A decade ago, I’d have proudly – and smugly – donned my “I’m a liberal” badge. What’s not to like about liberalism, the idea that people are free to live their lives the way they want, so long as they’re not harming anyone else, and the state promotes equality of opportunity through a decent welfare state? It’s the politics of liberalism that paved the way for legislative reforms on race discrimination and gay marriage that have gone hand in hand with declining levels of social prejudice.
I still regard these as important markers of progress. But today I feel sheepish about how simplistic my worldview used to be. Liberalism has much to offer, but there are risks in embracing it as an overarching political philosophy without a degree of humility about its shortcomings: its hollow silence over how to navigate knotty ethical issues where society needs some kind of shared understanding. This queasiness about morality means liberals sometimes look the other way when others smuggle in controversial ethical assumptions under the guise of choice and autonomy.
