| 9 mins read
Matt Sleat's Post-Liberalism is an accessible and well-argued appraisal of this emergent political philosophy: a philosophy oriented around a rejection of liberalism as ‘the maximisation of individual freedom’, and advocating a large, interventionist state that acts for the ‘common good’, informed by interpretations of Christian (largely Catholic) thinking and a critique of free-market capitalism.
Focussing on a group of American conservatives located within a ‘New Right’, Sleat bookends studies of the post-liberal theorists Patrick Deneen and Adrian Vermeule with broader thoughts on freedom and the future of liberalism, as well as references to other post-liberal thinkers and movements, including in the UK.
Sleat, Professor of Political Theory at the University of Sheffield, carefully delineates differences in theological underpinning for the post-liberal thinkers he considers, and throughout the book provides important context for their political arguments. In deconstructing the varieties of post-liberalism, including those offered by Deneen and Vermeule, Sleat's account is often a critical one: from what he sees as the mischaracterisation of liberalism by post-liberals (ignoring entirely more ‘social’ liberalisms), to the evasion of these thinkers when detailing what should—ultimately—replace liberalism in the post-liberal imaginary.
On mischaracterising liberalism, Sleat convincingly argues that by ‘homogenising’ liberalism, post-liberal thinkers construct a simple—if false—political enemy, avoiding the far more difficult engagement with a multifaceted political tradition. A hyperbolic denunciation of liberalism produces (within the world of post-liberalism) an instinct to tell people what they should really think, and how they should behave.
To be free, in the minds of post-liberals, is to embrace the world-view of post-liberals. And yet, at least in Sleat's view, the post-liberal alternative—a politics of the common good—has been ‘hard to discern through the ambiguity and elusiveness’. In his take, some of post-liberalism is profoundly illiberal, some is muddled.
What to make of all of this in our current political moment? As the blurb of Post-Liberalism notes, US Vice President J. D. Vance has associated himself with the post-liberal right. In the UK context, Danny Kruger, the former Conservative MP who defected to Reform UK in September 2025, is an admirer of the American post-liberal movement and met with Vance during the latter's visit to the UK in the summer of 2025. Vance's friend, James Orr, a theologian at the University of Cambridge, is a critic of liberalism and Reform's head of policy, working with Kruger.
Post-liberalism, then, is a feature of politics on the right (I will come to the left, and the Blue Labour argument, below), but Sleat's analysis suggests that the political theory of post-liberalism is a part of the right, not its whole. Take the Trump administration, of which Vance is, obviously, a senior member. To what extent does it display post-liberal politics? On migration policy, it is very clearly illiberal. People have died as communities protest the balaclava-clad detention operations of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency (ICE). It is illiberal, but is this aspect post-liberal? Not in Sleat's analysis, where migration is only very briefly mentioned. The post-liberal theorists he is focussed upon are either not overly concerned by immigration, or potentially positive about it, he suggests.
On economics, President Trump's tariffs are central to his programme, and seen by some as an existential risk to the global, free-market economics that post-liberals are critical of. Yet consider the Trump administration's regular rebuttal to the many criticisms about its policies and practices. Regardless of how relevant to the topic the rebuttal actually is, the response is often that ‘stock markets are doing well’. Post-liberal? It is more that if the rules of global trade can be altered—via American power—to suit Trump's interpretation of the USA's interest, then they should be changed. That appears to be an ambition closer to other political movements within the American right.
Reform's Trumpian character, built upon Nigel Farage's relationship with President Trump, means a similar story can be told. Reform's migration policies are illiberal—for example, the party's policy rescinding leave to remain is dramatically illiberal, affecting people already in the UK who are legally settled. On economics, Reform has announced a reintroduction of the two-child limit for Universal Credit. They have also suggested using some of that money to fund tax cuts for pubs.
One can make an argument about supporting different industries or sectors of the economy, but pushing families with children into poverty is an immoral choice. This Reform policy was preceded by a plan to ‘make the United Kingdom the world's premier hub for cryptocurrency’. Post-Brexit and deregulatory, perhaps, but post-liberal? What is this ‘common good’ that Kruger and other thinkers interested in post-liberalism want to discuss? It appears to be social conservatism and the political economy of the right.
Some of the political thinkers and actors associated with Blue Labour also glower at liberalism, and do share some political concerns with Reform, opposing recent migration policies, and querying welfare. At times, their economic critique has been close to aspects of the post-liberal imaginary, reflecting upon institutions within the economy. But Blue Labour is for the most part a confused—and confusing—entity.
Sleat's book is, of course, focussed upon the political theory of post-liberalism, rather than how this thinking is affecting political practice. Yet the politics and political economies of the right, and the contradictions and confusions that can be observed, are instructive for understanding the status of the political philosophy, too. Both are animated by their complaints about different aspects of liberalism. But what is being built? And why? As Sleat rightly queries at points, how often do the actors piecing together these political projects ask themselves whether people really want them?
This leaves the political challenge for liberal thinkers who work within an ideology that has a specific and more positive understanding of liberalism, be that social democracy or moderate conservatism. Sleat's argument returns to the social or ‘new’ liberalism of the early twentieth century, discussing the conceptualisation of the social within liberal ideology—the rights and the responsibilities that come from different interpretations of society. Ambitious thinking, Sleat seems to conclude, is not present today: ‘liberals have shown little in the way of imagination or ambition’.
On this point, I think Sleat's conclusion, while understandable, is a little too gloomy. A ‘common good’ has not been entirely absent from liberal thinking, certainly of the social-democratic or centre-left kind in recent years. The American philosopher Elizabeth Anderson's work is one example. Avowed liberal frameworks encompassing the political and the social can be underwhelming, but they are not always so.
What has undoubtedly been a challenge, certainly in the UK, is the perceived viability of enhanced redistribution amid changed material circumstances, post the global financial crisis—circumstances worsened by the political trends of British Conservatism and the legacies of neoliberalism. Post-liberalism, up to now, has largely found a home on the political right. If its existence is to provoke renewed (and ambitious) thinking among liberal ideologues, particularly those on the centre-left seeking to oppose the politics of the right, perhaps that should begin by recognising the continued relevance of left and right in political life.
Post-Liberalism, by Matt Sleat. Polity. 240 pp. £15.99
Need help using Wiley? Click here for help using Wiley