tempt of ancient democracies to limit rigorously the right ofrncitizenship.rnSuch facts, it can be argued, illustrate the impoverishedrnimaginations and bigoted mindsets of the ancient world. IfrnAristotle had only known about democratic capitalism, hernwould have established his own Heritage Foundation, propagatingrnthe ideas of open borders and universal nations. AndrnPlato, once enlightened about global economies and thernpropositional nature of an American democracy in which anyonerncan be a citizen by believing selectively in the Declarationrnof Independence, would have insisted on the ultimate beaurngeste: bringing the ancestors of the Haitian boat people tornancient Greece, as full citizens.rnAt the very least, we are led to believe, James Madisonrnwould have been suitably broad-minded. Had not that AmericanrnFounder praised (in Federalist 51) the merits of an extendedrnrepublic, a regime that would avoid the claustrophobiarnand strife of ancient republics by opening American society tornas many groups as might want to come in? The ensuing diversityrnwould presumably protect us against the danger ofrnmajority factions, as proliferating heterogeneous groups wouldrnspread out along the Eastern seaboard. This appeal to Madisonrnas a multiculturalist is stupid, dishonest, or, what is morernlikely, both. Madison, in his comments on the composition ofrnan extended American republic, was referring to artisans, merchants,rnfarmers, Presbyterians, Anglicans, Methodists, andrnpossibly Catholics and Jews. But he was surely not speakingrnabout unemployed Rastafarians. He was not indifferent tornthe kind of cultural base American republicanism requiredrnto maintain the ordered liberty under English Common Lawrnthat was then, more than now, the birthright of Americanrncitizens. Mel Bradford may have turned himself into a movingrntarget by devoting his career to glossing this obvious point,rnbut it is obvious nonetheless. And what renders Bradford’s observationrnon the inherently restrictive nature of American republicanismrnso obvious is that the Founders intended to haverncommunities look after themselves. On this there was no disagreementrnbetween Federalists and Antifederalists—or amongrnmost Americans until the present century. The Madisonianrnsystem by which Americans lived assumed that regions and localitiesrnwould attend to their own affairs while operating togetherrnin dynamic tension. The federal government wouldrnmediate their differences, provide for the common defense,rnand regulate interstate commerce. But it was not there, atrnleast not until recently, to impose thought control on groupsrnthat in the absence of sensitivity training and handouts wouldrnbe unable, or so it is feared, to coexist in the same society.rnContrary to what Edwin Yoder states in his December 19,rn1992, syndicated column, the Bill of Rights did not firstrncome to be taken seriously “twenty or thirty years ago,” whenrnthe federal government began applying it against states and localities.rnIt had originally served as a safeguard for states’ rightsrnas well as for the rights of citizens within states against congressionalrnencroachments. That document goes back to arntime when a smaller and far more culturally homogeneousrnAmerica still practiced self-government, which presupposedrnstate and local control over access to voting and offices. As thernNinth and certainly the Tenth Amendments indicate, thatrnexercise in self-rule depended on keeping federal power limitedrnto certain specified tasks. To the question of whetherrnthat self-rule guaranteed equality to all American residents.rnthe answer is plainly no.rnUntil the 20th century, with the problematic exception ofrnrevolutionary France, democratic citizenship was never open torneveryone, not even to all residents of self-described democracies.rnSuch regimes have followed the principle that thosernwho are not of the political community, which sets up its ownrnrules for membership, do not exercise its political rights. Thusrnthe Swiss cantons only conferred full citizenship on malesrnwho had been born in them and belonged to their establishedrnchurches. Such circumscribing of citizenship does not indicaterndisregard for the practice of self-rule. Rather, it demonstratesrnthe continuity of the classical republican assumptionrnthat the possibility of self-rule hinges on the presence of culturalrnunity and of jealously guarded limits on citizenship.rnDemocratic pluralists reject this idea categorically. They insistrnthat Americans and other Westerners think of their societiesrnas perpetually incomplete and in need of diversity. Theyrnare not deterred by the prospects of the instability that resultsrnfrom trying to absorb more unlike things into a societyrnwhose collective existence has become steadily more precariousrnand violent. Speaking on behalf of the pluralist experiment,rnLeon Wieseltier in the New Republic last year scoldedrnlongtime social democrat and British poet Stephen Spenderrnfor disapproving of further Third World immigration into Europe.rnSpender saw such added pressure on countries alreadyrnafflicted with violence and social unrest as something onernought to avoid. Besides, he concluded, “the immigrants themselvesrnare by no means always upholders of democracy.”rnWieseltier, unsettled by his argument and by his referencernto a “global population hotch-potch,” stated in response thatrnSpender had confused the object and the source of the hatred:rn”Reactionary forces are not reacting at all, they are seizing anrnopportunity to act on a desire.” Moreover, “democrats arernnot born, they are made. Democracy is an instruction, arntaught discipline, and the instincts that it inhibits are commonrnto clay.”rnWieseltier’s own conception of democracy has nothing torndo with the practice of self-government or with training forrncitizenship in a community living by its own lights and customs.rnIt is a “taught discipline” that requires us to rise abovernwhat we are or, more accurately, used to be as a result of ourrnpolitical and cultural heritage and to open ourselves to imposedrnchange. And it is not we who are supposed to make orrnunmake that change as a prudential decision; we are only to allowrnit to happen to us—as “an instruction,” to use the pseudoclassicalrnrhetoric typical of the new democratic ideologues.rnAs I argue in my book on Carl Schmitt and the nation-state,rnwhat democratic pluralists chiefly want is a return to eroticrnpolitics, to the bonds of civic fraternity present in the ancientrncity, albeit under altered circumstances. In the new eroticrnpolitics, we shall live together in a global society that absorbsrnbut never excludes. Any retreat from that ideal is now identifiedrnin the popular press with tribalism or with a slipperyrnslope leading precipitately into Auschwitz.rnTherapeutic democracy, as practiced by a growing welfarernstate, has a symbiotic relationship to erotic politics. Indeedrnthat politics has become the ideal that fuels managerial tyrannyrnat home and abroad. In the absence of cohesive societiesrncapable of looking after themselves, sensitizing bureaucrats,rnparticularly social workers, have risen to political power. Andrnto some extent this ascendancy has been necessary to maintainrncivil peace among otherwise warring minorities. A vast bu-rn26/CHRONlCLESrnrnrn