Digressions&Impressions

On Governmental Honors for Academics

I’ve largely avoided the academic open letter trend (& not gonna make a habit of this!) so a thread to explain why I signed… Substantial intellectual disputes should be settled by means of argumentation. So, e.g., with the open letter calling for the Case for Colonialism piece to be retracted, I encouraged people *not* to sign and wrote a critique of the substance… [T]he case of Stock and the OBE is not that.

This is purely a matter of what in my field receives public honours and lauding. That is to say, it is a matter of sending out a signal on what we value, what we consider especially noteworthy and positive contributions…

[G]iven what’s morally and politically at stake here, it’s worth sending out a strong counter-signal to the suggestion that Dr. Stock’s recent concerted public campaign is an exceptional philosophical contribution to higher education. If you agree, please sign!

Stock’s career and public philosophising will go on quite unperturbed by this letter. In fact, she’s thriving. Besides the OBE, keynoting the Aristotelian Society, getting a book deal, and regular media appearances, 2020 seems to have been her most cited year. So it goes…. I say that to reassure: if you’re inclined to worry about Stock being silenced you needn’t.

Open letters don’t persuade, no one who didn’t already agree will be swayed. The value of the exercise is making clear to onlookers, especially trans people considering philosophy, that many of us don’t in fact agree that what she has contributed through our field and its public role in UK life should be lauded with the highest civilian honour. Again, if you think that’s something which trans people looking at philosophy might like to know, please sign.--Liam Kofi Bright quoted at Dailynous. [The original twitter thread is here.]

My original, instinctive response to the predictable controversy over Dr. Stock's OBE was to use it as evidence for the impropriety of liberal-democratic governments to offer/convey honors at all. For, first, it is, in fact, quite natural to see them as a atavistic left-over from the hierarchy-celebrating, feudal and imperial eras. An OBE is literally an order of the British Empire award. And, second, the pattern of such honors violates all kinds of neutrality or impartiality requirements that we have come reasonably expect from liberal democracies. Third, such honors can easily become a cover for cronyism or rents and the pay-off for political services rendered (see President Trump's pattern of Medal of Freedom Medals.) 

To be sure, the conferring of honors or recognition is compatible with egalitarian versions of liberalism. But I think the more natural, liberal position is to leave such honorifics to civil society and the variety of voluntary associations (and keep the state out of this business). So, I have no problem with universities conferring academic distinctions, awards/honorifics (although as regular readers know, I think these generate complex issues [recall this post on the letter against Derrida; this post on its relationship to no-platforming; this post on the Kalven report; and many more under the influence of Jacob Levy's essay).

Interestingly, neither the open letter/petition, which I like for the comments/distinctions it makes about the character of academic freedom, nor Bright's argument quoted at Dailynous (and above) make any mention of the tension between honorifics and democratic life. I return to this below.

One reason why it is worth looking at Bright's argument is that despite his entertaining twitter persona, he is, in fact one of the world's experts on the nature and complexities of the credit economy of science/intellectual communities. And it is quite clear that he conceives of the letter as a kind of counter-signal toward those outside the profession ("onlookers," which may call 'public opinion') and, in particular, those that might become insiders one day ("considering philosophy, ") in particular "trans people." So, we can see his position as a signal about how he and his fellow-signers wish to see the future of professional philosophy.

Here professional philosophy is conceived, in part, as a relatively autonomous professional discipline. It is not treated as wholly autonomous because part of the underlying issue being debated is about how universities (which employ many professional philosophers) should associate with Stonewall a prominent LGBTQ+ rights charity and its trans-inclusive stance in particular. 

This can't be the whole story. Such an open letter is, of course, also, and perhaps, primarily, a signal to fellow insiders within the profession. As the open letter puts it, "We are professional academic philosophers committed to the inclusion and acceptance of trans and gender non-conforming people, both in the public at large, and within philosophy in particular. We write to affirm our commitment to developing a more inclusive environment, disavowing the use of professional and cultural authority to further gendered oppression." While one need not deny the earnestness of such a letter's aims to reform/improve the "public at large," and public opinion, its practical impact is mostly felt within the profession as an act of solidarity and the attempt to create inclusive norms/practices/institutions of conduct, and, as Bright emphasizes, a signal toward would be professionals who wish to join. I do not mean to suggest this exhausts it significance; it's also a mechanism to reveal support for certain norms.* But underlying Bright's argument and the one of the open letter is the idea that the professional community is also in certain respects a moral ("inclusive") community. It is no surprise, given the pluralist society we live in, that this generates debate and disagreement.

As it happens, and now I return to the opening themes of this post, as the controversy broke I was reading Michael Sonenscher's (2007) fascinating Before the Deluge: Public Debt, Inequality, and the Intellectual Origins of the French Revolution. And one of the sub-themes in this dense and complex work is that the French Legion of Honor, which was instituted by Napoleon in 1802, can, in fact, be traced to the French Revolution itself! And, in particular, that this honor system was really the brainchild of the vision of Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès, at the point where Sieyès helped shape some of the most egalitarian and democratic moments of the French revolution. In fact, Sonensher argues that the very idea for such a system of honors is lodged, or "first adumbrated" (78) in 1789, in What is the Third Estate?!

In Sonensher's presentation Sieyès argues, to simplify greatly, for a system of honors as a countervailing meritocratic, social hierarchy in an unequal society, where inequality of property and inequality of political power have a tendency to undermine political equality. And, interestingly, the meritocratic social hierarchy is supposed to shape and be shaped by civil service. In particular, it is also supposed to be a countervailing power to political centralization, and so ensure status and recognition (and influence) in the provinces. (It is not clear whether Sieyès would argue for a system of honors absent structural inequalities. But since he defends the right to inheritance, it is clear he does not expect equality in property/wealth.) 

Before I get to the upshot of this. Sonenscher's argument had me excited and I went back to Sieyès's seminal What is Third Estate. (which I read in an updated version of Blondel's 1963 translation).+ In one sense this was disappointing. Because I could not really find the argument I sketched in the previous paragraph (and derived from Sonenscher). What is abundantly clear is that indeed Sieyès does not call for the abolition of honors (which under feudalism generated all kind of privileges, including as Sieyès' notes different forms of public punishment).

But rather that Sieyès calls for a change in the character of honor.  In particular, he forcefully rejects the (aristocratic) idea that labor cannot be a source of honor (familiar from Greek philosophy), so he argued for widening of who may be considered for honors (nobility of birth should not be the source at all) and also the content of what should be honored. He thinks advocates for "principles of universal justice" definitely deserve public honor, once the system permits it. What this last point makes clear is that in addition to being a kind of countervailing power (in the spirit of Montesquieu as Sonenscher emphasizes), the function of public honor is as Sieyès argues "to serve the rights of citizenship." 

So, I think we now have the contours of a plausible argument why imperfect democracies may wish to promote public honors on individuals. And one can make a non-cynical, good faith argument that "services to higher education" may, in certain respects, at least indirectly, serve the rights of citizenship or principles of universal justice. (I am myself not tempted to do so.) This has to be judged on a case by honorific/honoree case basis.

Regular readers know I think scholarly activism is legitimate form of public philosophy (recall here; and here). I myself continue to think governments should not be in the business of dispensing honorifics. But given that such honorifics are compatible with a realistic interpretation of democratic life, I suspect my first two paragraphs above, even if properly spelled out and defended will convince few.

But I also think there is another (second-best) echt liberal response in the vicinity here. Rather than viewing the granting of honorifics as settling a social question. We can see it as an imperfect way of inviting debate over what society ought to honor in the name of universal justice and, more important, what the content of universal justice is.++ Even if one disagrees with Prof. Stock (as I do), her activism does speak to nature and rights of citizenship (and much more so than many other honorees). After all, in a liberal society the government's positions on a whole range of morally and ethically salient issues are contestable and (thankfully) contested. Disagreement over moral and political issues, including public recognition/honors, is the lifeblood of a free society, including philosophy. It is, in fact, a possible discovery mechanism of what we value all things considered, if there is a 'we' left after the dust has cleared.

 

David Hume's unusual (Lockean) argument for free trade

Nothing is more usual, among states which have made some advances in commerce, than to look on the progress of their neighbours with a suspicious eye, to consider all trading states as their rivals, and to suppose that it is impossible for any of them to flourish, but at their expence. In opposition to this narrow and malignant opinion, I will venture to assert, that the encrease of riches and commerce in any one nation, instead of hurting, commonly promotes the riches and commerce of all its neighbours; and that a state can scarcely carry its trade and industry very far, where all the surrounding states are buried in ignorance, sloth, and barbarism.

It is obvious, that the domestic industry of a people cannot be hurt by the greatest prosperity of their neighbours; and as this branch of commerce is undoubtedly the most important in any extensive kingdom, we are so far removed from all reason of jealousy. But I go farther, and observe, that where an open communication is preserved among nations, it is impossible but the domestic industry of every one must receive an encrease from the improvements of the others. Compare the situation of Great Britain at present, with what it was two centuries ago. All the arts both of agriculture and manufactures were then extremely rude and imperfect. Every improvement, which we have since made, has arisen from our imitation of foreigners; and we ought so far to esteem it happy, that they had previously made advances in arts and ingenuity. But this intercourse is still upheld to our great advantage: Notwithstanding the advanced state of our manufactures, we daily adopt, in every art, the inventions and improvements of our neighbours.--David Hume "Of the Jealousy of Trade"

Of the Jealousy of Trade presents itself as a companion piece to "Of the Balance of Trade," and is easily overshadowed by it. That's a shame because Hume's particular argument is still timely, as I look at the news reporting on Brexit talks. Unlike the more familiar Smithian ('absolute advantage') and Ricardian ('comparative advantage') arguments,* Hume's here is focused on what we may call the epistemic effects (or positive externalities) of trade. I assume this is familiar in the literature, but I had not noticed it before.

For Hume trade exposes us to innovations of others and induces imitation, learning, and what he calls "emulation" from them. And the effect of this is enhanced technology and productivity ("we daily adopt, in every art, the inventions and improvements"). I don't want to overstate the originality of Hume's argument not just because I may be unfamiliar with relevant contemporary authors, but also because it is pretty clear that Hume is extending an important argument by Locke.

Recall that in Locke's art of government (in sections 41-42 of the chapter 5 of "Two Treatises") and in his (1695) "Further Considerations Concerning Raising the Value of Money," Locke advocates for policies that would grow the population and simultaneously grow their skill/productivity. This argument was noticed and emphasized by Toland in his argument for Jewish emancipation (recall). And, in fact, Hume' echoes one of Locke's key arguments. Hume writes, shortly after the passage quoted above, "But if our neighbours have no art or cultivation, they cannot take them; because they will have nothing to give in exchange. In this respect, states are in the same condition as individuals."

In section 43, of Chapter of the Two Treatises, Locke had made the same conceptual point in terms of the American Indian being unable to benefit from the same amount of labor in land as the European because he lacked wealthy neighbors. Locke's point here is often missed because scholars and critics are more focused on debates about his labor theory of value and to what degree these passages support colonialism. But it would be very surprising if Hume had not noticed the point. After all, this is treated as axiomatic by Hume in this essay ("it is obvious, that the domestic industry of a people cannot be hurt by the greatest prosperity of their neighbours;").

I do not mean to ignore the significance of pro-European free trade argument ("a British subject, I pray for the flourishing commerce of Germany, Spain, Italy, and even France itself") lodged at the end of  the little essay. But I have already discussed it in the context of Foucault's arguments of 24 January 1979, lecture 3, The Birth of Biopolitics. 54-6.

 

John Locke on Money, National Greatness and the Liberal Art of Liberal Government,

Silver is the instrument and measure of commerce in all the civilized and trading parts of the world.

It is the instrument of commerce by its intrinsic value.

The intrinsic value of silver, considered as money, is that estimate which common consent has placed on it, whereby it is made equivalent to all other things, and consequently is the universal barter, or exchange, which men give and receive for other things they would purchase or part with, for a valuable consideration; and thus, as the wise man tells us, money answers all things.--John Locke (1695) "Further Considerations Concerning Raising the Value of Money"

It is no doubt a bit odd to read that X is intrinsic of Y and that X is (a) an estimate of Y (b) and it (the estimate) is product of common consent. But it is less odd when we remind ourselves that X is not the intrinsic value of silver as such, but the intrinsic value of "silver, considered as money." And money here is a mechanism for the (possible) buying and selling of infinite diversity of (possible) goods.

In commenting on this passage, and Further Considerations more generally, Christine Desane writes, in her fascinating (2014) book Making Money: Coin, Currency, and the Coming of Capitalism, Locke's "argument put sovereigns in a place peripheral to international trade." (346) This matters to Desan's more general argument because Locke is the main source of what early in her book she describes as "the conventional creation story"* which she attributes to Marx and Menger alike (27-28).    

My interest here is not in the metaphysics of value,+ or the details of the implied mechanism, although both are important topics. Rather, I want to reflect a bit on Locke's underlying political vision. It is easy to imagine why Desan thinks that for Locke the origin of money is a convention  (350), and, with a nod to the Two Treatises, "an act of agreement prior even to the political consent that created society" (351; emphasis in Desan; for my analysis of the material in the Two Treatise see here). That is to say, on Desan's interpretation, "money's foundation" is "not political, not legal, but social." (353) By "locating agency over money in the consensus of strangers or people without politics, Locke offered the image of a medium that needed no collective engineering. (353) Since this fits with a certain kind of libertarian interpretation of Locke, one may well assume that Desan gets Locke right even though the argument of her book is that money is the product of collective engineering.

Now, before I criticize this account of Locke, it is important to note that Desan recognizes that Locke's account of the origin of money is not identical to his account of the maintenance of money. In particular, on her treatment of Locke, the sovereign does have one "certifying" (346) role in facilitating the use of money in commerce: "the ascertaining of its quantity by a public mark, the better to fit it for commerce," (quoted on p. 346 of Desan). As Locke puts it, the mark is a kind of "a public voucher, that a piece of such denomination is of such a weight, and of such a fineness, i. e. has so much silver in it." That is to say, for Locke the sovereign's role is to provide a collective good, by guarding over the quality of money and providing a public signal of it. 

As an aside, we see here Locke recognizing that the state (bureaucracy/institutions) needs itself to possess high quality skills. And the state's role is to secure common measures (by "public authority warranted") and accurate information about them. 

More important, one of the explicit goals of the state is to promote commerce. So, it is a bit odd to treat Locke as depoliticizing money when he articulates his account of money in terms of quite specific political aims (namely the promotion of commerce).  But so far, I have said nothing that Desan might disagree with.

More subtly, Desan treats money (and she is here echoing in part Locke's opponent Lowndes) as an "emphatically domestic"  affair. (348) It would, thus, be tempting to see in Locke's politics a cosmopolitan project because (and now again quoting Desan about Locke) "exchange was an international matter, and he evidently assumed that money was as well," (349).

And, indeed, in one sense Locke's ideal is cosmopolitan: "perhaps it would have been better for commerce in general, and more convenient for all their subjects, if the princes every-where, or at least in this part of the world, would at first have agreed on the fineness of the standard to have been just one-twelfth alloy, in round numbers; without those minuter fractions which are to be found in the alloy of most of the coin of the several distinct dominions of this part of the world." (partially quoted on p. 346 and p. 348 by Desan) It is not silly to see in Locke as the hypothetical forefather of the Euro (or, at least, the EMU/EMS). But notice that here Locke ascribes to princes/sovereigns political agency. And this is Locke's (counterfactual) ideal. 

Of course, in practice this did not happen. But it alerts us that Locke's argument may be more political than Desan (and certain libertarians) let on.** And, in fact, Locke's argument about the role of money in commerce is itself intrinsically political: 

Money also is necessary to us, in a certain proportion to the plenty of it amongst our neighbours. For, if any of our neighbours have it in a much greater abundance than we, we are many ways obnoxious to them. 1. They can maintain a greater force. 2. They can tempt away our people, by greater wages, to serve them, by land, or sea, or in any labour. 3. They can command the markets, and thereby break our trade, and make us poor. 4. They can on any occasion ingross naval and warlike stores, and thereby endanger us.

In countries where domestic mines do not supply it, nothing can bring in silver but tribute, or trade. Tribute is the effect of conquest: trade, of skill and industry.

By commerce silver is brought in, only by an overbalance of trade.

An overbalance of trade, is when the quantity of commodities, which we send to any country do more than pay for those we bring from thence: for then the overplus is brought home in bullion.

For, Locke's argument is that a strong currency is connected to a high wage ("greater wages"), productive labor force ("skill and industry"), export driven ("overbalance of trade") political economy, which allows for a growing population and, thereby,  a greater military (and more powerful economy).++ What's really new here -- judging by Desan's larger narrative -- is not the strong currency part. (It seems the UK elites were all in on a strong currency for close to half a millenium prior to Locke.) But rather that in virtue of a strong currency one can pay high wages and support a growing population. 

This not ad hoc in Locke. It echoes Locke's more instrumental defense of property rights as conducive to consumption and rising standards of living. In particular, it fits quite nicely with the details of Locke's 'Art of government' (recall my treatment of sections 41-42 of Second Treatise, chapter 5): (i) open borders that facilitate immigration, abundance in food, fertility/family friendly policies. (ii) And we can take him to be committed to policies that improve the skill-set of the workforce that is the stimulation of public or private provision of education. In arguing for Jewish emancipation (and immigration), Toland (recall) explicitly picks up on Locke's argument, but rather than focusing on high wages he focuses on falling prices for mass produced goods. 

So, let me wrap up. I have not here evaluated Locke's economics. And I also grant that it's possible that Locke was a bourgeois ideologue supporting mercantile Whig elites at the expense of everybody else (Desan relies heavily on Macpherson) with any argument available. But it strikes me that the more natural and consistent reading is that Locke thought that state policy should enrich the population. If done right (by focusing on a hard currency, educating for the right skills, and yes defending property rights) this would lock Britain into a virtuous cycle of growing trade, growing wages, growing populations, and growing political might. This is not a cosmopolitan argument in favor of trade (of the sort Kant or Smith might try out); rather it is a second-best argument for national greatness because the international sphere is characterized by power politics. Since Locke's approach puts Britain on the path of zero-sum, great power politics, it is an open question whether this can be called 'liberal' (cf.  411 in Desan; but that's for another occasion).

 

On Manegold, Elected Kings, Social Contracts, and the Right to Rebel

Just as the royal dignity and power surpasses all earthly powers, so too the man appointed to exercise it should not be base and infamous but should excel others in wisdom, justice and piety as he does in place and dignity. It is necessary, therefore, that the one who is to have charge of all and govern all should display greater virtue than others and should be careful to exercise the power committed to him with a fine balance of equity; for the people do not exalt him above themselves so as to concede to him an unlimited power of tyrannizing over them, but rather to defend them against the tyranny and wickedness of others. However, when he who is chosen to repress evil-doers and defend the just begins to cherish evil in himself, to oppress good men to exercise over his subjects the cruel tyranny that he ought to ward off from them, is it not clear that he deservedly falls from the dignity conceded to him and that the people are free from his lordship and from subjection to him since it is evident that he first broke the compact by virtue of which he was appointed? Nor can anyone justly or reasonably accuse the people of perfidy when it is evident that he first broke faith with them. To take an example from a meaner sphere, if a man hired someone for a fair wage to look after his swine and then found that he was not caring for them but stealing, killing and destroying them, would not the man withhold the promised wage from him and remove him ignominiously from his task of caring for the swine? Now, if this is observed in base things, that a man who does not care for his swine but destroys them shall not be kept as a swineherd, are there not just and reasonable grounds for maintaining that, in proportion as humans differ from swine, so too it is more fitting that anyone who does not strive to rule his subjects but rather to lead them into error should be deprived of the power and authority over men that he has received? Why should we be surprised if this rule is observed under the Christian religion when the ancient Romans in the days of the illustrious Collatinus and Brutus, refusing to endure the pride of Tarquin because of the shameful deed which his son, not he himself, had perpetrated against the noble matron Lucretia, expelled him and his son from the country and from the kingship, and created a government by two consuls holding office for a year to prevent anyone growing haughty through long exercise of authority. ...

The nature of man excels that of all other living creatures in this, that, being capable of treating by reason whatever has not fallen out by fortuitous hazard, it inquires into the causes of things with rational judgement and considers not only what is done but why it is done. Since then no one can make himself an emperor or king, the people raise some man above themselves for these reasons, to rule and govern them by virtue of his just authority, to apportion to each his own, to protect the good, to repress the wicked and to deal out justice to all. If, however, he breaks the compact by which he was elected and ruins and confounds what he was established to order correctly, reason justly considers that he has absolved the people from their duty of submission to him since he himself first broke the bond of mutual fidelity by which he was bound to them and they to him.--Manegold (ca 1080-185) quoted from Brian Tierney (1988) The Crisis of Church and State, 1050-1300, pp. 78-80. *

Larry Siedentop partially quotes Manegold as one "of the earliest examples of a contractual model for understanding the proper relationship between rulers and ruled" in order to illustrate the idea that is "hardly accidental" social contract theory developed within a Christian context because in it the focus obligation is on individual conscience (249; recall my earlier posts on his Inventing the Individual: The Origins of Western Liberalism; here; here); and here). If one is, say, trying to combat, with a nod ahead to Suarez, the idea that Christianity and liberalism are naturally opposed (as Siedentop is) or, as one could readily imagine, one is trying to undermine the soft-Marxist thought that contractualism as a ruling framework fits or expresses bourgeois ideology (with the rise of property contracts, etc.), then this is attractive thought. And anybody familiar with Locke, and the role Locke played subsequently, will find much that is familiar in Manegold's argument.

Of course, contractualism predates Manegold and is not only to be found in Christianity (recall Glaucon in the Republic; Lucretius.) In fact, some of the most characteristic features of Manegold's argument echo (recall) the writings of Master Mo (also here; here; and here). In particular, both Manegold and Master Mo conceive of the social contract as legitimating elective kingship. In Manegold that is a feature and not a bug because, on behalf of the pope in the so-called investiture controversy, he is criticizing the holy roman emperor who is an elected king (of Germany, but elected by prince-electors).

Of course, when one starts to look more closely at Manegold's argument, one recognizes more distinctive features. First, Manegold explicitly points to (a famous example from) the rebellion that led to the founding of the Roman republic. (And, in fact, initially the two consuls could, not unlike the American Presidency, be understood as elected kings.) I don't know if Livy was circulating then (but here is the story). But either way, part of the significance of Manegold's argument is that Christianity is not itself a source of innovation; that the office of kingship is conditional on good performance in pagan and christian times. Part of the polemical target here is any claim that the king's sacred authority is directly derived from God (through heritable birth-line).

Initially, I wouldn't want to call Manegold's argument 'republican,' but he himself notes its provenance. And if that's right than the contractual features are really illustrative of a deeper insight that rulership is ground in the needs of the people qua people who 'raise' some above them for a functional purpose (the contract, then, illustrates this functional feature). I don't think this is the natural reading for us (post-Hobbesian/Lockean consent). But it would help explain the recurring theme of the people raising/exalting somebody above them. 

Of course, unlike many modern republican and contractualist theorists, Manegold thinks the character of the ruler is significant and that the people do not only require a ruler noted for 'wisdom, justice and piety,' but also one that has "greater virtue than others." The nature of this virtue is moral and political: a ruler's task is to defend the people against the tyranny and wickedness of others, "to apportion to each his own, to protect the good, to repress the wicked and to deal out justice to all."

Manegold does not say, in context, how widespread wickedness is, but clearly his approach requires that at least some people are virtuous and capable of being virtuous while being elevated into considerable power. While it would be misleading to say that Manegold is advocating for philosopher-kings, his rulers are clearly exceptional human types. And just as Locke notes that it would defeat the purpose of a ruler  if he makes "use of the power" not "for the good of those who are under it," so does Manegold.  but for his own private, separate advantage. 

One final point, that the ruler should be a good shepherd is, of course, a biblical trope. But the favored herd is generally not swine. In Plato's Statesman the ruler should be a good shepherd, but I don't recall mention of swine.  The most famous swineherd belongs Odysseus. but the connection with Manegold strikes me as a bit far-fetched. It would be interesting to know more about the valence of swine in Manegold's time. 

But once one thinks about it, it is notable that it's not the swine who pick their own shepherd. And it's not them who contract their shepherd; it's a third party. Rather, an unnamed party (the swineherd's true owners) contract the ruler. Since Manegold is writing on behalf of the pope, it seems natural to assume that his contract analogy is, in part, intended to note the fact that papal authority is one of the interested parties in good rule of the flock. This is, in fact, the natural reading of the material surrounding this passage in the letter (79), which is all about the Church's authority over the king and those that have sworn prior oaths to him. 

So, perhaps a better less liberal reading of Manegold's account of the social contract involves a relationship among ruler and people of mutual fidelity characterized by performance of a socially useful function--that's the republicanism. But the ruler's authority is contracted by or bestowed with the blessing/permission of papal authority. If the ruler fails to perform his socially useful function the people have a right to throw of his yoke, but not because they withhold consent. Rather, the Church removes its consent because the ruler forfeits the right to rule by not serving God's plan for him. It seems like a good time to remind ourselves of this doctrine.

 

 

Hayek (Streeck, Hazony) and World Federation and Colonialism

In the national state current ideologies make it comparatively easy to persuade the rest of the community that it is in their interest to protect “their” iron industry or “their” wheat production or whatever it be. An element of national pride in “their” industry and considerations of national strength in case of war generally induce people to consent to the sacrifice. The decisive consideration is that their sacrifice benefits compatriots whose position is familiar to them. Will the same motives operate in favor of other members of the Union? Is it likely that the French peasant will be willing to pay more for his fertilizer to help the British chemical industry? Will the Swedish workman be ready to pay more for his oranges to assist the Californian grower? Or the clerk in the city of London be ready to pay more for his shoes or his bicycle to help American or Belgian workmen? Or the South African miner prepared to pay more for his sardines to help the Norwegian fishermen?--Hayek (1939) "The Economic Conditions of Interstate Federalism."

Hayek's (1939) "The Economic Conditions of Interstate Federalism" plays two roles in recent critical discussions of  neo-liberalism. First, Wolfgang Streeck (recall) sees in it the neoliberal masterplan for the European Union by which a federal structures prevent the development of socialism and the welfare-state among member units (of the federation). Streeck's reading of Hayek is not wholly misleading.  Hayek does state that "it would be desirable for the constitution of the federation to impose on the freedom of the individual states would have to be even greater than we have hitherto assumed and that their power of independent action would have to be limited still further." And this is not limited "to state economic policy but also to economic policy conducted by trade and professional organizations extending over the territory of the state."

But even so the justification of this is not to prevent the welfare state or local experimentation, but "to prevent evasions of the fundamental provisions securing free movement of men, goods, and capital." Hayek's real targets are "trade-unions, cartels, or professional associations," and other would be local monopolists. That is to say, Hayek is no Lionel Robbins (his LSE colleague), who in his (1941) "Economic aspects of federation" proposal did leave more room for local "experimentation" even socialist experimentation (albeit with various restrictions). For Robbins "the [member] states are completely free to set up collectivist undertakings."* This is surely a bridge too far for Hayek. But the target of Hayek is, as he writes shortly below, not primarily redistribution, but interference "with economic activity" and "state control." (This is not to suggest that Hayek is a fan of redistribution, but see Zwolinski's recent essay.)

The second line of interpretation is due to (recall) Yoram Hazony, who in The Virtue of Nationalism, reads Hayek (1939) as endorsing (quoting Hazony) an "international federal state without significant boundaries between nations." (See also the accompanying notes in Hazony.)** If we look at the passage quoted at the top of this post we can see what inspired Hazony. Hayek is clearly thinking of a trans-Atlantic North American (e.g., "California")-European federation; Hayek calls it a federation of "Atlantic democratic states," but one that includes Europe's dominions/colonies (e.g., South Africa).  And, indeed, when after the war plans were developed for a European (economic) Community the African colonies were very much included. (Before it become independent in 1962 Algeria was part of the EEC.)

Hayek's stance is, in part, if not inspired by the phenomenal success of Clarence Streit's (1939) Union Now, at least clearly co-extensive with it. (Streit is explicitly mentioned in Hayek's piece.) While Hayek proposes a geographically extensive federation, it is not global in character. In Hayek, this is so because he wishes to exclude the "socialist" countries like the USSR. Or to be precise, he thinks the USSR would refuse to "submit" to the rules governing his proposed "interstate federation." So, while Hazony has accurately discerned the drift of Hayek's proposal, his federation is not necessarily global in character and there is no expectation it will naturally become such a global empire. So, unlike Mises -- who often writes as if the success conditions of liberalism presuppose the establishment of global liberalism --, Hayek thinks liberalism need not entail global federation.+

But that leaves another question. As Or Rosenboim recounts, and building on Orwell, Streits'proposal while centered on the virtues of liberal democracies, clearly also is meant to secure domination of a (racialized hierarchy of) 'civilized' peoples. How does Hayek see the relationship between the federation and European colonies. Recall that while Mises hoped to secure a liberal global order, Mises thought the sooner the European imperial powers de-colonized the better. Hayek recognizes that the question is lurking behind his own proposal. Here's what he writes.

It does not come within the scope of a short article to consider in any detail the positive tasks of the liberal economic policy which a federation would have to pursue. Nor is it even possible to give here further consideration to such important problems as those of monetary or colonial policy which will, of course, continue to exist in a federation. On the last point it may, however, be added that the question which probably would be raised first, i.e., whether colonies ought to be administered by the states or by the federation, would be of comparatively minor importance. With a real open-door policy for all members of the federation, the economic advantages derived from the possession of colonies, whether the colonies were administered federally or nationally, would be approximately the same to all the members of the federation. But, in general, it would undoubtedly be preferable that their administration should be a federal and not a state matter.

What is notable is that unlike Mises, who is explicit about the unmitigated evils of colonialism, Hayek leaves his views on the matter oblique here.++ It's pretty clear, however, that he is primarily focused on the way that colonies generate interstate rivalry (and so war, protection, etc.). An interstate federation is a solution to the problem of such state rivalry over colonialism. The benefits, if any, of holding a colony now accrue to all the members of a federation.

It's possible (perhaps this is lurking behind the "in general") Hayek also thinks that the federation would treat the inhabitants of the colonies more humanely than the member states. But if so, he does not say it. And his remarks are naturally read as endorsing continued colonial rule by the federation. It is striking that roughly in the same period, Mises comes out as looking much more committed to democracy and freedom than Hayek does. 

Let me close. In his paper, Hayek writes "that nineteenth-century liberalism did not succeed more fully is due largely to its failure to develop in this direction; and the cause is mainly that, because of historical accidents, it successively joined forces first with nationalism and later with socialism, both forces being equally incompatible with its main principle." In the accompanying footnote, Hayek treats John Stuart Mill as exemplary of both (regrettable) tendencies. 

We may say, without a sense of superiority, and a considerable note of melancholy and regret, that twentieth-century liberalism did not succeed more fully is in no small matter due to its continued temptation to treat the economic interests of (Northern) Atlantic states as co-extensive with the true direction of liberalism. Even those that explictly rejected Mill's civilizational mission were often infected by this tendency.

 

Utopia, Marx, Colonialism, and the Lockean Proviso

“As their cities are composed of families, so their families are made up of those that are nearly related to one another.  Their women, when they grow up, are married out, but all the males, both children and grand-children, live still in the same house, in great obedience to their common parent, unless age has weakened his understanding, and in that case he that is next to him in age comes in his room; but lest any city should become either too great, or by any accident be dispeopled, provision is made that none of their cities may contain above six thousand families, besides those of the country around it.  No family may have less than ten and more than sixteen persons in it, but there can be no determined number for the children under age; this rule is easily observed by removing some of the children of a more fruitful couple to any other family that does not abound so much in them. By the same rule they supply cities that do not increase so fast from others that breed faster; and if there is any increase over the whole island, then they draw out a number of their citizens out of the several towns and send them over to the neighbouring continent, where, if they find that the inhabitants have more soil than they can well cultivate, they fix a colony, taking the inhabitants into their society if they are willing to live with them; and where they do that of their own accord, they quickly enter into their method of life and conform to their rules, and this proves a happiness to both nations; for, according to their constitution, such care is taken of the soil that it becomes fruitful enough for both, though it might be otherwise too narrow and barren for any one of them. But if the natives refuse to conform themselves to their laws they drive them out of those bounds which they mark out for themselves, and use force if they resist, for they account it a very just cause of war for a nation to hinder others from possessing a part of that soil of which they make no use, but which is suffered to lie idle and uncultivated, since every man has, by the law of nature, a right to such a waste portion of the earth as is necessary for his subsistence.  If an accident has so lessened the number of the inhabitants of any of their towns that it cannot be made up from the other towns of the island without diminishing them too much (which is said to have fallen out but twice since they were first a people, when great numbers were carried off by the plague), the loss is then supplied by recalling as many as are wanted from their colonies, for they will abandon these rather than suffer the towns in the island to sink too low.--Thomas More Utopia. Book II

In a famous footnote, which inspired many generations of Marxist historians, in chapter 28 of Capital, Book 1, Marx calls attention to, and quotes, the description of the deleterious effects of the violent enclosures on farming communities in Book 1 of Utopia. Marx attributes the quote to Thomas More and not to the character Raphael Hythloday. This is notable because Thomas More is also a character in Utopia, with a perspective distinct from Hythloday's. This makes Utopia notorious (recall this post) difficult to interpret because one cannot take for granted that any character, including More, speaks for the author. 

To the best of my knowledge Marx never commented on the passage quoted above. In context, it is Hythloday's description of Utopian policy (that he endorses). The first part of the paragraph describes some of the mechanisms the Utopians use to keep population in a fixed equilibrium. (Given that the Utopians have managed to root out famine, and run food surpluses, we can infer there are more mechanisms.) One of the mechanisms mentioned in the passage is the practice -- which resonates with known Greek and Roman history -- to send out colonists in order to control population in the homeland (Utopia).

The Utopian colonists settle in places where the land can support more inhabitants than the existing local population. At that point the colonized either voluntary allow themselves to be subsumed under the Utopians way of life or resist; and then get attacked by the Utopians.

At this point, Hythloday mentions the Utopian justification for colonial war: when "a nation [hinders] others from possessing a part of that soil of which they make no use, but which is suffered to lie idle and uncultivated, since every man has, by the law of nature, a right to such a waste portion of the earth as is necessary for his subsistence."  This argument has been called "the agricultural argument" (by Thomas Flanagan) and it has been treated, as Barbara Arneil implies, as an anticipation of features of the Lockean proviso.

To be sure, the actual law of nature reported Hythloday is better understood as a kind of right of necessity. The idea that under great duress you can take from others some of their property in order to survive. This right of necessity was common ground in the sixteenth century, and we find echoes of it as late as Adam Smith and Sophie de Grouchy, although to the best of my knowledge it was not used to justify colonial war.

It is peculiar that Hythloday does not note that the justification for colonial war is patently being abused. The Utopian colonists are not starving at home. At any given time, the Utopians have two years' food stored. To repeat, they leave Utopia in order to keep the population stable (which is the point of the whole paragraph in context) not to flee famine. 

As an aside, when a few pages later, Hythloday, moves to the subject of war, he presents them as near pacifists: "They detest war as a very brutal thing, and which, to the reproach of human nature, is more practised by men than by any sort of beasts.  They, in opposition to the sentiments of almost all other nations, think that there is nothing more inglorious than that glory that is gained by war." It turns out that there are only three official justifications for war: (i) "either to defend themselves or their friends from any unjust aggressors;" (ii) or to "assist an oppressed nation in shaking off the yoke of tyranny." In addition, and somewhat surprisingly also (iii) "offensive wars" but they never do that "unless they had been consulted before the breach was made, and, being satisfied with the grounds on which they went, they had found that all demands of reparation were rejected, so that a war was unavoidable." Hythloday seems to have forgotten the justification for colonial wars.

To return to the main argument. The Utopian justification for colonial wars is, of course, not just rooted in version of the right of necessity. As we have seen it also relies on the idea that one has no right to keep others from appropriating uncultivated land. When Utopia was published (1517), the Spanish were just starting their colonial projects. (Hythloday is presented as Portuguese who had traveled, in part, with Amerigo Vespucci.) So, the book has an uncanny prophetic quality. It is, then, no surprise that this feature of the Utopian justification for colonial wars are thought to anticipate Locke (recall):

Nor was this appropriation of any parcel of land, by improving it, any prejudice to any other man, since there was still enough and as good left, and more than the yet unprovided could use. So that, in effect, there was never the less left for others because of his enclosure for himself. For he that leaves as much as another can make use of, does as good as take nothing at all. Nobody could think himself injured by the drinking of another man, though he took a good draught, who had a whole river of the same water left him to quench his thirst. And the case of land and water, where there is enough of both, is perfectly the same.

It is uncanny how much this resembles the Utopian frame of mind. After all, the whole point of Utopian ideology and practice is to improve the land. Of course, the Utopians have no interest in defending individual property rights (Locke); their colonies also embrace communal ownership.+  And while I don't mean to suggest that the Utopians have an explicit formulation of the spoilage condition, they would clearly endorse it.* 

I close with three observations: first, the pre-history of the Lockean proviso explicitly involves a colonial project. Second, the Lockean proviso has roots in very egalitarian tendencies (for the in-group); this suggests that -- pace my colleague Bas Van der Vossen -- the left libertarian interpretation of Locke may well be defensible on broader contextual grounds. 

Third, and finally, there is no contradiction between Hythloday's endorsement of colonial land-grabbing of idle land, and his criticism of enclosure of the commons (which need not be idle, after all). It is uncanny how, when discussing colonialism and Wakefield's political economy, in chapter 33 of Capital, Marx sees the connection: "We have seen that the expropriation of the mass of the people from the soil forms the basis of the capitalist mode of production. The essence of a free colony, on the contrary, consists in this — that the bulk of the soil is still public property."

Of course, Marx goes on to say that the: "secret" of prosperity is that "every settler on it therefore can turn part of it into his private property and individual means of production, without hindering the later settlers in the same operation." But, analytically, as More discerned, this is also true of communist settler colonies. 

On Habermas on (The Ideal Type of) Liberalism

According to the “liberal” or Lockean view, the democratic process acomplishes [sic] the task of programming the government in the interest of society, where the government is represented as an apparatus of public administration, and society as a market-structured network of interactions among private persons. Here politics (in the sense of the citizens’ political will-formation) has the function of bundling together and pushing private interests against a government apparatus specializing in the administrative employment of political power for collective goals...(1)

According to the liberal view, the citizen’s status is primarily determined according to negative rights they have vis-8-vis the state and other citizens. As bearers of these rights they enjoy the protection of the government, as long as they pursue their private interests within the boundaries drawn by legal statutes - and this includes protection against government interventions. Political rights, such as voting rights and free speech, not only have the same structure but also a similar meaning as civil rights that provide a space within which legal subjects are released from external compulsion. They give citizens the opportunity to assert their private interests in such a way that by means of elections, the composition of parliamentary bodies, and the formation of a government, these interests are finally aggregated into a political will that makes an impact on the administration....(2)

In the liberal view, the political process of opinion- and will-formation in the public sphere and in parliament is determined by the competition of strategically acting collectivities trying to maintain or acquire positions of power. Success is measured by the citizens’ approval, quantified as votes, of persons and programs. In their choices at the polls, voters give expression to their preferences. Their voting decisions have the same structure as the acts of choice made by participants in a market. They license access to the positions of power that political parties fight over in the same success oriented attitude....(3)

Both the liberal and the republican model presuppose a view of society as centered in the state - be it the state as guardian of a market-society or the state as the self-conscious institutionalization of an ethical community.
According to the liberal view, the democratic process takes place exclusively in the form of compromises between competing interests. Fairness is supposed to be granted by the general and equal right to vote, the representative composition of parliamentary bodies, by decision rules, and so on. Such rules are ultimately justified in terms of liberal basic rights....(6)

Whereas the separation of the state apparatus from society elicits a polemical reaction from the republican side, according to the liberal view it cannot be eliminated but only bridged by the democratic process. The regulated balancing of power and interests has need of constitutional channeling, of course. The democratic will-formation of self-interested citizens is laden with comparatively weak normative expectations. The constitution is supposed to tame the state apparatus through normative constraints (such as basic rights, separation of powers, etc.) and to force it, through the competition of political parties on the one hand and that between government and opposition on the other, to take adequate account of competing interests and value orientations. This state-centered understanding of politics can forego the unrealistic assumption of a citizenry capable of collective action. Its focus is not so much the input of a rational political will-formation but the output of sensible and effective administrative accomplishments. Liberal argumentation aims its salvos against the potential disturbance of an administrative power that interferes with the spontaneous forces of a self-regulating society. The liberal model hinges, not on the democratic self-determination of deliberating citizens, but on the legal institutionalization of an economic society that is supposed to guarantee an essentially nonpolitical common good by the satisfaction of private preferences...(7)

On the liberal view, democratic will-formation has the exclusive function of legitimating the exercise of political power. Election results are the license to assume governmental power, whereas the government must justify the use of power to the public....(8)

Liberalism opposes this with the more realistic view that in the constitutional state any authority originating from the people is exercised only “by means of elections and voting and by specific legislative, executive, and judicial organs.” (9)--- Jürgen Habermas (1994) "Three normative models of democracy." [HT Uğur Aytaç]

In his famous article, Habermas creates ideal types or normative models of liberal and republican theories in order to present his own procedularist-deliberative modal as an attractive alternative to both. Above I have cut and pasted most of the texts that represent the liberal approach in Habermas' argument. This approach he explicitly associates with Locke and the (constitutional) Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany. But it is pretty clear that when he writes about liberalism he is thinking of Schumpeterian and Hayekian views as mediated by some of the Ordoliberals.

While I am critical of his presentation of liberalism in what follows, it is worth noting that Habermas is right to claim that liberalism is state-centric in a certain sense even if I don't like his way of putting it ("a view of society as centered in the state.") For, the liberal view of society is precisely that it is in many respects/dimensions autonomous from, and, when functioning properly even a check on, the state. But historically and conceptually, liberalism is a mitigation of the ills of the mercantile-imperial state which is a successful war-making and economic extraction machine. The two key points here are that liberalism both always presupposes considerable state capacity (along many dimensions) as well as wishes to redirect this capacity to less harmful ends (and ideally win-win ends) and to utilize it to turn the state into a guardian of the individual and voluntary cooperative projects she may engage with others (as long as these don't harm non-participants). The former entails that where state capacity is absent it is an open question if liberalism is the right political theory. The latter entails that there is a constant vacillation in liberal reflection on where the greatest danger lies--in an overbearing state, in state capture for illiberal ends, and the harms the powerful inflict on the less powerful.

The polemically useful mistake -- and it is an error that too many friends of liberalism fall into, too -- is that Habermas identifies the liberal conception of society, and the private sphere more generally, with market relations (" society as a market-structured network of interactions among private persons.") Now liberals, even skeptical liberals like myself (recall), do not view market relations with suspicion. But it is important to be clear about the fact that markets are themselves merely one instance of voluntary actions, even joint actions. And that society is not merely a market structured network, but also a whole range of other voluntary projects, including associations (religion and non-religious), clubs, and even non-market solutions to allocation projects and the stewardship of common goods. (This is why (recall) the Ostroms are so important to late twentieth century liberalism.)   

Because the liberal view of society is so heterogeneous, liberalism can better accommodate the important idea that the interests and preferences of people are multi-dimensional. This means that neither voting nor market transactions (nor jointly) exhaust the ways in which voluntary and collective agency can be legitimate or be legitimated. The previous two sentences indicate that liberalism is much more skeptical about single measures of success or the capacity of a representative agent construct* to do justice to this heterogeneity. (It also entails that value pluralism is much more multi-dimensional than is often thought.) To be sure some liberals have anti-democratic sensibilities, but I view that as aberration (and I hope Jacob Levy can cure them).

I do not deny that there is a technocratic strain focused on output legitimacy in twentieth century liberalism. But Habermas' presentation makes it sound as if the administrative power is there, for the liberal, to satisfy the preferences of individuals (as one can encounter in utilitarian government house attitudes). But the point is that liberals suspect that the administrative power is fatally unaware of too many of the preferences of individuals -- which are not revealed in voting nor only in market actions -- to accomplish this task (of preference satisfaction) nor capable of accomplishing preference satisfaction of individuals without risking other harms. Rather the purpose of the liberal, administrative state is to facilitate -- through provision of public goods, public culture, and stewardship of the rule of law -- the life projects of individual and associated citizens (including highly politicized ones expressed through single issue NGOs, demonstrations, political parties (sure!) and public opinion formation) many of which orthogonal to individual voting preferences. 

One final point: liberalism  does not expect the constitution (or constitutional courts) to tame the state. This is just one mechanism, and because the rule law presupposes rather fallible judges and prosecutors, a rather fragile mechanism, for mitigating the dangers from effective state capacity. Obviously, it is welcome when judges have an esprit des corps informed by impartiality, fairness, and justice, but liberals are always aware that they, too, are subject to human imperfection and temptation. 

So, at the level of an ideal type liberalism is messy. That's a feature, not a bug.

Political-Theological Original Sin & Compensation from a Libertarian Point of View

These lands, largely or mostly, were originally taken by the sword, and have ever since been held by the sword. Neither the original robbers, nor any subsequent holders, have ever had any other than a robber’s title to them. And robbery gives no better title to lands than it does to any other property.

No lapse of time can cure this defect in the original title. Every successive holder not only indorses all the robberies of all his predecessors, but he commits a new one himself by withholding the lands, either from the original and true owners, or from those who, but for those robberies, would have been their legitimate heirs and assigns....

The fact that the direct descendants of the original holders of these lands cannot now be individually traced, and reinstated in the property of their ancestors, cannot screen the present holders from their just liability; since the original robbery of the lands, and the entailing them in the families of the original robbers, have not only deprived the direct descendants of the original holders of their rights, but have also deprived all other persons of their natural rights to buy these lands. These other persons, therefore, as well as the direct descendants of the original holders, have a wrong to be redressed. And these two classes, as they cannot now be distinguished from each other, should make common cause...

And do not imagine that the present landholders alone are to be finally held liable. All who have been voluntary accomplices with them—and all who have voluntarily aided in upholding the British government, have been accomplices with them—have justly incurred the same penalty as the landholders themselves. Among these accomplices have been your great manufacturers, merchants, bankers, ship-owners, money-lenders (lenders of money to the government)—everybody, in fact, high or low, who has voluntarily been part and parcel of the British government—have been accomplices in the thousand crimes by which the people at large, throughout the Empire, have been plundered and enslaved. And having been such accomplices, their property may as rightfully be seized for purposes of reparation, as may the lands of the landholders themselves; for every member of a conspiracy shares in the guilt of all the others; and is equally liable with them to be coerced into making restitution and compensation.--Lysander Spooner (1880) "Revolution: The Only Remedy for the Oppressed Classes of Ireland, England, and Other Parts of the British Empire."

Lysander Spooner  [Recall here, here, here, and here], an American abolitionist is, I think, only remembered by Libertarians. In many ways he is a Lockean  and, as the quoted passage reveals, he has a very robust conception of individual property rights. These rights can be inherited and endure long after they have been violated. In context he is discussing the dispossession of the native Irish by the British, but as the final quoted sentence suggests he is willing to generalize the case much more broadly. I am unfamiliar with his views on the rights of native Americans, but because (I) Spooner very clearly denies American exceptionalism throughout his writings and (II) has no special fondness (to put it mildly) for the American form of government, there is no reason to assume his views couldn't be extended to cover the claims of original American inhabitants (if he were to be persuaded that these had some form of property). 

So from sound Lockean principles, Spooner generates a right to compensation for loss of property/country even if this occurred many generations ago. (For example, he is quite clear that much of the British isles have been robbed from original owners since the invasion of the Saxons.) It is worth articulating the further principles Spooner relies to secure this. First, even though present occupants did not commit any crimes they are, first, complicit in the effects of the crime and, second, their occupancy prevents both the heirs of the original title-holders to benefit from the property, but also the counterfactual-would-be-new-owners of it if the (heirs of these) occupants would have been willing to sell or gift their property to them.

In fact, what's attractive about Spooner's approach is that he has, as the final quoted paragraph reveals, a very robust conception of complicity in crimes. And it follows from his account that all who are complicit in an original crime ought to compensate it. (He is quiet about the exact principles of compensation; how to evaluate the original value of the loss; how to figure out who the would be counterfactual-would-be-occupants; if the compensation has to take the place of return of property or payment, etc.) All settler/colonial projects generate obligations to compensation for successive generations.

These obligations are, and this is striking for a Libertarian, rather collective: while the argument goes through the complicity of individual accomplishes, the present inhabitants of a settler/colonial state X are collectively accomplices in the extension of the original theft and violation of rights. Spooner (who clearly has no interest in organized Christianity) here comes close to embracing a collective, original sin account of many states. (He is the kind of libertarian who thinks most actually existing governments are ways for the powerful to oppress the weak.) The bad origin of states generates obligations on present citizens.

Because the present occupants and their governments are tend to fail to meet their obligation to compensate, violence against them, especially the very rich who benefit most from the present status quo, is justified. On Spooner's view many present states are de facto continuation of the state of nature. (This is even more thoroughgoing than Spinoza, who thinks the state of nature is always a life possibility.) 

Spooner does not spell out if there are intermediary steps that heirs of the original victims, accomplices, and beneficiaries must/can take before violence is justified. These gaps in his argument are, alas, characteristic of Spooner who also often seems to embrace commitments that are in tension with each other. So, one would not want to read Spooner for the strengths of his arguments and rigor. In addition, Spooner's positions are often neither pragmatic nor likely to be taken up by those that determine the status quo. But his works reveal that the distinctly American libertarian impulse (with its thoroughgoing embrace of individual property rights) originates in genuine concern for dispossessed others (slaves, irish, colonial inhabitants, workers, etc.) and that the radical implications of this concern are pursued with moral vigour.* Because Spooner rejects quietism, it is a bitter irony that his philosophy which explicitly aims at peace, ends up embracing conditions that would lead to permanent war until states disappear. 

On David Graeber Against Adam Smith

[1] Adam Smith…was determined to overturn the conventional wisdom of his day. Above all, [2] he objected to the notion that money was a creation of government. [3] In this, Smith was the intellectual heir of the Liberal tradition of philosophers like John Locke, who had argued that government begins in the need to protect private property and operated best when it tried to limit itself to that function. Smith expanded on the argument, insisting that [4] property, money and markets not only existed before political institutions but [4*] were the very foundation of human society. [5] It followed that insofar as government should play any role in monetary affairs, it should limit itself to guaranteeing the soundness of the currency. [6] It was only by making such an argument that he could insist that economics is itself a field of human inquiry with its own principles and laws-that is, as distinct from, say ethics or politics. Smith's argument is worth laying out in detail because it is, as I say, [7] the great founding myth of the discipline of economics.—David Graeber Debt: The first 5000 Years, 24-25 [numbers added for ease of discussion--ES]

Regular readers know I am an admirer of Graeber's Debt (recall here, here, and here). The book offers a bold vision in which geographically and temporally distant evidence is brought to bear on central issues in political economy. In addition, it alerted me to the significance of the revival of interest among anthropologists in what we may call culturally embedded and shaped human universals, and a willingness to avoid the easy relativism characteristic of much ethnography (and history). Today's post is a bit more nit-picky than my previous ones on Graeber and focuses on a subsidiary issue in the work. It's not an irrelevant issue, however, because Graeber's criticism of Smith frame the work.+ Okay, with that out of the way, let me get started.

The core of Graeber’s argument turns on an extended fictional description, we may call it a thought experiment, of the origin of currency out of the inconveniences of barter. The description of a tribe of “hunters or shepherds” (WN 1.2.3) is introduced at the start of the Wealth of Nations, by Smith to explain the origin and benefits of the division of labor. Graeber has good fun showing that this “faraway fantasy” seems “to be an amalgam of North American Indians and Central Asian pastoral nomads;” (25) the example exhibits “a tendency to slip from imaginary savages to small-town shopkeepers.” (26) As Graeber correctly notes, according the thought experiment, “everyone will inevitably start stockpiling something they figure that everyone else is likely to want. This has a paradoxical effect, because at a certain point, rather than making that commodity less valuable (since everyone already has some) it becomes more valuable (because it becomes, effectively, currency).” (26) After quoting Smith extensively, Graeber helpfully summarizes the upshot of  Smith’s narrative, “Using irregular metal ingots is easier than barter, but wouldn't standardizing the units-say, stamping pieces of metal with uniform designations guaranteeing weight and fineness, in different denominations-make things easier still? Clearly it would, and so was coinage born.” (27) Before we accuse Graeber of being unfair to Smith, he explicitly recognizes that Smith quickly turns to how standardized coinage into an instance of abuses of state power, which with its control over  the mind can defraud other creditors easily. So, there is ample evidence for Graeber’s claims [1-7] in Smith’s text.*

Now, an alert reader may well be suspicious of the fact that I am calling Smith’s treatment of the origin of money a “thought experiment.” My point in doing so is, indeed, to discount Smith’s commitment to the “faraway fantasy” as articulating the (hypothetical) origin of money and property. There are three mutually supporting reasons for this that draw on significant commitments of Smith articulated later in Wealth of Nations.

First, the whole set up of the thought experiment contradicts Smith’s four-stage stadial theory of the development of civilizations. In it, there is a natural progression from (i) a savage stage  of hunter-gathering-fishing; (ii) shepherding by nomadic tribes; (iii) sedentary agriculture; to (iv) commercial society characterized by trading. (WN 5.1.a.3–8) These stages are akin to Weberian ideal types in which the whole order and practices of a society are characterized by its predominant economic organization. To be sure, the four stages do not necessarily follow each other and they can succeed each other out of sequence. Smith also allows that in the territory of a large state the stages coincide. As Graeber notes, it is a very peculiar that Smith seems to mix many different kinds of societies in his example.  And a critic of Smith may see in the contradiction outlined in this paragraph as a problem for Smith; my talk of 'a thought experiment' may seem overly charitable using later passages of Wealth of Nations to interpret earlier ones. But it is worth nothing that Smith had already called attention to his embrace of something like a stadial theory in the Introduction of his work (where he draws a prominent contrast between the misery of "savage nations" of fishers and hunters and the "abundance" of commercial society) and (less prominently) in chapter 1 ("progress of society.")

Now Smith does claim that some medium of exchange is adopted by "every prudent man in every period of society, after the first establishment of the division of labor." (WN. 1.4.2) Of course, not  everybody is prudent, but even so Smith is here committed to the claim that some medium(s) of exchange is likely to exist in every society. This matters because Smith can be read as claiming that government originates in the (second) shepherding stage where the rich cattle/herd owners institute government in order to defend themselves against the poor as a kind of a protection racket. (WN 5.1.a.15) ISo, that Smith would agree with Locke that there is property and money prior to the formation of government. While Smith is not a contractarian, in this sense he is a Lockean (as I have also argued). And Graeber is surely right in thinking that for much of human history government is really an instrument of the rich and powerful to subjugate the poor and powerless.

Second, however, when Smith address the question of the origin of government and property, Smith does not claim that money and property must proceed government. Rather he claims that "Among nations of hunters," [the first stage], "as there is scarce any property, or at least none that exceeds the value of two or three days’ labour, so there is seldom any established magistrate or any regular administration of justice." (WN 5.1.b.2) So, while Smith thinks it is likely that property will precede the existence of government, he does not think property must precede government. Rather, he thinks that most of the time people in the hunting stage are so poor and relatively equal, there is little reason to expect the rise of a regular government in it. (That is, he allows the existence of some authority and hierarchy, but not full blooded government.) He makes the exact same point at the end of the very long paragraph (which articulates his narrative of the origins of government): "The acquisition of valuable and extensive property [in a shepherding stage], therefore, necessarily requires the establishment of civil government. Where there is no property, or at least none that exceeds the value of two or three days labour, civil government is not so necessary."

So, Smith's position is that in the conditions akin to the Lockean state of nature, government is possible. But this means that for Smith it is explicitly and entirely possible that government can precede the existence of property and the development of a medium of exchange. Rather than seeing a contradiction in two strands of Wealth of Nations, it makes a lot more sense to see that by Smith's lights, the thought experiment does not entail anything about the origin of the institution of adopting a medium of exchange and (later) an official government approved currency. Rather the thought experiment is meant to illustrate  why such institutions (medium of exchange/currency, etc.) would be (to speak informally) more welfare enhancing (Graeber uses 'efficient' in his summary of Smith--that's fine, too, if one recognizes it is an informal notion). This is why it shows up in all societies. Of course, Graeber may legitimately claim that Smith's stadial theory is out of date. But that does not touch upon their present debate.

I promised three reasons. For the third, we need to move back to the very first chapter of Wealth of Nations, which precedes the thought example that Graeber criticizes and may, thus, be naively presupposed in its  interpretation. I have in mind this famous passage:

Whoever offers to another a bargain of any kind, proposes to do this. Give me that which I want, and you shall have this which you want, is the meaning of every such offer; and it is in this manner that we obtain from one another the far greater part of those good offices which we stand in need of. It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantages. Nobody but a beggar chuses to depend chiefly upon the benevolence of his fellow citizens. (WN 1.2.2)

Now, the main point here is that trade presupposes mutual interest. And nothing I'll say will undercut that. In addition, as Sam Fleischacker has emphasized, Smith is emphasizing here the significance  of mutual persuasion in any trade. It is worth asking what happens to Smith's framework when markets become anonymous, but that's for another time.** However, for present purposes the key point is the final claim--that exchange and begging take place among citizens and so within a political framework. The significance of Smith's point may be missed if one forgets that in the eighteenth century there was an extremely limited (male) franchise based on wealth. So, while Smith does not reduce market and begging relations to their political context, he does not ignore these either.

Let me sum up because I have gone on long enough. Where does this leave Graeber's seven theses? Leaving aside [1], which is irrelevant for present purposes, we have undermined [1],[4] and [6]. I think Graeber is right about [2]; it's clear Smith thinks that money need not be the creation of government. But I don't think Graeber can show that Smith thinks money is never the creation of government.

With regard to [3], I have shown that Graeber is right that government generally (! begins in the need to protect private property (and in this sense is a Lockean). But it does not follow that Smith thinks government should limit itself to this task. As the one-time Chicago economists, Jacob Viner and George Stigler already showed, Smith's task for government are rather expansive, including  (inter alia) the maintenance of a standing arm and the martial spirit of nation (WN 5.1.f.60) the seting up of roads, tolls, canals (WN 5.1.d.5) primarily to be paid for by progressive taxes on wealthy; the maintenance of public health (WN 5.1.f.60); provide for public education for the poor (WN 5.1.f.55); and even imposition of prudential building codes to prevent spread of fire (WN 2.2.94, while defending his financial regulation).

With regard to [5], it is possible that Graeber is right that for Smith "government should play any role in monetary affairs, it should limit itself to guaranteeing the soundness of the currency." I don't think this is right. If anything, much of Book 2 of Wealth of Nations is a critical treatment of the financial sector--Smith thought it should be regulated carefully including the details of money creation by banks (but about that see my book). It is also possible, of course, that Graeber is right about [7]; that regardless of Smith's own views, Smith is the source of a myth that became constitutive of the way economics ended up understanding itself and its object of study and the nature of its knowledge. I leave  that question for another day.++

 

On the role of Systematicity in an Impure Theory of a (Pluralistic) Liberalism worth Having

The man of system, on the contrary, is apt to be very wise in his own conceit; and is often so enamoured with the supposed beauty of his own ideal plan of government, that he cannot suffer the smallest deviation from any part of it.--Adam Smith (1790) The Theory of Moral Sentiments

The quoted passage from TMS is one of the epigraphs to Jacob T. Levy's (2015) Rationalism, Pluralism & Freedom (RPF). The other is to a passage from Mill's (1862) Centralization, in which Mill warns against local despotism. Levy's inspiring book, which is both a mitigated defense of the significance of intermediaries to a liberalism worth having as well as a fascinating re-visionary history of liberalism* in which the tradition of reflection on the so-called 'ancient constitution' is an independent stream, is framed by the often competing dangers and aspirations emanating from the so-called 'man of system' and the 'bussybodies.' The man of system represents the rationalistic impulse that in the name of justice and efficiency tends toward homogenization, (Weberian) rationalization, and a controlling, strong central government suspicious of local powers. Levy's discussion is useful to the scholar because he nicely brings out the ways in which Smith is clearly indebted to Montesquieu (and joins him in defending the significance of intermediaries) and especially astute about the ways Smith diagnoses the dangers of both central power(s) and local elites. Levy's book is so good that I regret not reading it before I completed my own, while  recognizing that if I had down so (it appeared when mine was under review) it would have caused lengthy delay.+

Before I get to a critical digression, I want to make two preliminary comments. One personal pleasure in reading Levy's book is that it provides a nice background to Levy's more general views familiar to regular readers of his essays (which often inspire me to figure out what I think); Levy has that rare capacity to speak to the political moment in an intellectual fashion with a distinctive, moral compass without falling victim to partisanship. While reading the book I felt I was visiting a friend in his home environment showing me his study and, thereby, allowing me to connect some dots about him. Second, Levy's book is self-consciously a contribution to impure political philosophy (a term borrowed from Williams). It is, thus, worth reflecting on RPF as an exemplar in that genre (not unlike Sabl's Hume's Politics). Some other time, I'll say more about Levy's contribution to the nature of such impure theory. What follows is a kind of indirect comment on that topic, too.

As noted above, Levy draws generous inspiration from Smith's critique of systematicity. He returns (66) to the passage from TMS quoted at the top of this post, and quotes it (alongside Montesquieu) more fully:

The man of system, on the contrary, is apt to be very wise in his own conceit; and is often so enamoured with the supposed beauty of his own ideal plan of government, that he cannot suffer the smallest deviation from any part of it. He goes on to establish it completely and in all its parts, without any regard either to the great interests, or to the strong prejudices which may oppose it. He seems to imagine that he can arrange the different members of a great society with as much ease as the hand arranges the different pieces upon a chess-board. He does not consider that the pieces upon the chess-board have no other principle of motion besides that which the hand impresses upon them; but that, in the great chess-board of human society, every single piece has a principle of motion of its own, altogether different from that which the legislature might chuse to impress upon it. 

Levy rightly resists the hungry temptation (familiar from those inspired by Hayek) to turn Smith into a mere critic of social planning. Smith here is defending not just gradualism, but also the political dangers in trying to eliminate intermediaries, that is, "the great interests." In the paragraphs just before the one that Levy quotes, Smith discusses these in terms of "the great orders;" the core upshot of that discussion can be summarized as follows, "The man whose public spirit is prompted altogether by humanity and benevolence, will respect the established powers and privileges even of individuals, and still more those of the great orders and societies, into which the state is divided" (emphasis added). As Levy correctly notes Smith's political theory is both a great critique of the moral abuses of intermediaries (including guilds, imperialistic monopolies, state religions, etc.) and aims at defending the rights of these. Social intermediaries are worth preserving and are, in fact, not simply reducible to the the desires and interests of those that compose them (recall)--they have a principle of motion of their their own (that is also resistant to outside imposition).** While I would emphasize more (than Levy does) the significance of aesthetics (apparent "beauty") to the "madness" of fanaticism that is a danger in Smith's "man of system," so far so good.

But Levy's analysis of Smith and the nature of systems is also partial. I say this not to deny that for Smith "love of system" tends to generate not just fanaticism or expert-overconfidence. But that Levy omits something important starts to become clear if we also quote the closing sentence of the paragraph, which Levy fails omits:

If those two principles coincide and act in the same direction, the game of human society will go on easily and harmoniously, and is very likely to be happy and successful. If they are opposite or different, the game will go on miserably, and the society must be at all times in the highest degree of disorder.

Here we see that what Smith is after, and this is something that Levy explicitly recognizes  (when discussing Montesquieu): that social reformers are more likely to succeed, and less likely to generate dangerous, political "disorder," if their reforms work with the "grain" of society, that is, the interests and commitments of intermediaries (and individuals). Social reform is not left to the market or only to bottom up processes; it can be influenced and guided by the center if it (the center) is capable of understanding its own limitations and taking into account the interests and aims of social actors.

In addition, the center must be guided by a system. For Smith claims, in the first sentence of the next paragraph, that “some general, and even systematical, idea of the perfection of policy and law, may no doubt be necessary for directing the views of the statesman.” Such a system allows it to avoid acting in ad hoc fashion and also be able to grasp which compromises are worth accepting and which undermine its moral and political aims. That is, a system is required to guide (not control) long-term planning and to allow trade-offs to be modeled and foreseen. For, while “the judgments of mankind [can be] perverted by wrong systems,” Smith actually explicitly defends systematicity--this should come as no surprise because throughout his life, Smith called attention to (a) the systematicity of his own works (say, here and here) and (b) he refers to his own project as a "system of natural liberty." More important, Smith thought that (c) a proper, (aestheticized) “love of system” can activate the most “noble and magnificent” political and philanthropic projects and the right sort of “public spirit.” In particular, a system-inspired public spirit can even compensate for an absence of the love of humanity or “pure sympathy” in a political agent.++ (Smith is often treated as a sentimentalist, but throughout his writings rules and the reflections of reason can compensate for lack of feeling.) For the a system that can or does generate such “public welfare” is a system worth having. (An important element in a right sort of system is Smith's concern to address inductive risk, but about that another time more.)

Let me wrap up. Levy's book attunes the reader to the the frequent dissonances between the "freedom to associate"" and the "freedom within (or from) group life."  (I write "frequent" because Levy is is equally astute about the ways such freedoms can reinforce each other.) Levy is, however, a skeptic about the ability of a normative and impure system that can do full justice to such dissonances. I think this is due to the fact that the most influential systems we have either rationalize these away (toward one side, often favoring the state or justice at the expense of other important liberal commitments) or contain non-trivial (Rawlsian) "wobbles" from  the point of view of coherence and reason. But what makes Smith especially notable today, or so I argue in my book, is that he is an exemplar in offering such a system without the (one-sided) rationalization or the wobble. That's not because Smith squares a theoretical circle (overlooked by Levy and the tradition), but because he embraces deviations from reason and coherence as an endemic feature of social life and internalizes it in his system (or so I argue). This generates its own tensions, of course, but about these another time.