Why has the matter of liberty and the rule of law on one hand and lawless rule and despotism or tyranny on the other slipped out of focus in the cleverest writing of the past fifty years about the causes of the English Revolution?
Briefly, it slipped out of focus some time before the First World War when advanced historians as well as other advanced people assumed that all the political traits of a society, such as liberty and law, merely reflected its socioeconomic substructure; therefore to find the ‘real causes’ of any large upheaval in a society on must first look at the socioeconomic substructure. In the English-speaking world such people were so habituated to the rule of law that they had ceased to set a high value on its and had lost the capacity to imagine what a hell life would be without it. When it vanished elsewhere in the course of revolutions, they scarcely noticed the effects of its absence. After all, it had not actually vanished for them, and its absence elsewhere had no effect on them because they still enjoyed its presence.
There was no easy way before the First World War for historians to conceive that lawless rule was possible in a socially progressive society. Liberty and the rule of law, it seemed, would be natural concomitants of social progress, evolutionary or revolutionary. Only it would be in a fuller liberty and a truly just, nonexploitative law. In some lands, in order to deal with the enemies of progress, liberty and the rule of law might have to be suspended or delayed a while, soon to be restored or inaugurated, however, in their ultimate purity. For the men who saw the world this way it was unimaginable that any but the naïve could seriously imagine that an ultimate goal of political life or end of political action was or ever could be the achievement or maintenance of personal liberty and rule of law, those doubtless useful but somewhat old-fashioned items in the arsenal of the war against exploitation and alienation.
By the late 1930s the evidence had become overwhelming that the advanced views of the previous decades on liberty and the rule of law were nonsense. One had to be willfully blind in 1939 to believe that the political order merely reflected the socioeconomic base of a community. By then the evidence was in that, on the contrary, those who held unlimited control of the instruments of political violence and were ready to deploy them vigorously could within limits imprint on the socioeconomic base what structure they willed. The twin nightmare worlds of Stalin and Hitler had been built on the foundation of class relationships to the instruments of production profoundly divergent one from the other. By 1955 Khrushchev addressed the Twenty-second Congress, and by 1963 the novels of Alexander Solzhenitsyn had begun to appear in translation. By then to remain oblivious to the central importance of liberty and the rule of law in the ordering of human affairs ceased to be a mere intellectual defect and become a moral one. And finally, in 1974 the enormously rich people of the United States, and in 1976 the poor and backward people of Indian and Sri Lanka, showed beyond doubt that men of the most diverse cultures, of the utmost extremes of wealth and poverty, and of the most divergent relations to the instruments of production could be moved to decisive political action by the issue of liberty and the rule of law against arbitrary power and lawless rule.
And so the historiographic question is, how has it come about that in the midst of all this, in the midst of the hard evidence of their own experience, historians have wed themselves to views on the causes of the English Revolution that pay so little heed to the political concerns and motives for political action that conspicuously set men into motion then and now? It used to be said that historians reflect the views, biases, and preconceptions of their own day. Perhaps. If so, why the devil are present-day historians of England in the seventeenth century reflecting the views, biases, and preconceptions appropriate to the early 1900s, now obsolete for half a century? Why do they assume an intellectual stance suitable not to the political actuality of the past two decades hut more or less to the actualities from 1900 to 1925? That indeed is a problem of the English Revolution – a problem of his historiography, perhaps of the sociology or social psychology of knowledge, perhaps of the psychopathology of intellectuals. But in the mean time, let us historians drop this archaic nonsense. Enough already.
J.H. Hexter, ‘Power, Parliament, and Liberty in Early Stuart England’, Reappraisals in History (1979), pp. 216-217.