Following on yesterday’s post (below), I wanted to mention another idea that came up in the course of my summer class.  We talked, in various ways, about the notion of authority.  I must admit, I do not often think of authority separate from power.  Must be an occupational hazard of a political scientist: we tend to think first about power and generally assume that much emerges from it or centers on it.  In the case of authority that is not so unreasonable an assumption. The mere possession of power often confers a kind of authority; perhaps not an authority we are comfortable accepting without further justification, but a sort of authority nonetheless.  Indeed, power-holders go to great lengths to describe their authority in terms other than power.  Legitimacy is fundamental to politics.  But legitimation simply ties authority to power.  The more interesting question is what happens when authority is sundered from power?

     And that is the question I found myself asking my students: can there be authority without power?  There was silence at first but gradually we talked our way forward.

     One student mentioned the possibility of the authority of expertise: a person might specialize in and have deep knowledge of a particular subject, an understanding that confers a certain authority.  But that knowledgeable individual may not be in a position of power.  He or she may be asked to serve those in power, or may even challenge those in power with his or her expertise.  We can all think of instances, however, where power ignores or trumps this kind of authority.  Indeed, most intellectuals and academics know very well the impotence of their expert authority. 

     In the course of this conversation, I found myself thinking of the term “moral authority.”   Someone may appeal to a notion of right and wrong and do so in such a persuasive and appealing manner that, even though the protagonist has little or no power, listeners find themselves accepting or working for that appeal.  In its grandest form, moral authority rises up from the population at large, building into a righteous people power.  The US civil rights movement comes to mind.  The authority of right ultimately affects power.

     More often, I am afraid, the term “moral authority” implies impotence.  To say that someone or some organization possesses moral authority is to suggest the absence real power.  The UN has moral authority but its power to shape international relations is dependent on the interests of states.  The Dalai Lama has, for many Americans and Europeans, a certain moral authority but it is unlikely he will ever return to Tibet or if he does it will be because power holders in Beijing see it as in their interest to allow it.  

     And this all brought Mencius to mind.  He, and Confucius before him, construct a moral authority: they speak truth to power, moral truth as they understand it.  Mencius in particular seems never to shy away from pointing out to a kings or dukes the moral failings of their rule.  Indeed, Mencius and Confucius work to fuse moral authority and power.  They argue that the virtuous should rule and that the rule of the virtuous must be constantly held to high standards of benevolence. 

     In the end, of course, they failed.  Neither was, in his time, able to establish himself politically, nor cultivate a truly benevolent ruler – a “true king” – for very long.  Their moral exhortations live on, and continue to instruct us today, but power, in all too many places in the world, floats free from authority, both expert and moral. 

     We see this most clearly at present in the US, where the apparent exigencies of power convinced political leaders to accept a bad war and to abandon long established principles of humane treatment of prisoners of war.  Mencius would understand the frustration of those Americans who yearn for a reconnection of power and authority.