In Revolutionary France, Maximilien Robespierre emerged as a passionate advocate for the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity. But despite his initial commitment to justice, overreach made him synonymous with a catastrophic “Reign of Terror,” providing a lesson on the dangers of extremism. America’s progressives might want to put TikTok aside, crack a history book, and learn from this cautionary tale.
The lawyer and politician focused his rhetoric on the protection of the common people from abuses of the monarchy. But the Reign of Terror, which began a few years after the 1789 revolution, was itself abusive, characterized by his Committee of Public Safety's efforts purge France of perceived enemies of the revolution. They imprisoned and guillotined thousands, including ex-allies and innocents, equating dissent with treason.
Robespierre's insistence on ideological purity and absolutely loyalty, and his uncompromising insistence on a “Republic of Virtue,” where the unvirtuous were harshly dispatched, alienated many of his own allies, who began to fear for their own lives—and brought him to a sorry end.
The modern progressive movement, like the French Revolution, began with admirable goals: social justice, equality, and the protection of marginalized communities. Progressives have pushed for significant changes, addressing systemic issues like police brutality, racial discrimination, gender inequality, and environmental destruction.
They shared many goals with the classic liberals who still form the core foundation of the U.S. Democratic Party and who are essentially represented by President Joe Biden: affordable and perhaps universal healthcare, access to abortion, gun control, a more equitable sharing of the pie. When Bernie Sanders railed against “millionaires and billionaires” he was absurd to conflate the categories—but also right about inequality’s ills.
But in recent years, the movement he championed has overreached, alienating many liberals and risks undermining its own objectives. It is pushing voters to the right to such an extent that it can be fairly stated that former President Donald Trump would not be so competitive if not for the progressives.
What could be so annoying and dangerous that many are putting aside concerns like gun control and abortion?
Perhaps a good place to start is the call, quite popular a few years ago, to "defund the police." This slogan, intended to provoke a reevaluation of policing practices and redirect funds to community services, has been interpreted by many—including within the movement—as an outright abolition of law enforcement. Certainly, it sounds that way. While there are legitimate concerns about police misconduct and racism, the “defunding” notion is impractical and hugely unpopular.
Like Robespierre’s uncompromising approach toward perceived enemies, the "defund the police" movement has alienated moderate supporters who agree with the need for reform but not with such radicalism. It has also provided ammunition for critics who argue that progressives are out of touch with the realities of crime and public safety—for if taken literally it would make the most vulnerable people still more vulnerable to crime—more than they were ever menaced by any officer.
While the “defund” mantra has mercifully receded, permissiveness on crime in Democrat-run cities has handed the Republicans more political gifts: Progressive district attorneys prioritizing alternatives to incarceration; “sanctuary city” policies that limit cooperation with federal immigration enforcement; bail reform measures aimed at reducing pretrial detention for non-violent offenders, which may sound reasonable but undermines deterrence. The poster child is San Francisco, where open drug use, homeless encampments, and property crimes like shoplifting have been tolerated, with some stores even closing due to the financial impact.
Another contentious issue is the rise of "cancel culture," where individuals or organizations are ostracized to the point of societal excommunication for views or actions deemed unacceptable by a vocal minority policing a progressive orthodoxy—which is capable of insisting that non-women can give birth. While accountability is important, the punitive nature of cancel culture often resembles the Reign of Terror's purges. It may not result in actual killings—but careers and reputations are destroyed with little due process, echoing the revolutionary tribunals' summary executions.
This culture of intolerance fosters a climate of fear where people are afraid to speak out or engage in meaningful discussions. Just as Robespierre’s reign created a society rife with suspicion, repression, and resentments, so too does cancel culture undermine free speech and debate.
Next up: The progressive movement’s intense focus on identity politics—prioritizing race, gender, and sexual orientation above all else. While it’s good to address the unique challenges faced by different groups, this all-encompassing preoccupation can be devastating to building a cohesive society. It is driving away many who might otherwise be partners in the fight for overall social justice.
The progressive stance on immigration, perceived as advocating for open borders, has been another area of overreach. While compassion for immigrants and refugees is understandable, indiscriminate immigration can strain resources and social cohesion, upsetting ordinary people who have concerns about preserving a national culture. Ignoring legitimate concerns about integration and national security can draw a backlash—as is currently happening in France, where the far right is ascendant.
Robespierre’s indifference to the practical consequences of his policies ultimately led to his downfall. A coalition rose against him claiming his methods had become impractical and tyrannical and that the relentless purges were destabilizing France, undermining the very revolution they aimed to protect. He was quickly tried and executed by guillotine on July 28, 1794, along with 21 allies, ending the Reign of Terror and ushering in a period of relative moderation and stabilization.
Some believe to this day that he was scapegoated. But in effect, Robespierre’s “progressives” were whacked by a version of “liberals”—who wanted many of the same goals and once shared his revolutionary zeal, but were more moderate, tolerant, and introspective in their approach.
Progressives in the United States would be wise to heed that lesson. Today, they project a version of indifference and even disdain for the liberals who are still a majority in the American left and center. Because the progressives are a youthful movement, they may indeed represent the future—and so they readily dismiss liberal critics as “Boomers,” an ageist and arrogant slur.
It may not turn out so well for the progressives and their goals if the liberals conclude (perhaps after the excruciating Trump is gone) that they’re more dangerous than the right, and break up the alliance. Moderation is not helpful in all things—it will not bring you a Nobel Prize or a Wimbledon championship. But it is certainly advisable in politics at this turbulent, complex time.
Non-women can give birth. I’m friends with a transgender man who has, twice. I wouldn’t suggest that you tell him to his face that he isn’t a man, either. Of course, Progressives overreach. The Left is Utopian, and it’s the nature of Utopian movements to be uncompromising, leading to frequent absurdities and occasional massacres. But they also succeed in dragging the rest of us where we need to go. It wasn’t that long ago that same sex marriage was considered crazy and radical. Now it’s celebrated by many, tolerated by more. Transgender men being considered as men, even when they give birth, should follow the same trajectory.
No comment