying managerial control tends to keep alive operations which have little social purpose other than to nourish an enclave of managers. This is conspicuously true of governments. Many acute, expensive problems which our society faces—for example, in agriculture, radio-TV, railroads, finance, etc.—are largely manufactured by the managerial agencies founded to solve them.20
Here one might think of the issue of climate change or the response to the COVID-19 pandemic; in both cases every ‘solution’ to the problem entails expanding the remit of the managers, creating new jobs for managers, and instituting new power centres from which managers can control the masses.
In addition, the managerial class is anti-democratic in practice though not in rhetoric:
Managerial predominance tends toward regimentation and the suppression of active democracy. The rising power of a managerial group in a given institution is, in fact, usually equivalent to a lessening in whatever form of democracy is relevant. In other words, the power of the stockholder, voter, member, consumer, faculty, taxpayer, etc., decreases as the power of the manager increases. The combination of managerial groups—as when there is collusion between labor and business management—means the decline of democracy in the conjoined fields. In this connection, we must remember that totalitarianism is nothing more than an integrated front of managerial groups achieved either by mutual agreement or unilateral coercion.21
They are also practically impossible to dispense with owing to the interchangeable nature of managers:
Even today, though individual managers in business can lose their jobs, a Napoleonic campaign is needed to get rid of a corporate management group. As for government or educational administrators and trade union officials, a nuclear explosion would hardly be enough to dislodge them.22
Firing one manager will simply result in another one taking his place; he will have the same managerial tastes, interests, ideas, goals and so on as the last one.
Why did this change come about? For Burnham, it is no great secret:
There is no mystery in this shift. It can be correlated easily enough with the change in character of the state’s activities. Parliament was the sovereign body of the limited state of capitalism. The bureaus are the sovereign bodies of the unlimited state of managerial society.23
Indeed, much of The Managerial Revolution is devoted to contrasting ‘capitalism’, by which Burnham means the small-state laissez-faire bourgeois capitalism of nineteenth century, with managerialism. The differences between capitalism and managerialism manifest themselves in their respective ideologies. Capitalist societies promoted: ‘individualism; opportunity; “natural rights”, especially the rights of property; freedom, especially “freedom of contract”; private enterprise; private initiative; and so on.’ These ideas ‘justified profit and interest’, ‘they showed why the owner of the instruments of production was entitled to the full product of those instruments and why the worker had no claim on the owner except for the contracted wages.’24 Burnham notes that where these were once progressive slogans, in 1941 they are recognised as reactionary and as the cries of Tories. In contrast, managerialism is orientated away from the private individual and towards the public collective; away from free enterprise and towards planning; away from providing opportunities and towards providing jobs; less about ‘rights’ and more about ‘duties’. One must remember here that Burnham did not only have the United States in mind but also the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany as managerial states. The Soviets and Germans were more blatant in their messaging than the Americans who felt the need to pay lip-service to the older ideologies. In a passage that seems shocking to read today—perhaps owing to the eighty years of propaganda between 1941 and now—Burnham notes that the masses in Britain, France, and America simply did not want to fight World War II for the elites—that their messaging was tired and outmoded, and simply failed to animate the young men despite mass unemployment at the time. He contrasts that with the picture in Germany, where the masses enthusiastically supported Hitler. He argues that it is ‘shallow and absurd’ to imagine that mass support for the German war effort was down to terrorism and skilled propaganda alone—rather, the cause was genuinely popular. In France, meanwhile, the masses were ‘passive’ and ‘did not have the will to fight’ because ‘democracy’ and ‘capitalism’ were not causes that animated them whatsoever. He points out the awkward and undeniable fact that both Britain and the USA had to resort to the draft rather than relying on millions of enthusiastic and willing volunteers at a time of mass unemployment.25 However, managerialism ultimately has a globalising tendency and ‘totalitarian character.’26 As Burnham warned in 1960: ‘the directing managers of each nation should preserve a healthy remnant of national individuality from becoming dissolved into the global managerial state that looms, under a variety of labels, as the ideal goal of a total managerial society.’27
However, it seems that Burnham’s thinking retains a residually Marxist economism, whereby material conditions ultimately create the need for ideologies—or in Marxist jargon, the base creates the superstructure. The process by which capitalist firms ‘become’ managerial is driven initially by economic and practical concerns and only latterly by ideological ones. Burnham argues that managerialism comes about initially because of the economic need for start-up capital, especially in times of contraction in which interest rates are high, and investors are risk averse, such as during the Great Depression.
[T]he internal crisis of entrepreneurial capitalism compels the expansion of the state. Massive amounts of new capital cannot be mobilised from private sources and must come, directly or indirectly, from the government. The managers indispensable to the technical processes of modern production, find co-operation with the state and the use of its coercive monopoly valuable for the continuance of production and for their own interests.28
Here, the defender of entrepreneurial capitalism might object and argue that a firm might raise funds by floating themselves on the stock market as an IPO—in other words, issuing shares in exchange for liquid capital. But the publicly traded company relies on the state for its legal status and automatically comes under increased regulation and managerial oversight. Furthermore, in practical terms, control over such companies is often handed over to managers.
For example, one of the great American tycoons, Henry Ford, died in 1947. Although his son Edsel had technically been the President of the Ford Motor Company from 1919 until his death in 1943, Henry had always assumed de facto control over the company; the board and the management had never seriously defied him. The Roosevelt administration had developed a plan to nationalise the Ford Motor Company should Henry become incapacitated—thus he resumed direct control of the firm. Before his death, owing to his old age and declining mental health, and somewhat cajoled by his wife and daughter-in-law who owned controlling stakes in the firm, he agreed to hand over the day-to-day affairs of running the Ford Motor Company to his grandson Henry Ford II. It was soon losing $9 million a month and the corporate manager, Ernest R. Breech, was hired to become Executive Vice President and then Board Chairman. The Ford Motor Company became publicly traded in 1956.29 Thus, even though the Ford family retain a 40% ownership of this company, it can be said to have fully transitioned into being a node of managerialism after the death of its founder, Henry Ford, who once commanded it as a visionary entrepreneur and leader.
The same can be said, and doubly so, for the Ford Foundation. Shortly after Henry Ford’s death, Henry Ford II signed a document stating that the Ford family would exercise no more influence over the foundation than any other board member; he regretted the decision for the rest of his life. Since then, the Ford Foundation has supported almost exclusively left-wing progressive causes that would make Henry Ford—a well-known social conservative—turn in his grave.30 For example, between 1970 and 2010, the Ford Foundation gave $46,123,135 to LGBT causes alone.31 This is typical of how managerialism captures institutions and turns them against their original purposes for managerial ones. Here ‘left-wing progressivism’ and ‘managerialism’ are synonymous since the solutions of the former always involve the expansion of the latter. To stay with the example of LGBT causes, these may seem remote from something as technical as ‘managerialism’, but consider the armies of HR officers, diversity tsars, equalities ministers, and so on that are supported today under the banner of ‘LGBT’ and used to police and control enterprises. The ‘philanthropic’ endeavours of the Ford Foundation in this regard laid the infrastructure and groundwork to setup new power centres for managerialism under the guise of this ostensibly unrelated cause. Similar case studies can be found in issues as diverse as racial equality, gender equality, Islamist terrorism, climate change, mental health, and the management of the COVID-19 pandemic. The logic of managerialism is to create invisible ‘problems’ which can, in effect, never truly be solved, but rather can permanently support managerial jobs that force some arbitrary compliance standard such as ‘unconscious bias training’, ‘net zero carbon’, the ratio of men and women on executive boards, or whatever else. In the managerial state of the Soviet Union, such managers would simply be called commissars of the CPSU; in the managerial state of the United States they will simply be called things like ‘Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Officer for Ford Motor Company’, but their function is identical. In both cases, their post and its duties are backed by the full force of the law and the state. The latter is an example of the ‘fused political-economic apparatus’ Burnham describes.32 In the end, Franklin D. Roosevelt did not have to nationalise Ford: even if the US government and the Ford Motor Company have the ostensible appearance of being separate entities, in actuality they move as one, espouse the same values, enforce the same compliance policies, and so on as if they were two sub-departments of The Politburo.
Thus, we can see that although, to retain the Marxist lexicon, the ‘economic base’ determines the ‘ideological superstructure’ in Burnham, managerialism also uses the ideological superstructure—which is to say the slogans of ‘social justice’ or ‘climate change’ etc—to expand its economic base and therefore its control. The role of public relations in general is somewhat taken for granted in Burnham and reduced to ‘propaganda’, even though—as we saw earlier—he was acutely aware of the power of the press to brainwash the public. He was also aware that the United States had come to be dominated by Pareto’s foxes who rely almost exclusively on persuasion to get their way. This aspect of managerialism takes a subordinate role in Burnham’s work but is massively expanded upon in the work of Samuel T. Francis, which we will explore shortly.
While Burnham worked chiefly in the diagnostic mode, he makes some suggestions as to how Western society might escape managerial totalitarianism—in fact, this is the central thesis of his next book, The Machiavellians. Burnham had a ‘belief in a pluralist society, in which power restrains power’.33 Thus his solution to managerial totalitarianism was essentially to set managers from different spheres against each other as to prevent them from uniting: ‘The only way to manage the managers, in short, is to keep them busy enough managing or counter-vailing each other to guarantee that they won’t unite and spend all their time managing the rest of us.’34 This is substantially the same ‘solution’ as Mosca’s juridical defence and separation of powers. However, as Jouvenel’s work shows historically, and as history since Burnham was writing has shown, this is easier said than done because power’s logic always tends towards centralisation and, it seems to me, that the managers have a vested interest in convergence. At the time of writing, they have achieved total global dominance across all institutions. It strikes me that of the possible rival nodes of power only two have the potential to resist this total dominance. The first are the kulak class or, if you prefer, the independent middle-class or petite bourgeoise, who are non-managerial, disparate and are not (as yet) organised as a minority interest group. The second are managers at the level of national government whose power represents a threat to global managerialism and therefore must, in the long run, be conquered and dissolved as so many feudal castles. So long as armies are loyal to nations rather than to global governance structures or supra-national organisations, there remains at least the foreseeable chance that a power struggle may emerge between the traditional apparatuses of nation-states and the power centres of globalism. At present, they are united, but if history tells us anything at all, it is that things can change quickly.
On this score, in The Machiavellians, one thing Burnham does add to the elite theorists is his own idea of how revolutions take place:
There is revolutionary change (1) when the élite cannot or will not adjust to the new technological and social forces; (2) when a significant proportion of the élite rejects ruling for cultural and aesthetic activities; (3) when the élite fails to assimilate promising new elements; (4) when a sizeable percentage of the élite questions the legitimacy of its rule; (5) when élite and non-élite reject the mythological basis of order in the society; and finally (6) when the ruling class lacks courage to employ force effectively.35
It is notable that of these six criteria only one considers the discontent of the masses and, even then, it is only half of the point; or, in other words, five and a half out of six criteria concern the elites. When considering our current situation under managerial dominance, we might say that the current elite do adjust to new technologies, still have an insatiable appetite to rule, do not question their own legitimacy and believe their own myths. So far, so good.
However, to go through the six points again, they are at risk of mismanaging new technologies if they are too forceful in their climate change agenda. People accustomed to driving their own cars and enjoying other methods of travel and who are used to eating meat at affordable prices are likely revolt should these luxuries be suddenly removed, and they may find some elite backing by vested interests who still want to make money from the massive industries associated with them. They have also not yet found a way to manage the ‘new social forces’ unleashed by widespread resentment against mass immigration and other facets of globalism that led to the Brexit vote in the UK, Donald Trump in the United States, and so-called populism in Europe, most recently embodied by the meteoric rise of Éric Zemmour in France who has flanked Marine Le Pen by being more radical in his rhetoric to challenge the widely disliked globalist Emmanuel Macron. The current tactic of simply branding such people as ‘beyond the pale’, ‘insurrectionists’, ‘fascists’ ad nauseum has not worked in any respect since 2015. In fact, four years of such relentless rhetoric from the corporate media resulted in the hated Donald Trump increasing his total votes by over 14 million people—which would have been a resounding victory had he not been against the most popular presidential candidate of all time, Joe Biden. The populist phenomena are perhaps a symptom of the fact that managerial dominance and convergence will increasingly seek to dissolve the nation state as an obsolete unit. Indeed, globalists use separatist groups such as the SNP in Scotland or the Catalan independence movement in Spain as battering rams against the national governments. In Jouvenelian terms, if globalists constitute the centre and separatists the peripheries, then national governments are the subsidiaries whose feudal castles must, in the long run, be destroyed. So long as national governments maintain standing armies, it is possible to imagine scenarios in which they may turn on the globalists. For example, if populations simply will not brook the punitive carbon taxes that globalists wish them to enact, the political incentives to side with dissidents against globalists may be too strong for leaders to resist.
The elite are also actively turning away ‘promising new elements’ which is simply to say talented people with the wrong political views, skin colour, or gender. Either these people are not hired in the first place because of affirmative action programmes and increasingly absurd diversity quotas, or they are hired but later sacked for transgressing the regime in some way. In the long run, this will create an entire class of disaffected would-be elites who will put their skills and talents towards their eventual overthrow, especially if they feel locked out of what would have been their career path in a normal and well-run society. Furthermore, around thirty percent of people have turned decisively against the elites in the past few years, taken together with disaffected would-be elite, these dissidents form a non-elite who increasingly ‘reject the mythological basis of order in the society’ where this basis is some empty managerial slogan of social justice that becomes a precondition to enter the workplace. Which brings us finally to the question of force and whether the managerial foxes are prepared to use it against the dissident population. Time will surely tell, but according to Burnham’s criteria, while the managerial elite may look secure and united now, they are faced with a threat that cannot be ‘managed’ using their usual tricks of persuasion since the people who constitute that threat have become actively hostile to their increasingly patronising messaging. Force will become necessary, and then, as Oswald Spengler once put it, will come the hour of decision.36
1 Sidney Hook, ‘On James Burnham’s The Machiavellians’, Society, 25 (March 1988), p. 68.
2 See George Orwell, ‘James Burnham and the Managerial Revolution’ and ‘Review of The Machiavellians by James Burnham’ in Essays (New York: Everyman’s Library, 2002), pp. 523–6, 1052–73.
3 R. B. Reaves, ‘Orwell’s “Second Thoughts on James Burnham” and 1984’, College Literature, 11:1 (1984), pp. 13–21.
4 Binoy Kampmark, ‘The First Neo-conservative: James Burnham and the Origins of a Movement’, Review of International Studies, 37:4 (2011), pp. 1885–1907.
5 James Burnham, Suicide of the West: An Essay on the Meaning and Destiny of Liberalism (New York: John Day Company, 1964).
6 For a very good overview see Daniel J. O’Neil, ‘The Political Philosophy of James Burnham’, International Journal of Social Economics, 21 (1994), pp. 141–52; for a book-length treatment see Samuel T. Francis, Thinkers of our Time: James Burnham (1984; London: The Claridge Press, 1999).
7 James Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, Challenge, 8:8 (May 1960), pp. 18–23.
8 O’Neil, ‘The Political Philosophy of James Burnham’, p. 143.
9 Thomas Sowell, A Conflict of Visions: Ideological Origins of Political Struggles, rev. ed. (1987; New York: Basic Books, 2007), p. 162.
10 Niccolò Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, trans. Harvey C. Mansfield and Nathan Tarcov (1517; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 2. Preface, p. 125.
11 Burnham, Suicide of the West, pp. 138–9.
12 O’Neil, ‘The Political Philosophy of James Burnham’, p. 143.
13 Samuel T. Francis, ‘The Other Side of Modernism: James Burnham and His Legacy’, in Beautiful Losers (Columbia, MI: University of Missouri Press, 1994), p. 133.
14 James Burnham, The Managerial Revolution (1941; Westport, CN: Greenwood Press, 1972), pp. 148–50.
15 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p. 19.
16 See Francis, Thinkers of Our Time, pp. 26–8.
17 C. A. Bond, Nemesis: The Jouvenelian vs. The Liberal Model of Human Orders (Perth: Imperium Press, 2019), pp. 88–101.
18 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p. 18.
19 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p. 20.
20 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p. 21.
21 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p. 21.
22 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p. 20.
23 Burnham, The Managerial Revolution, p. 148.
24 Burnham, The Managerial Revolution, p. 187.
25 Burnham, The Managerial Revolution, pp. 189–90.
26 Francis, Thinkers of Our Time, p. 16.
27 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p.23.
28 Francis, Thinkers of Our Time, p. 14.
29 Charles E. Sorensen, My Forty Years with Ford (New York: Norton, 1956), pp. 324–33.
30 Martin Morse Wooster, The Great Philanthropists and the Problem of ‘Donor Intent’, 3rd edn (1998; Washington, DC: Capital Research Center, 2007), pp. 34–44.
31 Scott Howard, The Transgender Industrial Complex (Quakertown, PA: Antelope Hill, 2020), p. 121.
32 Burnham, The Managerial Revolution, p. 123.
33 Hook, On James Burnham’s The Machiavellians’, p. 68.
34 Burnham, ‘Managing the Managers’, p.23.
35 O’Neil, ‘The Political Philosophy of James Burnham’, p. 145. See also James Burnham, The Machiavellians: Defenders of Freedom (London: Putnam, 1943), pp. 257–8.
36 Oswald Spengler, The Hour of Decision: Germany and World-Historical Evolution (1934; Honolulu, HI: University Press of the Pacific, 2002).