Inside the Mindset of Liberalism’s Broad Church

By Gillian Schutte

I have grappled with liberalism for years, peeling back its layers in an attempt to understand why an ideology that claims rationality, freedom, and progress so often feels like a bulwark against genuine emancipation. My recent psychoanalytic explorations focus on the ways liberalism, despite appearances, can behave as rigidly as right-wing conservatism. Conservatism in the United States and South Africa might call this liberal mindset “leftist”, yet it operates with a conservatism equally invested in maintaining hierarchies. The goal is not to portray liberalism as a unified tradition with a single historical root, but rather to highlight how it psychologically rationalises inequality, marginalises dissent, and frames acceptable discourse, no matter which local version we encounter.

In response to this approach employed in my article, The Fragility of Liberalism, Dawie Coetzee raises critical points about the term “liberalism” itself, noting that the word has taken on so many shades, contexts, and legacies that it risks losing clarity. His critique emerged during a Facebook debate following the sharing of my piece, adding a layer of immediacy to the discussion. He encourages a careful demonstration that classical and American liberalisms, for all their stylistic differences, still converge on certain core principles that protect entrenched interests. This nudge toward explicit demonstration aligns well with what the psychoanalytic perspective tries to reveal. Instead of simply declaring all liberal variants interchangeable, I want to show how their local differences often mask an underlying commitment to preserving structural inequalities.

Further, my choice of the title The Fragility of Liberalism was deliberate. Liberalism is fragile because it relies on moral veneers and intellectual justifications that crumble when seriously challenged, whereas capitalism remains robust, firmly grounded in material power and economic coercion that persist despite ideological shifts. By calling liberalism fragile I make a psychological and material distinction between capitalism and liberalism.

Classical liberalism typically champions unfettered markets and individual property rights. American liberalism, on the other hand, may endorse modest welfare policies and self-described “progressive” reforms. Yet both are notably reluctant to challenge the deeper economic and social frameworks that sustain capitalist accumulation. Their disagreements amount more to differences in emphasis and rhetorical style rather than any serious divergence on whether to dismantle the core architectures of power. The psychoanalytic lens helps explain why. Liberalism’s moral and intellectual veneers serve a purpose: they protect existing hierarchies, justify them as reasonable or inevitable, and cast radical alternatives as irrational. This shared function does not rely solely on historical lineage; it emerges from the way liberal discourses operate psychologically and culturally to normalise dominance.

Coetzee suggests that substituting “capitalism” for “liberalism” in critique might simplify matters. It might sharpen the focus on who benefits from the status quo. Yet this move overlooks how liberalism provides capitalism with a comforting cultural and moral grammar that capitalism alone, in its raw pursuit of profit, lacks. Capitalism represents the mechanics of accumulation and exploitation, but liberalism offers the soothing narratives, the universal rights talk, and incremental improvements that make those exploitative conditions seem tolerable, if not entirely fair. Without liberalism’s moral cover, capitalism would appear as it is—a system of wealth concentrated in the hands of the few. Liberalism’s role is to ensure the public imagines something more benign, to ensure that ruthless economics can masquerade as common sense or even progress.

This dual structure emerges clearly in South Africa, a context Veon Bock highlights. He points out that liberals and much of the white left nod to the injustices of apartheid’s legacy while refusing to dismantle the entrenched economic disparities and white privilege that persist today. They channel discontent into NGOs or manageable policy initiatives that never touch the root of the problem. Despite using a progressive-sounding language, these liberals secure old economic gains, act as gatekeepers against meaningful structural changes, and guard the privileges inherited from colonial and apartheid eras. Even parties that once seemed genuinely progressive often end up aligning with conservative-liberal frameworks, prioritising stability and market logic over any substantial redistribution of land, wealth, or opportunities. Here, “NGOised & Gatekeeping” liberalism emerges as a perfect example of local adaptation—less an emancipatory force, more an ideological mechanism that directs frustration into safe channels, ensuring those who hold power stay comfortable.

Moemedi Kepadisa’s observation that liberalism “infantilises those who uphold it as an ideological creed” speaks directly to the South African context. In a landscape where liberal rhetoric promises progress, those who cling to it often become trapped in a state of arrested political development. Unable to engage with the depth of structural injustice, they rely on shallow platitudes. Their innocence is feigned rather than genuine, ensuring that hard questions of redistribution remain off-limits. By treating both the oppressor and oppressed as equally responsible, liberalism conveniently sidesteps the need for transformative action.

These dynamics resonate with Martin Luther King Jr.’s caution about the “white moderate” who prefers order to justice. Ed Greeff invokes King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” to draw parallels with how liberalism, in many forms, prioritises calm and propriety over equality. Liberalism often appears measured and sensible while painting disruptive calls for systemic change as extreme. It frames any challenge to fundamental inequalities as unreasonable or misguided. This performance of rationality helps liberalism maintain its image as neutral and enlightened, all the while placing radical critique outside the realm of the acceptable.

Coetzee’s concerns about whether liberalism is still a useful term given its historical baggage and shifting meanings are valid. He states that much like “the West,” “liberalism” has become elastic enough to suit various narratives. Acknowledging this complexity does not weaken the critique; it shows why it’s needed. Liberalism’s supporters can pick and choose elements that sound open-minded and just, then apply them selectively to camouflage ongoing injustices. Their flexibility is not a strength but a key to preserving hierarchy. This broad church of liberalism encompasses classical, American, European, and Southern strains, each adjusting its rhetoric to appear rational and fair while leaving economic and social power structures unchallenged.

The psychoanalytic perspective aims to highlight what liberalism’s many faces share, not to deny local differences or historical nuances. Different liberalisms may wear different masks—some champion freedom from state interference, others promise social safety nets—but their underlying stance tends to protect property relations and preserve inequalities. They position themselves as arbiters of reason, labelling radical, redistributive ideas as impractical or dangerous. The end result is that whatever form liberalism takes, it seldom initiates the structural shifts that would undermine capital’s primacy or global hierarchies.

This is not about suggesting that all liberalisms are perfectly identical, but recognising that they usually gravitate towards defending capital and legitimating power. Many local versions reflect this dynamic. To go back to Bock’s South African example, it illustrates how liberal discourse can shape the public arena to accommodate anti-apartheid sentiment at a surface level while stalling any serious confrontation with ongoing racial and economic exploitation. American liberalism may pat itself on the back for expanding social welfare slightly, but it will rarely suggest tackling the roots of corporate dominance or imperial patterns of wealth extraction.

Coetzee’s push to show, rather than assume, that liberal variants share fundamental commitments inadvertently strengthens the discussion. The value of the psychoanalytic angle lies in its focus on what liberalism does right now, how it rationalises current inequalities, and how it sets the boundaries for what can be imagined politically. Rather than getting lost in historical genealogies, this approach emphasises that liberalism—whatever its lineage—functions as a cultural and intellectual gatekeeper, reinforcing oppressive arrangements and policing the perimeter against genuinely radical solutions.

To reiterate, the confusion between liberalism and the left, especially in the United States, only adds to the complexity. American conservatives routinely call even mild reforms “leftist,” which muddles the discourse. True left politics seeks to unpick market relations and dismantle privileges, something that most liberal frameworks fail—or refuse—to do. If the left appears suffocated under the broad liberal umbrella, it is a testament to liberalism’s success in co-opting or marginalising agendas that would otherwise threaten the prevailing order.

Capitalism might be the raw driver of exploitation, but liberalism is its indispensable ally, lending moral cover, intellectual frameworks, and psychological assurances that keep truly revolutionary ideas at bay. Acknowledging that both classical and American liberalisms converge in upholding these arrangements clarifies the larger picture. The term “liberalism” may be complicated, but the phenomenon it denotes—this broad, chameleon-like church that legitimises hierarchy and moderates radical impulses—is unmistakable.

* Gillian Schutte is a film-maker, and a well-known social justice and race-justice activist and public intellectual.

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.