A More Open Society
Roger Berkowitz
02-23-2025 N.S. Lyons continues to be one of the more astute analysts of the power of Donald Trump. In his latest essay “American Strong Gods,” he imagines Trump’s current whirlwind of chaos as a nearly inevitable reaction to a century of weakness. In Lyon’s telling, the “weak gods” of the 20th century emerged in the wake of the Holocaust and totalitarianism in Germany and the USSR.
"In the wake of the horrors inflicted by WWII, the leadership classes of America and Europe understandably made “never again” the core of their ideational universe. They collectively resolved that fascism, war, and genocide must never again be allowed to threaten humanity. But this resolution, as reasonable and well-meaning as it seemed at the time, soon became an all-consuming obsession with negation."
Lyons ties “negation” to the idea of the “open society.” It is opposed to the “closed society,” where “strong gods” lead to “strong beliefs and strong truth claims, strong moral codes, strong relational bonds, strong communal identities and connections to place and past – ultimately, all those “objects of men’s love and devotion, the sources of the passions and loyalties that unite societies.”” In short, we came to fear closed societies as leading to fascism, and so we reacted by embracing weak, relativist, and amoral social and political orders. The post-war liberal project is to tear down strong gods and build instead an “idyllic but exceptionally vague vision of an “open society” animated by peaceable weak gods of tolerance, doubt, dialogue, equality, and consumer comfort.”The particularly novel insight in much of Lyon’s writing is that the "open society"built by post-war liberals was profoundly anti-political. Afraid of strong gods, the elites who built the world order were terrified of democracy and sought to insulate our social and political institutions from democratic excesses by means of a managerial and technocratic elite. Lyons writes:
"As Carl Schmitt noted early in the twentieth century, an “elemental impulse” of liberalism is “neutralization” and “depoliticization” of the political – that is, the attempt to remove all fundamental contention from politics out of fear of conflict, shrinking “politics” to mere managerial administration. This excising of the political from politics was at the heart of the post-war project’s structural aims. Just as Schmitt had predicted, the goal became to achieve perpetual peace through an “age of technicity,” in which politics would be reduced to the safer, more predictable movements of a machine through the empowerment of supposedly-neutral mechanisms like bureaucratic processes, legal judgements, and expert technocratic commissions.
Actual public contention over genuinely political questions, especially by the dangerously fascism-prone democratic masses, was in contrast now judged to be too dangerous to permit. The post-war establishment of the "open society" dreamed instead of achieving governance via scientific management, of transforming the political sphere into “a social technology… whose results can be tested by social engineering,” as Popper put it. The operation of this machine could then be limited to a cadre of carefully selected and educated “institutional technologists,” in Popper’s phrasing.
Thus the great expansion of our modern managerial regimes, including the American “deep state” that the Trump administration and Elon Musk are now trying to dismantle. Characterized by vast permanent administrative states of unaccountable bureaucracies, such regimes are run by an oligarchic elite class of technocrats schooled in social engineering, dissimulation, false compassion, the manipulation of allegedly-neutral processes, and a litigious ethos of risk-avoidance. The obsessive management of public opinion through propaganda and censorship also became an especially key priority in such regimes, with the objective being both to constrain democratic outcomes (to defend “democracy” against the masses) and to generally suppress serious public discussion of contentious yet fundamental political issues (such as mass migration policies) in an effort to prevent civil strife."
Lyons has a black and white version of history. The Open Society was a reaction to the fear of fascism and a closed society. Now, we are seeing the reverse, the rise of a closed society against the excesses of the "open society." Lyon’s writes:
"Today’s populism is more than just a reaction against decades of elite betrayal and terrible governance (though it is that too); it is a deep, suppressed thumotic desire for long-delayed action, to break free from the smothering lethargy imposed by proceduralist managerialism and fight passionately for collective survival and self-interest. It is the return of the political to politics. This demands a restoration of old virtues, including a vital sense of national and civilizational self-worth. And that in turn requires a rejection of the pathological “tyranny of guilt” (as the French philosopher Pascal Bruckner once dubbed it) that has gripped the Western mind since 1945. As the power of endless hysterical accusations of “fascism” has gradually faded, we have – for better and worse – begun to witness the end of the Age of Hitler.
Energetic national populism is, then, a rejection of all the core obsessions and demands of the twentieth century and the 'open society' consensus that so dominated it. The passionless reign of weakness, tolerance, and drab universalist utilitarianism being held up as moral and political ideals seems to be ending. And that means the gerontocracy of the Long Twentieth Century is finally dying off too. This is what Trump, in all his brashness, represents: the strong gods have escaped from exile and returned to America, dragging the twenty-first century along behind them….
Trump’s policies so far in his second term also reflect this new zeitgeist. His blitzkrieg of executive action has struck directly at the three pillars of the Long Twentieth Century: closing the nation’s borders and purging the state of the latest ideological evolution of 'open society' orthodoxy (“Diversity, Equity, Inclusion”) while inspiring the broader culture to do the same; moving to dismantle the managerial state, including by affirming the elected Executive’s direct, personal control over the sheltered proceduralist (i.e. democratically uncontrollable and unaccountable) bureaucracy; and transforming U.S. foreign policy by rejecting liberal proceduralism in the international sphere as well, putting national interests ahead of the interests of the “international order” and declining to automatically play the role of global rule-enforcer.
The very boldness of this action reflects more than just partisan political gamesmanship – in itself it represents the stasis of the old paradigm being upended; now “you can just do things” again. This mindset hasn’t been seen in America since FDR and his revolutionary government remade the country and established the modern managerial state; no one has dared to so much as jostle the machine he created since the end of WWII. Now Trump has….
Now the strong gods are nonetheless being haphazardly called back into the world as the vitalistic neo-romanticism of our revolutionary moment of reformation tears down the decaying walls and guard towers of the 'open society.' Their return brings real risks, or course – although the return of risk is kind of the point. The thing about strong gods is that they’re strong, meaning they can be fearsome and dangerous; which is precisely why they also have the strength to protect and defend. It remains an open question whether this necessary renewal of strength and vitality can be reintegrated harmoniously into our societies, or whether our world will again be plunged into a time of significantly greater strife, danger, and war."
Energetic national populism is, then, a rejection of all the core obsessions and demands of the twentieth century and the 'open society' consensus that so dominated it. The passionless reign of weakness, tolerance, and drab universalist utilitarianism being held up as moral and political ideals seems to be ending. And that means the gerontocracy of the Long Twentieth Century is finally dying off too. This is what Trump, in all his brashness, represents: the strong gods have escaped from exile and returned to America, dragging the twenty-first century along behind them….
Trump’s policies so far in his second term also reflect this new zeitgeist. His blitzkrieg of executive action has struck directly at the three pillars of the Long Twentieth Century: closing the nation’s borders and purging the state of the latest ideological evolution of 'open society' orthodoxy (“Diversity, Equity, Inclusion”) while inspiring the broader culture to do the same; moving to dismantle the managerial state, including by affirming the elected Executive’s direct, personal control over the sheltered proceduralist (i.e. democratically uncontrollable and unaccountable) bureaucracy; and transforming U.S. foreign policy by rejecting liberal proceduralism in the international sphere as well, putting national interests ahead of the interests of the “international order” and declining to automatically play the role of global rule-enforcer.
The very boldness of this action reflects more than just partisan political gamesmanship – in itself it represents the stasis of the old paradigm being upended; now “you can just do things” again. This mindset hasn’t been seen in America since FDR and his revolutionary government remade the country and established the modern managerial state; no one has dared to so much as jostle the machine he created since the end of WWII. Now Trump has….
Now the strong gods are nonetheless being haphazardly called back into the world as the vitalistic neo-romanticism of our revolutionary moment of reformation tears down the decaying walls and guard towers of the 'open society.' Their return brings real risks, or course – although the return of risk is kind of the point. The thing about strong gods is that they’re strong, meaning they can be fearsome and dangerous; which is precisely why they also have the strength to protect and defend. It remains an open question whether this necessary renewal of strength and vitality can be reintegrated harmoniously into our societies, or whether our world will again be plunged into a time of significantly greater strife, danger, and war."
For Lyons, world history moves in cycles. Too much of a closed society leads to the excesses of an "open society." Now, the excesses of the "open society" mean that we will return to a closed society. It is written in the stars and we don’t have much control over this.
"But we no longer have much of a choice in the matter; the strong gods’ restoration has become inevitable, one way or another. We’re living in a whole new century now. The Long Twentieth Century has run its course, the world it bequeathed to us in the West having proved a wholly unsustainable mix of atomization, listlessness, self-abnegation, and petty impersonal tyranny. Our societies will either accept the offer of revitalization or fade out of existence, to be replaced by other stronger, more grounded and cohesive cultures."
Lyons is right that we have increasingly traded democracy for security and that we have preferred technocratic competence to popular fantasies. He is not wrong to see in the extremities of an "open society" an ideology that has led to loneliness, atomization, and social tyrannies. And he is correct to understand much of the Trump phenomenon as an over-reaction to the technocratic suppression of popular will. But Lyons is less reliable when he claims that the upsurge of the strong gods must inevitably lead to a return of the closed society.
Hannah Arendt also worried that our government had become too big and too bureaucratic. She feared, with Alexis deTocqueville, that we had lost the democratic spirit that emerges out of township governance. Such small town democratic governance is often crass, intolerant, and dangerous, but Arendt understood that popular rule also is the fuel that powers democratic and republican ideas of self-government. She worried that by empowering bureaucrats we were disempowering the people and risked abandoning the great American experiment in government by the people, of the people and for the people.
Where Arendt differs from Lyons is in her insistence that we protect against the inhuman threat of fascist and totalitarian rule. Arendt does not see the rise of technocratic government either as a consequence of the “open society” nor as a justification for a return to a closed society. The answer to the disempowerment brought about by bureaucratic managerial government is not a closed society, but a more "open society." Arendt would have us re-empower the people by engaging in local government, participating in citizens assemblies, and taking part in the activity of self-government. She is not opposed to allowing strong gods to flourish, but she is fully against promoting strong gods in a centralized and powerful federal government. The way to protect against the danger of strong gods is to multiply the sources and institutions of power. That is why Arendt celebrated the American constitutional principle of federalism and the multiplication of powers, alongside the refusal of sovereignty.
Most liberal-minded people today are fearful of public power. We say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, but the insufficiency of this formula is lately all too apparent. We are scared of the power that emerges when people act together. So we prefer a government of experts, not least because it frees us to spend our time on private pursuits like consumption and family. The disempowerment of the people in representative democracy embraces our bourgeois preference to be freed to pursue our individual interests, to be relieved of the duty of politics and public virtue. Much easier to leave governing to the experts.
For Arendt, the rise of massive technocratic bureaucracies leads to what she calls “the rule of nobody.” The fact that politics is apolitical and governed by technocratic departments does not mean that it is less tyrannical or less despotic. On the contrary, “the fact that no world government — no despot, per se — could be identified within this world government would in no way change its despotic character.” Such a bureaucratic government “is more fearsome still, because no one can speak with or petition this ‘nobody.’” Bureaucracy is anti-political because “any sort of rebellion would no longer be possible."
Against bureaucratic managerialism, Arendt, as does Lyons, understands that strong gods are part of the human experience, as are prejudice and thoughtlessness. None of us is without prejudice and we all are thoughtless much of the time. Arendt’s effort is not to expunge thoughtlessness and prejudice, but to control them and limit their public impacts by ensuring that the world remains a plural world, one with multiple perspectives, whether those perspectives are strong or weak, open or closed.
The real danger Trump poses is not that he offers a return of the strong gods, but that he would have the strong gods rule as sovereign. His social media post this week that he is “King” simply reveals his joy in being in charge. Elon Musk revels in being CEO of the United States. Donald Trump is playing at being King. My guess is that Trump and Musk are overplaying their hands. There is a desire to unleash some stronger gods and there is a worry about weak gods. But the people of the United States don’t want a King. They do, however, want a more democratic and more open society.
Hannah Arendt also worried that our government had become too big and too bureaucratic. She feared, with Alexis deTocqueville, that we had lost the democratic spirit that emerges out of township governance. Such small town democratic governance is often crass, intolerant, and dangerous, but Arendt understood that popular rule also is the fuel that powers democratic and republican ideas of self-government. She worried that by empowering bureaucrats we were disempowering the people and risked abandoning the great American experiment in government by the people, of the people and for the people.
Where Arendt differs from Lyons is in her insistence that we protect against the inhuman threat of fascist and totalitarian rule. Arendt does not see the rise of technocratic government either as a consequence of the “open society” nor as a justification for a return to a closed society. The answer to the disempowerment brought about by bureaucratic managerial government is not a closed society, but a more "open society." Arendt would have us re-empower the people by engaging in local government, participating in citizens assemblies, and taking part in the activity of self-government. She is not opposed to allowing strong gods to flourish, but she is fully against promoting strong gods in a centralized and powerful federal government. The way to protect against the danger of strong gods is to multiply the sources and institutions of power. That is why Arendt celebrated the American constitutional principle of federalism and the multiplication of powers, alongside the refusal of sovereignty.
Most liberal-minded people today are fearful of public power. We say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, but the insufficiency of this formula is lately all too apparent. We are scared of the power that emerges when people act together. So we prefer a government of experts, not least because it frees us to spend our time on private pursuits like consumption and family. The disempowerment of the people in representative democracy embraces our bourgeois preference to be freed to pursue our individual interests, to be relieved of the duty of politics and public virtue. Much easier to leave governing to the experts.
For Arendt, the rise of massive technocratic bureaucracies leads to what she calls “the rule of nobody.” The fact that politics is apolitical and governed by technocratic departments does not mean that it is less tyrannical or less despotic. On the contrary, “the fact that no world government — no despot, per se — could be identified within this world government would in no way change its despotic character.” Such a bureaucratic government “is more fearsome still, because no one can speak with or petition this ‘nobody.’” Bureaucracy is anti-political because “any sort of rebellion would no longer be possible."
Against bureaucratic managerialism, Arendt, as does Lyons, understands that strong gods are part of the human experience, as are prejudice and thoughtlessness. None of us is without prejudice and we all are thoughtless much of the time. Arendt’s effort is not to expunge thoughtlessness and prejudice, but to control them and limit their public impacts by ensuring that the world remains a plural world, one with multiple perspectives, whether those perspectives are strong or weak, open or closed.
The real danger Trump poses is not that he offers a return of the strong gods, but that he would have the strong gods rule as sovereign. His social media post this week that he is “King” simply reveals his joy in being in charge. Elon Musk revels in being CEO of the United States. Donald Trump is playing at being King. My guess is that Trump and Musk are overplaying their hands. There is a desire to unleash some stronger gods and there is a worry about weak gods. But the people of the United States don’t want a King. They do, however, want a more democratic and more open society.