Liberalism’s Crisis: Why Its Own Success Fuels Today’s Deepest Critiques

Liberalism is no longer under attack only from the political extremes. Its most serious critics now come from within its own intellectual house. Before turning to those critiques, it is worth recalling what liberalism actually is: a political and moral framework built on the primacy of individual rights, the rule of law, constitutional limits on power, and the belief that free people—protected in their conscience, speech, property, and personal choices—can coexist peacefully despite deep differences. At its core, liberalism seeks to create a society where individuals are free to pursue their own conception of the good life, so long as they respect the equal freedom of others.

Yet it is precisely this vision of the liberal individual that today’s critics challenge. The unsettling argument they raise is this: liberalism may be failing not because it fell short, but because it succeeded too completely.

Few have made that case more forcefully than Patrick Deneen. His critique challenges the assumptions that have shaped modern democratic capitalism for generations. Yet it stands in sharp contrast to defenders of liberalism such as John Rawls and Friedrich Hayek, who—despite profound differences—saw liberalism as humanity’s best framework for sustaining freedom, prosperity, and social order.

Deneen’s central claim is as provocative as it is unsettling precisely because it cuts against liberalism’s self-image. Liberalism, he argues, did exactly what it promised: it liberated individuals from inherited authority, tradition, and social obligation. But in doing so, it also weakened the institutions that once gave people a sense of identity, moral formation, and belonging. Family, religion, civic life, and local community—once the connective tissue of society—have steadily eroded under the pressure of radical individual autonomy.

The result is not liberation, Deneen argues, but fragmentation: a society that is wealthier and freer than ever, yet increasingly isolated, distrustful, and spiritually unmoored.

For Rawls, this diagnosis fundamentally misses liberalism’s achievement. Liberalism, in his view, is not a solvent dissolving social bonds, but a framework that allows deeply different people to coexist peacefully. Free citizens will inevitably hold conflicting moral and religious beliefs. The task of liberal democracy is not to eliminate those differences, but to create fair rules under which they can coexist. Where Deneen sees disintegration, Rawls sees pluralism governed by justice.

Hayek offers a different defense altogether. His concern is less moral than practical. Complex societies, he argued, cannot be centrally directed because no government possesses enough knowledge to manage them effectively. Markets, traditions, and institutions evolve organically through millions of decentralized decisions. Liberalism works not because it perfects society, but because it allows imperfect societies to adapt and evolve without coercion.

If Deneen fears liberalism destroys tradition, Hayek would argue that liberalism is precisely what allows traditions to survive voluntarily rather than through force.

Beneath this debate lies a deeper question: what kind of creature is the human being?

Deneen rejects the liberal image of the autonomous individual as fundamentally false. Human beings are not self-created actors floating free from history and obligation. They are shaped by families, communities, faith, and inherited norms. A society that treats autonomy as the highest good, he argues, eventually produces not fulfillment, but alienation.

Rawls’ philosophy asks what principles rational individuals would choose under fair conditions, abstracting from the particular identities and circumstances that divide them. Critics argue this abstraction strips away too much of what makes people human. Rawls would counter that without such neutrality, justice becomes impossible in a pluralistic society.

Hayek approaches individuality differently still. Individuals matter not because they are morally sovereign, but because each person possesses knowledge no centralized authority can fully understand. Freedom, therefore, is less a moral aspiration than a practical necessity for coordinating society.

Deneen’s critique becomes even sharper when applied to political economy. Liberal societies often claim to champion limited government and individual independence. Yet as local institutions weaken, individuals become increasingly dependent on large centralized systems—both governmental and corporate. The paradox of modern liberalism is that a culture obsessed with personal freedom can produce societies dominated by impersonal bureaucracies, concentrated capital, and administrative power.

Here, Rawls and Hayek sharply diverge. Rawls accepts a significant role for the state in mitigating inequality and preserving fair opportunity. Markets matter, but they must serve justice. Hayek, by contrast, warns that attempts to engineer fairness often undermine the spontaneous systems that generate prosperity in the first place.

At the center of the debate is liberalism’s claim to neutrality. Deneen dismisses neutrality as an illusion. Liberalism does not merely referee competing visions of the good life, he argues—it promotes one of its own: autonomy, mobility, consumption, and perpetual choice. In the process, alternative values such as duty, stability, and rootedness are pushed to the margins.

Rawls would insist liberalism’s neutrality is political, not moral. The state does not deny deeper moral truths; it simply refuses to impose one comprehensive vision on everyone else. Yet in practice, the distinction often feels less convincing than it does in theory.

So where does this leave liberalism today?

Deneen sees a system unraveling under the weight of its own contradictions. Rising alienation, institutional distrust, polarization, and social fragmentation are not temporary malfunctions—they are the logical outcome of liberalism’s success.

Rawls and Hayek would be more optimistic, though for different reasons. Both believed liberalism retains the capacity for self-correction. The current crisis reflects not the failure of liberalism itself, but failures in how liberal societies have practiced it.

The debate ultimately turns on a deeper question: can a society organized around individual freedom sustain the communal bonds it depends on? Deneen is skeptical.

What is clear is that liberalism can no longer take its legitimacy for granted. Its defenders must do more than restate its principles; they must demonstrate its capacity to address the very concerns its critics raise. And its critics, for their part, must grapple with the risks of abandoning a framework that, for all its imperfections, has delivered unprecedented levels of freedom and prosperity.

The future of liberalism will not be decided in abstract theory alone, but in its ability to reconcile freedom with belonging, autonomy with meaning, and progress with continuity. That is the challenge—and the opportunity—of our time.

Seth David Radwell is the author of “American Schism: How the Two Enlightenments Hold the Secret to Healing our Nation” winner of last year’s International Book Award for Best General Nonfiction. He is a frequent contributor as a political analyst, and speaker within both the business community and on college campuses both in the U.S. and abroad.