Political Theories for Students

Another source of tribute revenue came through legal procedures. People involved in court cases were often required to pay a fee. While some of this was to be given as restitution to the aggrieved party, a major portion went directly to the chief who was hearing and deciding the case. When people approached a chief to receive a legal ruling, they frequently came bearing gifts of tribute. People in the Western world consider gifts given in return for a political appointment or to obtain a favorable ruling in court as bribery. For people operating according to the rules of a patron–client system, such gifts are indications of seriousness and support. Someone able to mobilize substantial tribute is a person willing to make a real commitment to the cause. A person able to offer large amounts of money has the support and confidence of those who know him or her best. In addition to their value as measures of personal resolve and peer solidarity, such gifts might be considered user fees that pay for the costs of operating a government.

Tribute Someone who obtained a political office by offering tribute could then use that position to generate even more wealth. For example, someone appointed as a lower level chief, judge, tax collector, or ferry–crossing operator could then gather fees and tributes on an ongoing basis. Such an appointee would be expected to share a standard percentage with the patron who had made the appointment. Every office holder, except for the supreme chief, was both a patron and a client. Every person with the power to make a decision, offer access to a higher official, or provide important information had the right to collect tribute. In that sense, political offices became a source of ongoing revenue. Permission was not granted or advancement permitted because of merit or a legitimate claim. Rather, permission and advancement came when the proper amount of tribute had been paid and the proper degree of respect and deference had been offered.

While people of lesser rank often gave tribute to people with more power and status, leaders at the top gave gifts as demonstrations of their power and generosity. At times, such gift–giving was dramatic and lavish. In the nineteenth–century slave trading kingdom of Dahomey, which dominated the territory now known as Benin, the king gave gifts in a spectacular manner. Each year, when officials (the king’s clients) gathered at the capital, a large replica of a sailing ship was pulled into the main square. From the ship, the king’s servants threw out expensive trade goods to the assembled crowds. Such displays were tangible demonstrations that the king was the supreme patron whose strength, courage, and wisdom enabled him to

dispense largesse to the entire nation. At these same ceremonies, the king executed slaves as a way to give gifts of tribute to the ancestors and gods who stood above even him.

When African countries became independent, many of them around 1960, most people involved in the transition assumed that the new leaders would establish liberal democratic regimes. Those that did not, it was thought, would pursue the path of communism and Marxism. In spite of these hopes and expectations, by the end of the twentieth century it had become clear that virtually every African country followed the rules of patron–clientism instead of either democracy or communism. Parliaments, elections, budgets, regularized administrative procedures, and official legal codes were all routinely subverted in order to accommodate the values of the patron–client system. Large portions of most African budgets were managed in a way that conformed to the logic of patronage. For example, African heads of state routinely announced that they were giving massive “personal” gifts to schools, churches, communities, individuals, and organizations. If the national football teams won an important international tournament, the president might choose to give each player a personal gift such as a car, house, or money. Or, a communication from the president’s office might tell people that a city’s electricity has been restored because the president generously had donated oil to fuel the municipal generators. Similarly, jailed journalists released from detention were said to have gained their freedom because of the magnanimity of the head of state, not because the constitution or the law protected their right to freedom of the press.

Modern Africa

The current–day preoccupation with honoring African heads of state is further evidence of the pa- tron–client system in operation. As chief patron of the nation, the chief executive’s picture hangs in every business, is imprinted on every piece of currency, and appears first on the evening television news. When the president travels around the capital, he is transported in an extensive motorcade that includes elaborately costumed motorcycle riders, numerous armed vehicles, many black curtained limousines, several chase vehicles, and the automobiles of various ministers and government officials. For important occasions, such as the return from a trip abroad, the President is greeted at the airport by the entire cabinet; prominent church, educational, and business leaders; cultural dancers; a sometimes reluctant foreign diplomatic corps; and the press. School children may be marshaled to stand along the road and “spontaneously” cheer the returned leader whose dealings or negotia-

tions abroad are described in a laudatory fashion by the state–owned media.

The fact that so many officials and citizens of African countries accept these patterns as normal suggests that the practices should not be seen as immoral aberrations; rather, they should be seen as competing methods of conducting politics. Although Western politicians, journalists, and bankers condemn the African patron–client system as illegal and wrong, the system’s robust persistence shows that many Africans disagree. To some extent, modern Africans are torn between two worlds. On the one hand, most African states claim to be democratic, and most African legal codes condemn the practices of patronage. On the other hand, both leaders and followers engage in pa- tron–client politics. Many would consider a leader who refuses to dispense patronage as mean or stingy, and many would regard ordinary people who avoid participating in the patronage system as naïve or weak.

THEORY IN DEPTH

In spite of their ancient pedigree and their extensive distribution even in modern times, patron–client systems are orphans in the world of political theory. When Francis Fukuyama (1952– ) wrote his 1992 essay The End of History and the Last Man, he argued that only one political system, democracy, had retained its legitimacy and attractiveness at the end of the twentieth century. He noted that fascism and nazism have long been discredited and that the fall of the Soviet Union effectively ended the prospects of communism persisting as a viable system. Fukuyama did not even mention patron–client governments. For Fukuyama, patron–clientism does not exist or is inconsequential. Fukuyama’s views reflect the perspective of the political science community. Unlike other philosophies or systems such as democracy, socialism, communism, or even anarchism, the patron–client system has no supporters, advocates, or theorists. Textbooks about comparative politics generally divide the world’s political systems into democratic or authoritarian arrangements. Such books give scant attention to patron–client systems. Democracies are categorized as parliamentary or presidential, while authoritarian governments are described as totalitarian, communist, fascist, theocratic, or monarchical. Books on comparative politics often assume that governments not fitting easily into one of those two groupings eventually will evolve to become either democratic or authoritarian. Or, it is thought, a few unstable systems, such as Nigeria’s, may continue to vacillate between the

two. Implicitly, or even explicitly, such comparative politics books suggest that every nation eventually must choose between democracy and authoritarianism. Other comparative politics books sidestep the matter by placing governments that are neither democratic nor authoritarian into a non–political category. A large number of countries in Africa, Latin America, or Asia are not seen as responsive enough to be democratic or efficient enough to be authoritarian. These countries are then lumped into classifications that are more economic, social, chronological, or geographical than political. These states are often referred to as poor countries, developing nations (not modern), third–world countries, or southern–hemi- sphere countries. They are not labeled as patron–client regimes, which would place them in a formal political category.

When modern political scientists discuss pa- tron–client systems, they do so in a negative or dismissive manner. Governments strongly influenced by the principles of patron–clientage are regarded as archaic, inefficient, corrupt, and even criminal. Often, patron–client systems are described as systems on the path to collapse. Nevertheless, their resilience, adaptability, extensive distribution, and weed–like ability to spring up almost instantly in a political void are all characteristics that make such systems worthy topics for description and study. In spite of powerful efforts to eradicate patron–client systems, their ability to persist suggests remarkable durability and success.

Criticism of the patron–client system did not begin just with modern political theory. In the Old Testament Book of I Samuel, the people began to complain about the system of judges or patrons. Soon after 1000 B.C., people asserted that their patrons, the judges, were unable to maintain law and order or provide effective defense against invaders. Furthermore, critics expressed their displeasure by saying that their system was obsolete. Neighboring peoples were being ruled by kings. Monarchy was a more prestigious method of governance, and the Hebrew people did not want to be left behind.

In Greece, people came to the similar conclusion that patron–client structures were antiquated and inadequate. Plato expressed this most pointedly when he rejected both Homer and Homer’s heroes. For Plato, the practice of politics was to be above economic and personal considerations. Plato recommended that rulers live with only the barest of material possessions. A good ruler, he said, is someone who owns little or nothing. Plato tried hard to prevent personal loyalty and regard for kinship from affecting political decisions. In order to avoid any conflict of interest between the personal and the public, Plato recommended

that top political leaders live in a strict communist setting in which they own nothing and share everything. He even went so far as to suggest that leaders share a community of husbands and wives so that the bonds of marriage would not compromise a ruler’s impartiality and his or her ability to make judgments that were in the best interest of the entire community. Plato challenged the very heart of the patron–client system that celebrates personal loyalty and gives far more weight to relationships than to abstract and impersonal rules or procedures.

Pope Adrian IV

In the Middle Ages, patron–clientage was celebrated. Perhaps the best medieval defense of the pa- tron–client system was made by Pope Adrian IV (1100–1159) who led the Catholic Church in the twelfth century. Adrian’s views were recorded by his friend and critic, the political thinker John of Salisbury (1115–1180). In the twelfth century, both religious and secular institutions were organized according to the principles of patron–client systems. People at the top collected revenue by taxation, by rendering favorable legal judgments, by assisting people seeking appointments to offices, and by confiscating land or money. This wealth was used to support a lavish lifestyle and to gain the support of followers who were loyal so long as they continued to benefit from gifts, appointments, and opportunities to extract wealth from others. Anyone wanting to win a court case, gain a church or state office, or obtain shelter from being preyed upon by more powerful people sought the protection of a reliable patron. Of course, there was a price to pay for that protection.

Adrian’s analysis and defense of the patron–client system came in response to a series of pointed criticisms raised by John of Salisbury. Questioning the very heart of the patron–client system, John asked how patrons could justify the enormous flow of resources into the hands of the political elite. Prudent and cautious, John said he was not speaking for himself but for the many people who regarded the practice of exchanging money for favors and offices as oppressive and immoral. John then listed a host of problems within the Church of Rome. Because the Church in the twelfth century functioned like a secular state, John’s critique would have been equally applicable to the patron–client governments that existed in the rest of Europe. In fact, with its army, extensive network of taxation, court system, and vast administrative structure, the Church had a patron–client type of government that surpassed that of many regions and territories ruled by medieval princes.

John of Salisbury’s message John began by accusing the Vatican of having become an oppressive stepmother rather than a caring mother. The leaders in Rome, he charged, were vainglorious and proud lovers of money who lived in extravagant luxury. To maintain their opulent life in Rome, they extorted gifts and payments from subordinates throughout Europe. Furthermore, church judges did not decide cases on the basis of justice; rather, they bartered justice for a price. John noted that the only way to get any action from the church bureaucracy was to pay a bribe. In addition, he pointed out that church leaders stirred up strife among people of lesser power and influence in order to keep them from uniting and forcing meaningful change at the highest levels. Even the top leaders could not keep harmony among themselves. In their competition for power, position, and money, they preyed upon each other and their gains were short–lived. The Pope himself, John said sadly, was seen by many people as the worst offender of all. His avarice and duplicity had become an intolerable burden upon the faithful. The Church had become, John of Salisbury asserted, a wanderer in a trackless wilderness. The Church had strayed from the true way and had given itself over to duplicity and avarice. Where, John asked, was humility, self–restraint, and honesty?

Looking beyond the accusatory tone of John of Salisbury’s message, it is clear that he was describing an actively functioning patron–client system. Maintaining the flow of tributes (church taxes, bequests, offerings, bribes, and rents) into the coffers, or treasury, of Rome, the great bishoprics, and the powerful monastic orders was the main preoccupation of the church hierarchy. This money was used to support a lavish lifestyle and to provide political and military security for the top leaders. Although the ordinary people groaned under the weight of oppression, they were unable to unite against prominent leaders who used their money and influence to divide and weaken any potential opposition. In such a system, personal attachments and loyalties— not fair laws and courts, rational budgets, or predictable administrative procedures— determined how decisions were made and carried out. Decisions about church jobs and court cases were made on the basis of payment, not competence or justice. Leaders were far more concerned about building up strong groups of clients than they were with holding to principles and laws.

The Pope’s response In his response, Pope Adrian IV offered both an explanation and a defense of the patron–client system as it operated in the Middle Ages. A practical politician and administrator, Pope Adrian answered John of Salisbury by using an analogy in

MAJOR WRITINGS:

Adrian IV

Once upon a time all the members of the body conspired against the stomach, as against that which by its greediness devoured utterly the labors of all the rest. The eye is never sated with seeing, the ear with hearing, the hands go on laboring, the feet become callous from walking, and the tongue itself alternates advantageously between speech and silence. In fine, all the members provide watchfully for the common advantage of all; and in the midst of such care and toil on the part of all, only the stomach is idle, yet it alone devours and consumes all the fruits of their manifold labors. . .[In response, the other parts of the body] swore to abstain from work and starve the idle public enemy. . .[By the third day] almost all commenced to be faint. . .the eyes were found to be dim, the foot failed to sustain the weight of the body, the arms were numb, and the tongue. . .[could not speak]. Accordingly all took refuge in the counsel of the heart and after deliberation there, it became plain that these ills were all due to that which had before been denounced as the public enemy. Because the tribute which they paid it was cut off, like a public rationer it withdrew the sustenance of all. . . .And so. . .persuaded by reason, they filled the stomach, the members were revived, and the peace was restored. And so the stomach was acquitted, which although it is voracious and greedy of that which does not belong to it, yet seeks not for itself but for the others who cannot be nourished if it is empty. And so it is. . .in the body of the commonwealth, wherein, though the magistrates are most grasping, yet they accumulate not so much for themselves as for the others. . . .For the stomach in the body and the prince in the commonwealth

perform the same office. . . .Do not therefore seek to measure our oppressiveness or that of temporal princes, but attend rather to the common utility of all.

Pope Adrian IV admitted that rulers could be “voracious and greedy,” but he suggested such grasping was done for the common good. The rapaciousness of leaders was necessary to ensure that the state would have sufficient resources in order to operate and in order to ensure that resources were distributed generously to the people. Adrian saw the greed of the patron as essential to the health of the larger political structure. Implicit in Adrian’s argument is the notion that only a wealthy patron could be counted on as a reliable source of nourishment for the body politic. A poor king, pope, or prince would be unable to be generous to the people. A humble and impoverished leader could not “attend. . .to the common utility of all.” Adrian’s observations about the patron–client system reflect a frankness and honesty that some political leaders try to obscure. Adrian freely admitted that there is a high cost associated with government. To quote a modern cliché, he was simply saying “there is no free lunch.” He also acknowledged the fact that for a political system to function satisfactorily, the system must control substantial amounts of resources. He seems to say that the effective state must be greedy. For patronage to flow from the hands of the leader, tribute must flow into the leader’s treasury.

which he compared church and state government to the human body. In using this image, Adrian was drawing on an old tradition. Classical Greek and Roman political thinkers had often compared the political community to the body. But, while philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle had always equated political leadership with the head or the brain, the seat of decision–making and thought, Adrian said the leaders should be compared to the stomach instead. Adrian told a fanciful story about how the other parts of the body once became critical of the stomach because it only consumed while they all did the work. They noted that while the eyes did the seeing, the ears the hearing, the feet the walking, and the tongue the talking,

the stomach was idle. Yet, it consumed everything. From the perspective of the other body parts, it seemed that the stomach’s only action was to eat what came to the body through their efforts. As a result, those parts of the body decided to go on strike against the stomach. No longer, they agreed, would they put anything into the lazy stomach. The result, said Adrian, was nearly fatal because all the parts became too weak to function. After giving the matter some thought, they realized their plight had come about because of what they had done to their supposed idle enemy. They finally realized that the stomach was the most essential organ of the body for it served as a supplier for all the other parts. If the stomach went hungry, all went

hungry. Newly enlightened, the other body parts then decided to “fill the stomach.” The result was the restoration of all the parts and the return of peace. The stomach, asserted Adrian, should not be regarded as evil. The stomach was not eating just for itself, but for the entire body.

Pope Adrian’s point was that the patronage in a political system should be respected and accepted, not condemned. Instead of begrudging the lavish rewards obtained by high church or political leaders, people should recognize the essential nature of their leaders’ work. Explicitly comparing the food entering the stomach to tribute demanded by temporal princes, Adrian reminded John of Salisbury that without very large inflows of wealth into the political system, nothing could flow back to government functionaries or to the people themselves. Like a paymaster in the army, a king, pope, or prince could distribute goods and services in the commonwealth only so long as resources were coming in constantly.

The Middle Ages

At the popular level, medieval ideas of government were even more supportive of patron–client concepts. The medieval lord or knight was portrayed as the beneficent embodiment of the big man, the central figure in a patron–client system. As can be seen in medieval mythology such as the stories of King Arthur, the big man was regarded as a defender of the peace who slew supernatural foes such as dragons and protected the people against temporal foes such as robbers and enemy warriors. The big man was also a defender of truth and morality. While Arthur’s knights searched for the Holy Grail, a symbolic way of saying that they sought the restoration of divine grace and perfection on earth, other medieval big men struggled to destroy Muslims and Turks, people thought to epitomize aggressive forms of chaos and evil. Finally, the big man was regarded as an individual of great strength, courage, and piety. Social order and good government did not come because of structured and institutionalized bureaucracies or systems. Rather, they depended upon the personal qualities and character of a big man at the center. Such leaders had more in common with the ancient heroes like Deborah or Odysseus than with modern monarchs or tyrants.

The Middle Ages marked both the high point of patron–client political systems and the beginning of modern authoritarian monarchies that can be seen as institutionalized and centralized adaptations of pa- tron–client arrangements. Therefore, the medieval period was marked by thinkers making an intellectual transition to monarchy. The great medieval theologian and political thinker Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274)

saw patron–clientage as consistent with the very nature of the universe God had created. First, like the ancient Greeks, Aquinas observed that human beings, and even many animals, were intended to live in groups. Second, Aquinas believed that just as the universe required a divine creator and guide, the human community needed a political guide or head. Although Aquinas was speaking of monarchies, he noted that kings bore a certain resemblance to the father (pater or patron) of a household. Thus, Aquinas continued to think of the monarchy in terms of patron–client concepts. Very suspicious of democracy, he insisted that the best political system would be organized around a father–like figure. But, rejecting tyranny, he insisted that political rule must aim at the common good of the multitude rather than the private good of the ruler. The ruler, said Aquinas, must function as a shepherd whose task is too feed the flocks. Unlike Adrian IV, Aquinas was not willing to justify the most crass elements of the patron–client system. While Adrian defended the greedy patron, Aquinas said “woe to the shepherds that feed themselves,” and he condemned the tyrant who “seeks his own benefit.” Nevertheless, Aquinas did not reject the concept of a patron–client type of government. He only insisted that the sheep as well as the shepherd should be fed.

It is evident that for both Pope Adrian and Aquinas, the image of “eating” was central to the pa- tron–client system. But, this concept was most fully developed in African political thought. In traditional Africa, political ideology was recorded not in books or letters, but in myths and legends passed down from one generation to another through oral recitation. By telling stories, many of them entirely imaginary, African people expressed their opinions about what worked, what was moral, and what had always existed. Often their deepest political and social values were articulated by describing a man or woman who supposedly was the original human being, the first settler in the land, the founding chief, or the initial farmer or hunter. That person and his or her actions were regarded as normative for all times. What they did was seen as ideal and a model for successive generations.

The Legend of Kuaba

Legendary stories of political origins in Africa describe a patron–client system. The Kanyok people who live in the Congo tell one story about an original set- tler–chief named Kuaba. (The term kuaba means “to distribute”). According to the tale, Kuaba was a great hunter who came to a land where people did not know how to hunt. He killed a large animal and distributed the meat to the grateful locals. As a result, the local people made Kuaba (the distributor) their chief, and

his descendants have continued to rule the area. Clearly, Kuaba is a big man in a patron–client system. Had he lived in modern America, his name would not have been “Kuaba” but instead would have been “Pork Barrel.” Furthermore, “Pork Barrel” would have been regarded as a title of honor, not of scorn. Other Kanyok stories affirm the central importance of patron– clientage to politics. Many stories talk of chiefs who fell from power because they became drunk and failed to hold a feast or distribute food. These stories should not be taken literally any more than the American cliché “he threw his hat into the ring” should be understood as a statement about headgear. The accusation of drunkenness was another way of saying a chief was inept or weak. The failure to hold a feast was a symbol for not sustaining the practice of redistribution, which was essential to the entire patron–client system. Kings and chiefs did not lose their office because they refused to follow the law, because they were dishonest, because they made unpopular appointments, or because they did not protect human rights. Rather, they fell from power because they were unable to redistribute political spoils to their supporters. As a result, their followers drifted away and transferred their allegiance to another chief or contender for office. The true test of a system was not whether it was law–abiding, democratic, or efficient in terms of achieving goals. The true test was its success in satisfying the people through the practice of pork barrel politics.

While in much of Africa patron–client values have remained the ideal even in modern times, in Western society patron–clientage has given way to more supposedly rational forms of politics and economics. In The Prince, Machiavelli rejected the idea of generous material liberality, the lynchpin of pa- tron–clientage. Machiavelli noted that a ruler who spent his or her own resources on building up a base of supporters would eventually run out of wealth and lose the ability to retain people’s loyalty. A ruler who spent the resources of others would need to tax or plunder his subjects to obtain the means to maintain the patronage system. Such a policy would result in resentment and hostility leading to disloyalty and even revolt. Better, Machiavelli argued, to be seen as a miser than as rapacious.

Rousseau and Beyond

Later Western political thinkers unanimously agreed that the capricious and materialistic aspects of the patron–client system were both inefficient and immoral. Swiss–French philosopher Jean–Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778) is but one example of such thinkers. To some extent, twentieth–century govern-

ments, whether democratic or authoritarian, follow in the wake of Rousseau. Like virtually all other modern thinkers, Rousseau vests complete authority in the state. While one may argue about whether he was a precursor of democracy or totalitarianism, it is clear that he left no place for individual challenges to the sovereignty of government. A legitimate government expressed the “general will” that superceded all expressions of parochial interests. There was no place for selfishness in Rousseau’s state. The rule of law, not the rule of individual patrons, was the only guarantee of human freedom.

In any case, with Rousseau and almost all thinkers since his time, political philosophers assumed that equality and impartiality were essential for a well–functioning government. One person–one vote, secret ballots, impartiality before the bar of justice, and equal access to all government services are key components of political systems that reject the principles of patron–clientage. Modern governments, whether democratic or authoritarian, claim to be fair, impersonal, and predictable. Systems not heroes, budgets not bribes, and courts not connections are supposed to govern political affairs in the modern state.

The thinker who did the most to challenge the moral and philosophical underpinnings of patron– client practices was Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832). A child prodigy, Bentham developed the intellectual foundations of modern utilitarianism. In his Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation

(1789), Bentham argued that the only legitimate basis for judging any political action was to measure the pleasure or pain that action produced. Reason tells us, he said, that no one can justify actions that result in more pain than pleasure. Even painful endeavors such as war or punishment of criminals are carried out in the expectation of reducing pain and increasing pleasure in the long run. Central to Bentham’s thought was the idea that pleasure and pain needed to be judged according to how extensively they were experienced. While criminal activity might conceivably bring pleasure to one individual, the sum total of the pain experienced by the many victims would far exceed the sum total of the pleasure experienced by the criminal. While a bribe might benefit both the giver and the taker, their gains would be more than offset by the totality of losses to society as a whole. Bentham’s reasoning led him to reject political actions or systems that rewarded individuals at the expense of the larger group. Predictably, he opposed all patron–client arrangements. One of Bentham’s central ideas was that all political appointments should be based on merit and that merit must be ascertained through open and competitive examinations. More than any other

thinker, Jeremy Bentham has been credited with having affected the direction of modern British domestic politics. Many of his followers were elected to Parliament, where they put his principles into law. In the 1800s, Britain adapted a public health system, a national education system, open competition for civil service jobs, and more rational methods of organizing government departments. All of these reforms resulted in more equitable government systems that provided higher levels of service to every citizen regardless of social standing or personal connections. Now, people had a right to government assistance simply because they were English citizens, not because they managed to attach themselves to a powerful patron. Now, individuals were appointed to positions of leadership because of competence and intelligence rather than because of their family or wealth. While actual practices often fell short of these ideals, nineteenth–century England did make important progress in moving away from a patron–client system.

John Rawls

John Rawls (1921– ), who speaks of the importance of a “veil of ignorance,” built an entire theory of justice on principles that challenge the deepest inclinations of people operating patron–client systems. His theory proposes that a person’s wealth or status should have no bearing on governmental policy. To make this happen, Rawls argues that every deci- sion–maker should act as though he or she has no knowledge of whether they would benefit or lose from their decision, no knowledge of their social standing or economic position, and no knowledge of their strengths or weaknesses. Any expectation of personal gain or advantage should be put aside when public affairs are at stake. Thus, taxes should be assessed with the complete fairness and objectivity that could come only if the decision–maker could not know how he or she would be affected. Thus, legal penalties, zoning decisions, or constitutional changes should always be put into place by people acting as though they have no inkling of the consequences for themselves. In contrast to Rawls’ veil of ignorance, a patron–client system is based on the premise that every political decision is made in order to give special advantage to favored individuals.

Bentham and Rawls are but two of many modern political thinkers struggling with the issue of objectivity and fairness. For these thinkers, a concern for absolute even–handedness and impartiality represents one of the most critical tests of any good government policy. A second set of tests measures efficiency. Can a given policy or action be implemented with the lowest possible cost and effort for the greatest possible

MAJOR WRITINGS:

A Theory of Justice

The principles of justice are chosen behind a veil of ignorance. This ensures that no one is advantaged or disadvantaged. . .by the outcome of natural chance or the contingency of social circumstances. Since all are similarly situated and no one is able to design principles to favor his particular condition, the principles of justice are the result of a fair agreement or bargain.

For John Rawls in A Theory of Justice, every law, political decision, or governmental structure should be enacted or put into place without even the slightest accommodation to a person’s wealth, connections, or status.

result? Political philosophers such as Rawls and Bentham are the ideological voices of modern government. Whether democratic or authoritarian, all modern governments have gained, or claim to have gained, a monopoly over the values and resources that had once been controlled by successful patrons for unequal distribution to their clients. Modern bureaucracies regularize everything so that favoritism is both difficult and illegal. Long–range budgets make it hard for political leaders to use government resources to cultivate privileged constituencies. Civil service examinations prevent leaders from making non–merit appointments to their favorites. The hope is that these measures will bring high levels of efficiency and fairness. All of the resources of the state will be used for the greatest common good and happiness. Nothing will be diverted for the private pleasure and power of a privileged elite supported by a cadre of followers purchased through political spoils. Most apologists for modern government regard patron–client systems as dangerous and immoral enemies that must be eliminated.

Goran Hyden

Goran Hyden, an academic who has also worked with development agencies in Africa, advances a more sympathetic analysis of patron–client systems. Labeling patron–client systems as “economies of affection,” Hyden notes that in many countries of the world, people make economic and political decisions with the

expectation of solidifying personal relationships rather than with the hope of material profit. People who manage to acquire surplus resources invest their wealth in other people, not in impersonal operations. Thus, a man or woman with extra money will give the money either as a gift to a patron or a loan to a client. They are less likely to put the money in a bank or even plow it back into their own private business. Hyden argues that people investing in the “economy of affection” do so quite rationally. For many people, the most reasonable option is entrusting the wealth with a patron or client in hopes of reaping future favors or assistance. By accepting the gift, a patron obligates himself or herself to provide future protection, partiality, and aid. By taking a loan, a client enters into a relationship of personal and financial liability. Banks may collapse and businesses are risky. Investing money in patrons or clients who are friends and relatives is regarded as more secure. Just as people with material wealth invest in the economy of affection, people with political resources or needs do so as well. Someone with the power to appoint, to offer a contract, or to make a legal decision will do so in a way that strengthens a personal bond. Instead of offering an official job to a person who has no personal link to the giver, it is more logical to offer the job to someone who would need to and who would be able to return a favor.

THEORY IN ACTION

At the beginning of the twenty–first century, pa- tron–client systems had no philosophical advocates nor were they embodied in any formal constitutional or legal structures. From the perspective of political theory or constitutional law, patron–client systems do not exist except as aberrations and illegalities. Nevertheless, when looking at how governments actually function, patron–client systems continue as active members of the modern political community.

Many governments in Asia follow the principles of patron–clientage. For example, the Suharto family of Indonesia and the Marcos family of the Philippines amassed enormous fortunes and great political power through a system of awarding favors to themselves and richly rewarding their political cronies. Although both countries held elections, people voted along the lines of patronage blocs. Both countries contained some of the marks of authoritarian systems, but bureaucrats, party officials, and regional constituencies acted according to the rules of patron–clientage; they followed presidential orders only if they believed they could extract substantial personal or group rewards by

doing so. Additionally, people in those countries organized themselves into political parties, even though personal loyalty was far more important than ideologies or political principles. Both countries also had carefully crafted legal systems, but court cases were decided on the basis of friendship and client support rather than on judicial merit.

Decidedly more democratic than either Indonesia or the Philippines, India has also been ruled by a patron dynasty. In India, the Nehru family (Motilal Nehru, Motilal’s son Jawaharlal, Jawaharlal’s daughter Indira Gandhi, and Indira’s sons Rajiv and Sanjay) controlled a patronage network associated with the dominant Congress Party. Protection for Indian businesses, subsidies for workers and farmers, and bureaucratic jobs for party loyalists were important elements of patronage dispensed by the Congress Party and the Nehru dynasty. As in Indonesia and the Philippines, high–ranking people benefited personally from special financial arrangements that grew out of their political influence.

Japan

Japan offers an important example of the tension between the theoretical ideal of democracy and the day–to–day reality of patron–clientage. The Japanese constitution, written after World War II by the American occupation authorities, is highly democratic. However, the actual operations of the Japanese political system are conducted as much according to the rules of a patron–client system as they are according to the principles of liberal democracy. This is especially evident in the operations of the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), Japan’s dominant political party. The LDP name suggests both that it is liberal (open, free, and innovative) and democratic (a bottom–up organization giving great voice to the people). For almost all of the post World War II period, Japanese politics have been dominated by the Liberal Democratic Party. Although founded in 1955 to prevent the emergence of a socialist government, the party is not organized around a political ideology. Rather, the party is made up of groups of party factions whose main goal is to attract faithful clients and to obtain and distribute the spoils of patronage. The leaders of the factions stay in power by rewarding their supporters and making alliances with other faction leaders. No faction leader has a political platform or agenda that is much different from the platform or agendas of other leaders. The key qualification for becoming a faction leader is demonstrated success in accessing funds for the faction. Such funds might come from the central party treasury or from arrangements, often secret, with big business.

The LDP Ambitious party members make their way up through the ranks of the party, not by staking out a clear ideological position or even by appealing directly to the voters. Rather, they advance by attaching themselves (as clients) to powerful factions or faction leaders (patrons). A junior politician who is successful in gaining the support of a strong political patron can count on party sponsorship during a campaign. This sponsorship brings him or her money, assistance in organizing, and aid with publicity. The top faction leaders or patrons who extend this help then can count on the backing of their client colleagues when making a bid for a cabinet position or even for the posts of prime minister or LDP president. To a very large extent, the LDP is devoid of ideology or a clearly articulated political agenda. As a result, internal debates within the party do not deal with ideological differences but with personal loyalty and the distribution of political spoils. Personal popularity or great oratorical skills are not important ingredients for political advancement in the Japanese patron–client arrangement.

Because political advancement depends on successfully manipulating the patron system, Japanese politics tends to be dominated by older politicians who have had time to build up a base of clients. As a result, when a faction leader dies, another senior leader takes over and attempts to hold the faction together by using the same patron–client practices. These senior members of the LDP are involved in deals, intrigues, and maneuvers designed to maximize their power and influence. Money and promises are the main resources they use in a quest that is for personal political gain rather than for the public good. In a pa- tron–client system, people with political power use their position or influence to dispense favors, open doors, or help others circumvent rules. In return, they receive money, loyalty, and support. Both in the 1970s and 1980s, Japanese prime ministers and other high officials were implicated in scandals involving bribes, expensive gifts, and stock. By accepting money from large corporations such as the Lockheed Corporation or Recruit Company, those politicians gained resources that they could use to maintain their hold over lower level politicians (clients) in their factions.

In its internal operations, the LDP functions as a network of political patrons and clients. Since the time of its founding in 1955, the LDP has protected its primary client base of business and farmers. Farmers are heavily subsidized and protected, while businesses are shielded from competition from abroad. In return, both groups have provided unwavering loyalty to party bosses. Even after Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka (1918–1993) was convicted of taking bribes in 1983,

his faction remained dominant because he was a master of patronage and protection. Tanaka’s group lost out to another faction only after he suffered a debilitating stroke.

Perhaps because patron–client structures are so pervasive internally, Japanese politicians accept an international political arrangement that is essentially pa- tron–client in nature. After suffering defeat in World War II, Japan switched from being America’s enemy to becoming one of America’s friends. To a large extent, the relationship was a patron–client association. Not only did the United States act as demilitarized Japan’s main protector, the United States also served as Japan’s main export market. As Japan’s patron, the United States provided both military and economic security. In return, Japan as client offered friendship, loyalty, and deference.

The family To a large extent, the patron–client system that dominates Japanese politics reflects the type of arrangements the Japanese use in their families. Traditional Japanese families look to a patriarch, an individual sometimes referred to as the “main pole,” for leadership, protection, and guidance. In a family, personal attachment is far more significant than rules or abstract formulas. The family is governed by bonds of affection and trust. People within the family are given preference over people outside the family; no one would think it unfair or unethical if a family member received special treatment that gave him or her an advantage over non–family members. People find their personal security in the partiality offered to them in a family. An individual is protected, assisted, and honored because he or she is in the family. In Japan, the same kind of logic prevails within the larger political world. What outsiders see as corruption and chicanery is regarded by people in Japan as faithfulness or even patriotism. They find nothing wrong with awarding government contracts to political supporters, and they are willing to pay higher prices for products in order to protect Japanese businesses. Until the recession that plagued Japan throughout much of the 1990s, few Japanese people questioned the cozy pa- tron–client relationships that dominated politics or that bound politics and business.

Argentina

Argentina and Mexico provide examples of how patron–client systems have long dominated politics in Latin America. Juan Perón (1895–1974) and Eva (Evita) Perón (1919–1952) exemplified all the characteristics of successful patrons, including gift–giving and an image of being larger than life.

BIOGRAPHY:

Juan Perón

Born in 1895, Juan Perón rose from a middle– class background to become the charismatic, strong man ruler of Argentina. A military officer, he participated in a coup that unseated President Ramon Castillo in 1943. In the new government, Perón became director of the National Department of Labor. Perón took advantage of this position to build up a strong client base among the workers called descamisados (those without shirts) by winning for them benefits such as better wages, social security, and housing subsidies. By 1944, Perón was able to use this power base to oust the president and install a friendly general in office. Although Perón’s rivals managed to have him arrested in 1945, Perón’s worker client base mobilized by the thousands to protest his detention. About this time, Perón married the enormously popular actress Maria Eva Duarte. Known as Evita, she is the woman recalled in the Broadway production and the Hollywood movie. Evita strengthened her husband’s standing among the working masses and, in 1946, Juan Perón was officially elected president.

The Peróns maintained their power though typical patron–client type activities. First, Juan Perón provided generous economic rewards for his most important client supporters. When he first came into office, the Argentine economy was flush with revenues the nation had earned during World War II when it exported food. Perón was able to draw on budgetary surpluses to reduce the length of the work week, institute paid vacations, and offer retirement benefits to the workers. In addition, through a publicly supported charitable foundation, Evita dispensed about ten million dollars annually to the poor. People were led to believe that government–sponsored welfare came to them because of Eva Perón’s personal concern about their lives. Second, both Juan and Eva Perón cultivated their images as people who were larger than life, perhaps even semi–divine. Statues were erected in conspicuous locations, children were indoctrinated about the virtues of the Peróns, and many public places

were named in their honor. State propaganda encouraged people to regard Perón as powerful and magnanimous; he was presented as the patron from which all good things flowed. Eva Perón, who rose from very humble origins, was adored by Argentina’s poor as having been one of them. She was seen as a type of goddess and mother figure who loved and protected the disadvantaged. Although calculating and manipulative, she succeeded in maintaining a public persona of charm, generosity, and compassion. People in Argentina regarded Eva as a woman who had a sincere concern for their well being. As the “softer side” of Perón’s regime, Eva kept many citizens from recognizing the exploitative aspect of the vast patronage machine that kept Perón in power. When she died of cancer in 1952, Perón and the nation mourned her as a saint.

Perón’s regime began to fall apart after Eva’s death, partially because his popularity waned without his wife. Also, his extravagant spending had placed severe strains on the economy. Perón could no longer afford the largesse that had held together his client network. As a result, people turned against him and, in 1955, a military revolt forced him to resign and flee into exile.

But, Perón was not finished. The governments that followed Perón proved to be ineffective. Over the years, Perón’s reputation as a generous patron actually increased. Although the Perónist political party was outlawed, the number of people supporting Perón actually increased. Typical of leaders operating in a patronage system, Perón presented himself as non– ideological, and he drew support both from the extreme right and the extreme left. Both groups regarded him as a potential savior. Unable to obliterate Perón’s memory, in 1972 the government allowed him to return. At first he operated behind the scenes, but in 1973 he ran for the presidency and was elected by a landslide. Perón never had time to demonstrate his ability to operate his rebuilt patron–client system because he died in July of 1974.