The question is: what sort of values would the right-wing gurus like to see triumph? The simple answer is not liberal values--not the values of equal rights, freedom and individuality. Strauss and Bloom should not be regarded simply as conservatives. There is a difference between being conservative and being right-wing. Being conservative is primarily a disposition of sobriety and moderation where politics is concerned. Conservatives respect existing traditions and make their peace with the present. Being conservative is timeless, but being right-wing is a postmodern phenomenon; it is a response--a frenzied and furious response--to liberal modernity.

Strauss and Bloom are right-wing gurus. To the triumphant liberal modernity, being right-wing indicates a visceral hatred. Its goal is to turn back the clock on the successful liberal revolution of the last 300 years. Straussians are hostile to human rights in general, and the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in particular. But what is the reason for such animosity to freedom, justice and equality before the law?

Simply stated, Strauss and Bloom's answer is this: Equal rights give people equal dignity and this is simply contrary to nature. In nature people are not equal. Nature is profoundly hierarchical. Equal rights are an effort to remake nature in accordance with the desires of the rabble. Supposedly, the latter are so filled with resentment against their superiors that they demand the impossible--they demand to be their equals. Equal rights is a revolt of the inferior many against the superior few; it is a revolt against nature.

Somehow, it never dawns on the disciples that this is a profoundly flawed view. Equal rights before the law do not bestow equality of condition or equality of status in society. Equal rights provide only equality before the law, which is the absolute minimum that is required by justice. Of course, those who are enamoured of their own superiority have an aversion to every kind of equality, even the most formal and abstract sort; they fear that it will diminish the pleasure they take in the pathos of distance that makes it possible to look down on the inferior rabble.

What about freedom? Why would Strauss and Bloom wish to set themselves up as enemies of freedom? Briefly stated, their answer is that ordinary people, or what Strauss calls the vulgar, are not fit for freedom. Give them freedom and they will do nothing but pursue their own pleasures and neglect their duties to the state. Give them freedom and they will stop weeping and worshipping--they will drink, gamble and fornicate instead.

Strauss and Bloom are convinced that a state intoxicated with liberty will be weak and hence vulnerable to external aggression. They are certain that a populace that loves liberty too much will not be willing to lay down its life to defend the homeland. And this is the foundation of Bloom's critique of America.

But surely, Strauss and Bloom are wrong. America's fighting spirit is a testimony to the contrary. Americans are intoxicated by their love of liberty. It does not make them passive or unwilling to fight. For good or ill, they are fighters. They are not only wildly protective of their own liberty; they are also eager to impart it to the world--whether the world wants it or not. But the disciples of Strauss and Bloom are convinced, despite evidence to the contrary, that liberalism leads to nihilism and indifference, which in turn leads to fascism. The argument is flawed, to put it mildly. But Strauss and Bloom never make the argument explicitly. They merely point to Weimar as the classic model of liberalism and draw suggestive parallels with America that are intended as dark premonitions of disaster.

The comparison of America with Weimar is not persuasive, but it is never questioned by the minions. First, there is no reason to assume that fascists are nihilists. It is equally plausible to think of them as people who believed in an absolute standard established by nature--a hierarchical standard that was being violated by the modern world. The Nazis were the party of nature; they intended to restore the true order of things. There is nothing particularly nihilistic about their self-understanding. They were demagogues who came to power in a democracy. But they were neither liberals nor nihilists.

Second, liberals do not subscribe to the philosophy of Nietzsche. They defend freedom for the sake of truth. They defend freedom because they think it will create the conditions in which truth can best emerge. For they rightly believe that no one has a monopoly on truth. We all see it through a glass darkly. But it is precisely this monopoly on truth that the right-wing gurus aspire to have.

The enchantment of Strauss and Bloom with Rousseau is no accident. Rousseau is the architect of a democratic regime in which the towering figure of the Great Legislator looms large. The latter is to the democratic state what the tutor is to Emile. Just as Emile emerges helpless and dependent on his educator, so the masses are helpless in the absence of the great legislator who forms, shapes and defines the general will of the people. For Strauss and Bloom, Rousseau's Legislator possesses elements of Plato's philosopher-king and Nietzsche's superman.

	Strauss and Bloom’s answer is this: Equal rights give people equal dignity and this is simply contrary to nature.

The chicanery of this legislator-philosopher-superman is what Strauss and his entourage like to call the "ennobling of democracy." The idea is to manipulate the will of the people while making them believe that they are the supreme sovereign. But the sovereignty of the people is a noble lie. Or is it? Just how noble is it to indoctrinate, control and manipulate others? How ennobling is this to democracy? Is democracy not better served by leaders who tell the truth, leaders who inform and persuade the people rather than deceive and manipulate them? Strauss and Bloom are enemies of liberty more than democracy. Democracy makes it possible for supermen to manipulate the people. The difficulty is how to get the masses to consent to values that subvert hard-won liberal rights and freedoms. The ingenious solution is to use democracy itself to defeat liberalism. The idea is to turn the people against liberty and equal rights. But how is this to be done? I think the strategy is as follows.

The first step is to appeal to the people's religious beliefs. This is not so difficult when the populace is inspired by Christian  orthodoxy. Fallen humanity is not fit for freedom. Freedom can only lead to licentiousness and crime. Once the people are mobilized against liberty, then they can be trusted with power. The result is the rise of right-wing populism, which is the distinctive feature of neoconservatism--the philosophy that fuels the Alliance Party in Canada and the Republican Party in the United States.

The second step in the populist ploy is to flatter the people. Tell them that they are sovereign. Then convince them that having a charter of rights undermines their sovereignty because it supposedly gives too much power to judges. The result is the emergence of that grand enemy of neoconservatism--judicial review. The latter ostensibly allows judges to make law, which in turn robs Parliament, the only true representative of the people, of its sovereignty. So if the people wish to assert their sovereignty, they should rebel against the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, because contrary to all appearances, it surreptitiously robs them of their power and sovereignty.

This populist ploy pre-supposes that people are suckers; they probably are. That is why those of us who love freedom prefer to live in a society governed by law and not by the whims of a sovereign populace. The Charter does indeed set limits on the sovereignty of the people and their representatives; it sets limits on what sort of laws Parliament can pass; it sets limits on what the majority or their representatives can do to individuals and minorities; it is indeed an obstacle to the tyranny of the majority -the rule of the mob.

Inspired by right-wing gurus, neoconservatives are willing to gamble on the rule of the mob. Their hope is that the people will be dim-witted enough and mean-spirited enough to endorse their war against rights and liberties.

Even though Bellow has little insight into the political philosophy of his friend, his portrait of Bloom can hardly be considered a tribute. It does more to unravel Bloom than to praise him. It may be more suitably called Un-Ravelstein.