Brooks:
There are just a few essential reads if you want to understand the American social and political landscape today. Robert Putnam’s “Our Kids,” Charles Murray’s “Coming Apart” and a few other books deserve to be on that list. Today, I’d add Yuval Levin’s fantastic new book, “The Fractured Republic.”
Levin
starts with the observation that our politics and much of our thinking is
drenched in nostalgia for the 1950s and early 1960s. The left is nostalgic for
the relative economic equality of that era. The right is nostalgic for the
cultural cohesion. The postwar era has become our unconscious ideal of what
successful America looks like. It was, Levin notes, an age of cohesion and
consolidation.
But we
have now moved to an age of decentralization and fragmentation. At one point in
the book he presents a series of U-shaped graphs showing this pattern.
Party
polarization in Congress declined steadily from 1910 to 1940, but it has risen
steadily since. We are a less politically cohesive nation.
The
share of national income that went to the top 1 percent declined steadily from
1925 to about 1975, but has risen steadily since. We are a less economically
cohesive nation.
The
share of Americans who were born abroad dropped steadily from 1910 to 1970. But
the share of immigrants has risen steadily ever since, from 4.7 percent of the
population to nearly 14 percent. We are a more diverse and less demographically
cohesive nation.
In case
after case we’ve replaced attachments to large established institutions with
commitments to looser and more flexible networks. Levin argues that the
Internet did not cause this shift but embodies today’s individualistic, diffuse
society.
This
shift has created some unpleasant realities. Levin makes a nice distinction
between centralization and consolidation. In economic, cultural and social
terms, America is less centralized. But people have simultaneously concentrated
off on the edges —- separated into areas of, say, concentrated wealth and
concentrated poverty. The middle has hollowed out in sphere after sphere.
Socially, politically and economically we’re living within “bifurcated
concentration.”
For
example, religious life has bifurcated. Church attendance has declined twice as
fast among people without high school diplomas as among people with college
degrees. With each additional year of education, the likelihood of attending
religious services rises by 15 percent.
We’re
also less embedded in tight, soul-forming institutions. Levin makes another
distinction between community — being part of a congregation — and identity —
being, say, Jewish. Being part of community takes time and involves
restrictions. Merely having an identity doesn’t. In our cultural emphasis and
life, we’ve gone from a community focus to an identity focus.
Our
politicians try to find someone to blame for these problems: banks, immigrants
or, for Donald Trump, morons generally. But that older consolidated life could
not have survived modernity and is never coming back. It couldn’t have survived
globalization, feminism and the sexual revolution, the rising tide of
immigration and the greater freedom consumers now enjoy.
Our
fundamental problems are the downsides of transitions we have made for good
reasons: to enjoy more flexibility, creativity and individual choice. For
example, we like buying cheap products from around the world. But the choices
we make as consumers make life less stable for us as employees.
Levin
says the answer is not to dwell in confusing, frustrating nostalgia. It’s
through a big push toward subsidiarity, devolving choice and power down to the
local face-to-face community level, and thus avoiding the excesses both of
rigid centralization and alienating individualism. A society of empowered local
neighborhood organizations is a learning society. Experiments happen and
information about how to solve problems flows from the bottom up.
I’m
acknowledged in the book, but I learned something new on every page.
Nonetheless, I’d say Levin’s emphasis on subsidiarity and local community is
important but insufficient. We live within a golden chain, connecting self, family,
village, nation and world. The bonds of that chain have to be repaired at every
point, not just the local one.
It’s
not 1830. We Americans have a national consciousness. People who start local
groups are often motivated by a dream of scaling up and changing the nation and
the world. Our distemper is not only caused by local fragmentation but by
national dysfunction. Even Levin writes and thinks in nation-state terms (his
prescription is Wendell Berry, but his intellectual and moral sources are closer
to a nationalist like Abraham Lincoln).
That
means there will have to be a bigger role for Washington than he or current
Republican orthodoxy allows, with more radical ideas, like national service, or
a national effort to seed locally run early education and infrastructure
projects.
As in
ancient Greece and Rome, local communities won’t survive if the national
project disintegrates. Our structural problems are national and global and
require big as well as little reforms.