A political philosophy is a tricky thing to articulate, especially today, when it seems there’s little left to say that hasn’t been said a hundred times before. Regardless, I continue to seek a fresh angle to this over-angled, over-analyzed, over-wrought debate about the ideal approach to governance.

Perhaps I’m bored. Perhaps this struggle is a sad substitution for the sports car I didn’t buy during my brief, mundane, mid-life crisis. Perhaps it’s something else altogether.

Whatever the reason, I’m lately intrigued by a string I’ve found.

This string connects three books by three different authors: Andrew Sullivan’s The Conservative Soul; Paul Ormerod’s Why Most Things Fail; and James Surowiecki’s The Wisdom of Crowds.

Even if not unique or dramatically different than what has preceded it, this string manages to keep my restless mind on the edge of its uncomfortable chair and prompts me to share it with you, in two parts, today and tomorrow. In return, I’d ask that you test this string with me and let me know if you, too, find something compelling tethered to the other end.

Disclaimer: As you read this essay, please keep in mind that what’s outlined herein will in fact be what the title suggests: a philosophy. As such, it’s not a blueprint or handbook for governance. Rather, it’s a touchstone, a starting point, a perspective – and like any perspective, it’s subject to exception and caveat, especially when confronted with the stubborn complexity of what we know as the real world.

* * *

Andrew Sullivan defines conservatism as “a politics of doubt,” thus recasting Goldwater’s true love as something entirely different than the arrogant, self-assured philosophy it is too often presented and perceived to be. As Sullivan writes in the closing chapter of The Conservative Soul:

There is never any end to those claiming to have discovered the infallible truth, the permanent solution to the human predicament, and a fail-safe way of organizing society so as to perfectly or more accurately reflect this truth. You want a politics that will end all existential alienation? Become a communist. You want a politics that will redistribute wealth and promise social justice and inclusion? Become a socialist. You want a politics that rests its defense of inalienable human rights on a God-given liberty? Become a liberal. You want a politics that affirms divine truth in its governance of human affairs? Visit Iran.

The radical alternative to all these options is conservatism. As a politics, its essence is an acceptance of the unknowability of ultimate truth, an acknowledgment of the distinction between what is true forever and what is true for the here and now, and an embrace of the discrepancy between theoretical and practical knowledge. It is an anti-ideology, a nonprogram, a way of looking at the world whose most perfect expression might be called inactivism. (p. 230)

Inactivism. Does Sullivan really think government should do nothing? Not exactly. He sees a role for government, but prefers that role be severely limited, recognizing that the curtailment of government (especially national government) unleashes creative energy elsewhere.

… the skeptical conservative temperament will often lead to paralysis, which to a conservative is often preferable to change. And in general, a conservative will want the government to do as little as possible. (p. 265)

The precision of Sullivan’s argument notwithstanding, it’s difficult for many of us to fully appreciate why a politics of doubt and paralysis are preferable to a politics of conviction and action. And that’s precisely where Paul Ormerod’s work is useful.

With a series of thoroughly researched cases, references, and more data than a non-economist can easily consume, Ormerod demonstrates the predominance of failure in companies and governments alike. However, his pièce de résistance is found not in proving the “Iron Law of Failure,” but in demonstrating how eerily similar are the patterns of extinction for species and institutions; or, in his words:

The precise mathematical relationship which describes the link between the frequency and size of the extinction of companies … is virtually identical to that which describes the extinction of biological species in the fossil record. Only the timescales differ. (From Ormerod’s Introduction, p. x)

Translation: For all of our intelligence, strategy, planning and plotting, we and our elected officials can no more break the Iron Law of Failure than a lesser species and its lesser societies can force individual or group mutation in order to avoid extinction.

In other words, not only do most things fail, there’s relatively little if anything we (or our governments) can do about failure or the rate of failure. Thus Ormerod gives us ample reason to question the prospects of even the most promising government program, strengthening the case for Sullivan’s “politics of doubt.”

So, how do we respond to this information? Do we give up? Stop trying? Allow the doubts of conservatism to entirely freeze us in our tracks, hopelessly resigned to our inevitable demise?

I’ll address those questions and others in the second part of this essay tomorrow.