Governing for all

To those in power, to command and control without question will often seem a more appealing option than to govern through consultation, tactical concession and necessary compromise.  Take Leon Trotsky for instance – he makes a good point but you can also hear him reaching for his gun and sabre when he says:

 “There is a limit to the application of democratic methods.  You can enquire of all the passengers as to what type of car they like to ride in, but it is impossible to question them as to whether to apply the brakes when the vehicle is at full speed and accidents threaten.”

The essence of democracy is that different views find organized outlet in contending parties.  But the danger always is that contention will become so fierce and unforgiving that democratic give-and-take deteriorates into a sort of modified (and in some cases not at all modified) civil strife.  The great 18th Century essayist, Joseph Addison, saw a danger in his day which other nations in other eras can easily recognize:

“There cannot be a greater judgement befall a country than such a dreadful spirit of division as rends a society into two distinct peoples and makes them greater and more averse to one another than if they were actually two different nations.”

And Vaclav Havel, President of the Czech Republic, surveying the transformed political scene in his country after the demise of communism, made some observations which might strike a chord not too far from home:

 “……………electoral politics are dominating political life……partisan bickering, bragging and intrigue, predictions about who will join with whom and against whom, who will help (or harm) whose chances, who might eventually shift support to whom, who is beholden to whom or falling out with whom.  Politicians seem to be devoting more time to party politics than to their jobs………  All this displaces responsible interest in the prosperity and success of the broader community.”

In a democracy what is needed above all – to avoid a state of continuous civil contention and the consequential displacement of interest in the needs of the community at large – is magnanimity – magnanimity on all sides: the magnanimity of the loser of the election which recognises that those who win cannot be expected to observe a saint-like self-denying ordinance when favours for loyalty are being handed out; but, above all, the magnanimity of the winner who must try their utmost to play the essential role of even-handed arbiter, keep the settlement of old scores to an absolute minimum and, overcoming every temptation offered by power, keep reminding themselves that the winner must not take all – must indeed bend backwards to give up considerably more than the more fanatic players on their side think justified.

Magnanimity does not mean condoning corruption or overlooking outlandishly selfish or even criminal chicanery in high places.  Nor does it mean governing weakly by constantly deferring to opposition protestations.  But it does mean forgiving and forgetting, and therefore not penalizing, for instance, honest links and loyalty to a previous order.  And it does mean taking account of the views and involving in every way possible the talents and experience of those who may be on the other side of the political divide but who are equal in their love of country and the desire for its progress.

Magnanimity – holding out the hand to help a man who has knocked you down before.  It isn’t easy – it is indeed very hard – but democracy without a ruling magnanimity at its heart will never work at all well.  You could call it the Mandela Lesson in honour of that very great man.  It is a lesson which needs to sink more deeply into our body politic than it ever has done since we became a nation.