John   Keane,   The   Life   and   Death   of   Democracy   (London:   Simon   &   Schuster,   2009),   xxxiii  +  958  pp.   In  a  promotional  video  broadcast  to  accompany  the  publication  of  John  Keane’s   The   Life   and   Death   of   Democracy,   the   author   points   to   the   political   project   of   George   Bush   Jr.   as   having   provided   the   original   inspiration   for   the   book.   He   recalls   a   speech   delivered   by   the   former   President   to   mark   the   twentieth   anniversary  of  the  National  Endowment  for  Democracy  in  Washington  in  2003,   in   which   Bush   claimed   that   ‘the   swiftest   advance   of   freedom’   in   the   2,500-­‐year   history   of   democracy   had   occurred   in   the   period   since   the   Second   World   War.   There  were  many  reasons  for  this  triumph,  Bush  conceded,  but  one  cause  stood   out  from  all  the  rest.  ‘It  is  no  accident’,  he  observed,  that  the  global  progress  of   democracy   took   place   during   a   time   when   the   world’s   most   influential   nation   ‘was  itself  a  democracy’.                Among   the   most   consequential   opinions   expressed   by   George   Bush   Jr.   in   that   speech   from   just   over   six   years   ago   was   the   idea   that   the   seeds   of   democracy   ought  to  be  planted  in  the  Middle  East.    Brimming  with  petty  dictatorships  and   autocratic  monarchies,  the  region  needed  to  be  reconstructed  along  democratic   lines.   This   great   task   would   not   be   easily   achieved,   but   where   there   was   a   will   there   would   be   a   way.   The   best   way,   it   seemed   to   Bush,   was   to   create   a   brand   new   democracy   between   Iran   and   Jordan.   Neighbouring   countries   would   then   succumb   to   the   allure   of   democratic   freedom,   breaking   the   shackles   of   tyranny   with  the  support  of  the  United  States.                Of  course,  as  John  Keane  knows,  it  didn’t  work  out  that  way,  and  his  book  sets   out   to   ‘take   on’   the   assumptions   that   informed   the   Bush   agenda.   This   ambition   encourages   Keane   to   retell   the   story   of   democracy   from   its   inception   to   the   twenty-­‐first   century   in   such   a   way   as   to   undermine   the   core   components   of   Bush’s  vision.  First  he  challenges  Bush  on  the  terrain  of  history.  He  then  targets   the   Bush   ideal   as   counterproductive   in   practice.   Few   readers   will   feel   that   the   author   has   set   himself   a   difficult   task   in   tackling   the   Bush   programme.   Nonetheless,  to  tell  the  tale  of  democracy  is  not  easy  to  do  well.                By  exposing  Bush,  Keane’s  aim  is  in  fact  to  challenge  what  he  takes  to  be  the   prevailing   myths   about   the   origins   and   progress   of   democracy   in   the   West.   Prominent   among   these   supposed   myths   is   the   notion   that   democracy   was   invented  by  the  Greeks.  Against  this  assumption,  Keane  insists  that  popular  self-­‐ government   pre-­‐dates   the   Athenian   example   by   about   two   thousand   years.   He   points   out,   for   example,   that   popular   assemblies   existed   in   the   cities   of   Syria-­‐ Mesopotamia   long   before   the   appearance   of   Pericles   or   Demosthenes.   The   invention   of   democracy   has   been   associated   since   George   Grote’s   History   of   Greece   (1846–1856)   with   the   emergence   of   the   Athenian   people   (demos)   as   a   body  seeking  to  assert  its  power  (kratos).  But  Keane  is  eager  to  highlight  the  fact   that  the  idea  of  the  ‘demos’  already  lurked  in  the  Mycenaean  term  ‘damos’;  and   before  that,  the  administration  of  political  life  on  the  basis  of  popular  power  was   a  feature  of  city  life  from  Babylon  to  Urkesh.                Keane   goes   further.   Not   only   is   the   common   scholarly   view   that   democracy   was   inaugurated   by   the   reforms   introduced   by   the   Athenian   Aristocrat   Cleisthenes   in   508/07   BC   wrong-­‐headed,   so   too   is   the   apparently   naïve   assumption   that   it   spread   from   West   to   East.   ‘Ex   oriente   lux’,   Keane   declares:   democracy   is   a   Phoenician   gift   from   the   Middle   East   to   the   West.   Moreover,     1   democratic   values   are   alleged   to   have   flourished   in   the   vicinity   of   the   Persian   Gulf  down  to  and  including  the  advent  of  the  Prophet  Mohammed.  Keane  takes   what  he  describes  as  the  Orientalist  assumptions  rife  among  nineteenth-­‐century   political   thinkers   like   Thomas   Erskine   May   and   Alexis   de   Tocqueville   to   have   set   the   terms   of   analysis   that   frame   our   standard   histories   of   democracy,   with   the   result  that  Eastern  and  Arab  cultures  have  been  deemed  unfit  to  receive  the  gift   of  freedom.                Keane’s  account  of  the  flourishing  of  democratic  values  among  early  Muslim   societies   is   designed   to   undermine   this   pervasive   prejudice.   Accordingly,   the   ‘golden’   centuries   of   early   Islam   are   taken   to   have   perpetuated   the   tradition   of   popular  self-­‐government,  whilst  also  developing  indigenous  systems  of  popular   responsibility  and  power  sharing,  all  of  which  happily  looks  forward  to  Keane’s   own  declared  partiality  for  ‘monitory’  systems  of  democratic  accountability.                Keane’s   narrative   is   spread   over   a   thousand   pages,   mixing   detailed   discussion   with   panoramic   synopses   as   it   progresses.   This   medley,   in   turn,   is   interspersed   with   a   succession   of   tributes   to   the   bold   originality   of   the   book’s   own  claims.  There  are  problems  with  its  detailed  scholarship,  and  problems  with   its   overarching   vision   too.   ‘Scholarship’,   in   fact,   is   not   the   right   word.   The   author’s   method   instead   is   to   deploy   arbitrarily   selected   pieces   of   scholarship   drawn  from  the  existing  literature.  For  instance,  he  cites  the  work  of  important   German   and   Swiss   historians   of   Athenian   democracy   –   Christian   Meier,   Jochen   Bleicken,  Kurt  Raaflaub  –  but  without,  it  seems,  having  properly  understood  the   implications  of  their  arguments.                In  debunking  the  idea  that  democracy  begins  with  the  Cleisthenian  reforms   of   508/07   in   Athens,   Keane   neglects   to   mention   that   this   contention   had   already   been   rejected   by   Meier   and   Raaflaub,   as   well   as   by   British   classicists   like   P.   J.     Rhodes.   Unlike   Keane,   however,   these   scholars   date   the   self-­‐conscious   emergence  of  democratic  politics  to  later  in  the  fifth  century  BC  –  to  around  the   460s  –  during  the  period  of  Ephialtes’  reforms  and  the  abolition  of  the  Areopagus   Council.   Keane   ought   to   have   attended   to   their   reasons   for   revising   the   older   consensus  since  it  bears  on  the  fundamental  conception  of  his  project.                It   is   one   thing   to   assert   that   the   demos   had   a   role   in   Athenian   politics,   and   even   that   they   enjoyed   a   system   of   equal   laws   bequeathed   by   the   Cleisthenian   constitution,  but  it  is  quite  another  to  argue  that  the  people  enjoyed  equality  of   rule.  Scholarship  is  divided  between  whether  this  latter  conception  is  implicit  in   the  Cleisthenian  reforms  of  508/07,  or  whether  it  emerges  for  the  first  time  half   a  century  later,  but  it  is  certain  that  the  existence  of  the  Greek  word  ‘demos’  –  or,   for   that   matter,   the   earlier   Mycenaean   term   ‘damos’   –  proves   nothing.   ‘The   people’   have   always   in   some   sense   existed   in   politics;   the   important   thing   is   to   establish   what   role   they   play   in   affairs,   and   how   they   understand   that   role   themselves.                Just  as  he  thinks  that  wherever  he  can  detect  a  demos,  there  too  he  will  find  a   democracy,   so   Keane   also   seems   to   assume   that   wherever   there   have   existed   popular  assemblies,  there  also  were  to  be  found  democratic  governments.  Keane   is  of  course  right  to  point  to  evidence  of  assemblies  across  the  ages.  The  question   is   whether   they   supported   a   democratic   constitution.   The   Spartans,   obviously,   had  an  assembly,  but  they  never  referred  to  themselves  as  a  democracy.  It  is  an   interesting  fact  that  subsequent  eighteenth-­‐century  commentators  often  took  the     2   Spartan   regime   to   epitomise   democracy;   but   it   is   also   crucial   to   recognise   that   neither  the  Spartans  nor  Athenians  thought  that  way.                Reference   to   assemblies   can   be   found   in   the   oldest   documents   of   Greek   culture   –   conspicuously   in   the   Iliad,   for   example   –   but   the   Greeks   were   clear   that   this  did  not  amount  to  democracy.  The  Estates  General  assembled  in  sixteenth-­‐ century   France,   but   nobody   mistook   the   French   monarchy   for   a   democracy.   Bishops  regularly  assemble  in  the  Vatican,  but  a  conclave  should  not  be  confused   with   a   republic.   Even   the   existence   of   popular   assemblies   proves   very   little   –   unless  Corinth,  Rome  and  Carthage  were  democracies.                It   seems   that   almost   anything   can   count   as   evidence   for   the   existence   of   a   democracy   according   to   the   criteria   employed   by   Keane.   My   favourite   is   his   reference   to   the   doctrine   of   cosmic   spiritual   benevolence   in   the   Koran   as   evidence   of   ‘egalitarian   or   democratic   sentiments   in   all   but   name’.   The   textual   evidence  produced  in  support  of  this  proposition  consists  of  nothing  more  than   the   scriptural   pronouncement   that   ‘there   is   not   an   animal   [that   lives]   on   the   earth,   nor   a   being   that   flies   on   its   wings,   but   [forms   part   of]   communities   like   you’.   There   are   doubtless   many   ways   of   depicting   this   noble   sentiment,   but   it   seems  perverse  to  conclude  that  it  exemplifies  specifically  ‘democratic’  feeling.                Keane’s  determination  to  challenge  and  expose  the  smug  self-­‐congratulation   that   pervades   formulaic   invocations   of   Western   democracy,   together   with   the   historical  sensibility  that  underpins  them,  is  to  be  applauded;  but  his  cause  is  not   served  by  more  or  less  inventing  an  alternative  history,  bereft  of  any  analytical   coherence.                Keane’s   book   is   divided   into   three   main   parts.   In   the   first   he   focuses   on   what   he   terms   ‘assembly   democracy’,   raising   issues   that   this   review   has   already   explored.   He   then   proceeds   to   examine   ‘representative   democracy’,   before   concluding  with  an  account  of  ‘monitory  democracy’.  This  last  phrase  is  intended   to  pick  out  assorted  opportunities  for  monitoring  the  exercise  of  power  available   to   the   citizens   of   modern   democracies.   Keane’s   optimism   here   contrasts   with   his   more  disabused  assessment  of  the  shortcomings  that  have  beset  representative   democracies  in  the  past.                The   Life   and   Death   of   Democracy   traces   the   career   of   representative   democracy  by  charting  the  history  of  the  United  States,  Central  America  and  then   Europe,  in  each  case  treating  democracy  as  a  kind  of  promise  that  was  betrayed   by   the   forces   of   elitism,   imperialism   and   nationalism.   The   elitism   of   American   politics  is  alleged  to  have  been  present  from  the  start  –  populism  was  shunned   by  Federalists  throughout  the  1780s  –  and  imperialism  soon  tempted  erstwhile   democrats  from  the  path  of  freedom.  In  Europe,  on  the  other  hand,  the  doctrine   of   national   self-­‐determination   is   taken   to   have   hijacked   and   perverted   popular   sovereignty,   converting   the   idea   of   the   people’s   will   into   a   principle   of   political   exclusion.                Of  course,  we  are  all  opposed  to  elitism  and  national  prejudice.  The  question   is  whether  democracy  can  be  immunised  against  them.  There  is  a  large  literature   from   the   late   nineteenth   century   –   Mosei   Ostrogorski,   Robert   Michels   and   Max   Weber   all   contributed   to   it   –   devoted   to   the   question   of   whether   the   political   division   of   labour   integral   to   representative   systems   of   government   must   inevitably  corrupt  the  democratic  ideal.  The  problem  is  not  that  Keane  does  not   think  to  mention  it,  but  that  he  wishes  this  kind  of  reflection  into  oblivion.  This     3   brings   his   project   very   close   to   utopian   moralism,   spurred   on   by   the   very   complacency  he  makes  it  his  business  to  abhor.                His  treatment  of  self-­‐determination  is  no  more  encouraging.  It  is  a  profound   problem  that  democratic  sovereignty  entails  a  commitment  to  representing  the   will   of   a   circumscribed   population,   potentially   pitting   one   people   against   another.  As  the  great  Austro-­‐American  analyst  of  democratic  government,  Joseph   Schumpeter,  remarked  during  the  Second  World  War,  democracies  have  always   been   exclusive   in   conception,   respecting   the   equality   of   a   fraternity   of   equals   distinct  from  those  who  are  deemed  not  to  belong.  This  problem  is  not  solved  by   re-­‐describing  it  as  ‘nationalism’,  and  preferring  that  it  would  simply  go  away.        Keane   has   a   lengthy   chapter   on   the   extraordinary   democratic   experiment   represented  by  the  trajectory  of  India  since  1947.  He  rounds  it  off  with  musings   on  the  decline  of  Nehruvian  politics  and  the  resurgence  of  popular  bigotry  on  the   sub-­‐continent.   Here   he   might   have   explored   the   perpetual   danger   posed   to   democratic  procedures  by  exposure  to  the  kinds  of  popular  prejudice  that  form   the   basic   ingredients   of   democratic   states.   Instead   we   get   a   sermon   on   openness   and  toleration  which  refuses  to  consider  why  these  moral  qualities  fail.                The  Life  and  Death  of  Democracy  is  a  brash,  ideologically  charged  meditation   on   the   vicissitudes   of   popular   governments,   past   and   present.   It   ignores   its   main   precursor   of   recent   years,   John   Dunn’s   concise   and   probing   Setting   the   People   Free  (2005),  and  acclaims  its  own  status  as  the  first  serious  attempt  to  tackle  the   subject   since   1874.   It   is   certainly   a   spirited   effort   to   combine   political   commentary  with  global  historical  narrative.  But  while  it  has  scope,  and  thrives   on   its   own   over-­‐weaning   ambition,   it   basically   relies   on   moralising   pronouncements  rather  than  cumulative  scholarly  demonstration,  and  in  the  end   it   channels   its   ethical   exuberance   into   a   defence   of   quaintly   anodyne   virtues   that   humans  find  easier  to  celebrate  than  to  practice  under  duress.  Keane  leaves  us  in   no   doubt   about   his   dedication   to   such   values   as   plurality   and   diversity.   But   he   brandishes   them   without   exploring   the   genuinely   challenging   question   of   how   democracy  exposes  such  liberalism  to  peril.     Richard  Bourke   Department  of  History   Queen  Mary,  University  of  London.     4