Fifth, it is for precisely this reason that we find that the rulers of sovereign states, who find themselves in constant competition with other members of the order of similar states, are forever concerned to imitate that which is wise and useful and beautiful in the institutions of other nations, so that they may in this way improve their own. In this respect, the order of independent states stands in obvious contrast with the conditions prevailing under empire, in which the nations become lethargic and passive, either mindlessly aping whatever they find in the culture of their rulers, or else fearfully nursing their own indigenous culture in resentful hatred of all that is foreign. It is only under conditions of national sovereignty, in which the customs and policies of other nations are graced with the mantle of legitimacy, that we find nations looking in earnest at what brings success and happiness to their competitors—so that each nation, by caring for its own according to its own traditions and inspirations, ends by sharing with all humanity from its own unique store of experiment and experience.

In addition, it is difficult to pass over the fact that it is not only the institutions of freedom that appear to emerge within the limited regimes that arise under conditions of national sovereignty. It is also the case that those periods of man’s history which we find most admirable in terms of the kind of men they produced and their fruitfulness in terms of works of wisdom and art seem to have been periods in which men were governed by small, competing states, whether these be national states or the anarchic order of the independent city-state: One thinks of ancient Greece and Israel, as well as the Italian states of the Renaissance, and the states of the age of European reformation, enlightenment, and romance, including especially Holland, England, France, and the German states of central Europe.¹⁷ At the very least, it would seem necessary to take notice of the fact that a very great proportion of the heritage of mankind has been the product of the tradition of such states; whereas the contribution of the imperial state to our common humanity has been, in comparison, strikingly sparse. Why this should be the case is not a question to be answered lightly, but I would at least venture that the order of independent national states or city-states seems to offer the greatest opportunities to men of ability who, when they could not find favor and conditions appropriate to their genius in one state, have found it possible to make their way elsewhere. The imperial state, with its insatiable desire for that which is common to the generality of nations, naturally promotes an altogether different environment, ultimately offering the man of ability but one opportunity: Either he succeeds in molding himself to the desires of the one great political and cultural power or, more likely, he does not. And this kind of opportunity, as it seems, comes to little when compared to the flourishing that becomes possible under independent states, each one jealous of its own sovereignty and glory.

In all these considerations—the ability to sustain the establishment of an impersonal order of domestic peace and justice; the tendency to disdain conquest; the willingness to respect the laws and traditions of other states; the fear of neighboring states as an impediment to domestic tyranny; the jealousy of other states as an inducement to learning from them; and perhaps also the competitive environment in which the greatest of men’s achievements naturally find their place—it is evident that the order of sovereign nations is superior to the imperial and anarchic principles with which it competes. In this regard I am reminded of the tradition of the rabbis, according to which the number seventy is taken to represent the nations of the world¹⁸—a figure that well captures the complexity of the natural political order, which finds its reflection in the principle of national sovereignty. And it reflects, too, the extraordinary difficulty of seeking to maintain a world of sovereign states, with all of the questions that such a conception of the political order inevitably raises.¹⁹ Surely, it is far simpler to strive for the establishment of one world empire; or to permit an infinite number of independent polities within anarchy, as many as there are human collectives capable of expressing the common will of their members.

But I believe that one must choose: Whether it is simplicity that one desires in the political order, or freedom. If it be the former, then one must, indeed, place one’s weight on the side of empire and anarchy, whose immense attractiveness and power derive from the irresistible beauty of the absolute. But if it be freedom that one seeks, then there is no choice but to learn the much more difficult craft that a complexity such as that suggested by the rabbis represents. I think that when the matter is weighed carefully, one must conclude that no less than the freedom of humanity depends on our ability to maintain the ideal of national liberty and sovereignty, and to strive for its judicious application as the basis of the political order.

 

Before proceeding to examine some of the limitations inherent to the principle of national sovereignty, I would like to consider one question that may arise, which is whether the state from which the order of sovereign states is built must be a national state. For even if the imperial state is to be rejected for its preoccupation with expansion, and anarchy for its corruption, would it not be possible to recombine these principles as many of the academic writers on the subject propose, creating instead an altogether different kind of state—a state that would have a stable and ingrained aversion to expansion, as does the national state, but which would be home to many nations and cultures, and united by a common government and flag?²⁰ That is, could we not possibly seek a world that would be comprised of states not dissimilar to Austria-Hungary of the mid-nineteenth century, after it had been forced by Napoleon at swordpoint to renounce its aspiration to rule all Europe as the legitimate heir to the Roman Empire?

In considering this argument, it is worth beginning with John Stuart Mill’s critique of the multi-national state, which sought to disabuse us of the belief that such states are conducive to liberty. As Mill wrote:

Mill’s argument is premised on the observation that the principal ties of fellow-feeling among men, when they are considered in great bodies, are those that bind the individual to his people. It is this emotional bond that serves as the basis of free society. So long as this bond remains firm, men will be willing to sacrifice personal advantage for the common good; and this willingness permits the national state to develop just and free institutions internally, and to provide for the common defense against external enemies. The multi-national polity does not benefit from the existence of such a bond among its citizens, so that its government and defense can only be conducted on another basis: That of loyalty to officers or the fear of them, the discipline of obedience to orders, and “devotion to the flag” that represents the state. It is striking that these are the attributes of anarchic rule—that of the feudal order, for example, or of the criminal gang. In other words, the insistence on constructing a multi-national state is the decision to dispense with the positive bonds that can unite the members of a national state, and instead to choose an order based on the kind of ties that bind criminals to their gang leader. Such a state, Mill argues, will be the hangman of liberty.

Nevertheless, it is exactly these same attributes that are today praised so highly by advocates of the multi-national state: Loyalty to the officials of the state; obedience to their laws and commands; and a “thin” citizens’ culture focused on the flag and a handful of other symbols acceptable to all because they mean little or nothing at all—these are proposed as the mortar that will hold together the multi-national and multi-cultural states of the coming world.

But on this score, too, Mill is right. The multi-national state, should it come into being, will in short order begin moving down one of two roads: Either it will attempt to make do with the thin gruel of a concocted common culture, or it will transcend this panacea and adopt for itself a real guiding ideal capable of winning the loyalty of many of the peoples gathered under its roof. In the first case, the government of the new multi-national state will soon find that there is nothing in its arsenal that can bind together the cauldron of conflicting dreams and fears, loves and hatreds, that are the very real substance of the life of nations; and it will be forced to resort to the tried and true methods of maintaining order in anarchy, deputizing strongmen capable of keeping the various peoples in line through personal loyalty and fear, lest the state disintegrate into rival national states or complete chaos. In the second case, the new multi-national state will become conscious of its need for an ideal, and will once again seek it in the ordering principle of an undifferentiated humanity—thereby hurling itself down the road that leads to the imperial state, with all this entails.