“Ending Useless Lives” – A Critique of Matthew Parris

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The UK Government’s Assisted Dying Bill, which was defeated in the House of Commons in September of this year, was, rightly, a controversial one. The question of assisted suicide, in order to prevent the onset of pain or the so-called “loss of dignity” from a degenerative disease or old age, is disputed amongst libertarians too, with some asserting that if you own your body and your life you should be able to do whatever you want with it, whereas others claim that anything that seeks the destruction or termination of one’s life is antithetical to freedom.

We are not, of course, hoping to resolve this kind of debate here. Rather, the focus of this essay is an interesting article that appeared recently in The Spectator authored by Matthew Parris entitled “Some day soon we’ll all accept that useless lives should be ended” and subtitled “If the law does not lead, it will follow — at root the reason is Darwinian”. Parris states forthrightly what he believes will be a result of any assisted dying law, a result that most people do not wish to countenance – that, one day, we will encourage and/or require people to end their lives. Unwittingly, however, Parris unveils not the dangers of any assisting dying bill at all. Rather, it is the dangers of the culture of statism in which such a law would be enacted, a culture of government permissibility, prohibition and encouragement which has seeped into our psyche that rejects any difference between law and positive morality.

The argument (deployed by opponents of assisted dying) is that licensing assisted dying is to smile upon the practice. The legal change would act as a cultural signal that society now approves. This would in time lead to pressure on those who might not otherwise have contemplated ending their lives, to hasten their own demise — so as ‘not to be a burden’ on others. One day (say the faith squad) it could even become the norm.

I am sure they’re right. We who may argue for ‘permissive’ legislation must have the intellectual honesty to admit that the ending of a legal prohibition does act as a social signal. In vain do we protest that ‘nobody is forcing’ upon anybody else (say) same-sex marriage, or the cashing in of pension pots, or a quickie divorce, or the possession of marijuana. Indeed not. Nobody is forcing these delights upon others, but humans are social animals and one of the ways a society signals its attitudes is by criminalising behaviour it thinks very harmful, and decriminalising behaviour towards which its attitude has softened. [Emphasis added]

It is clear from this that Parris views government laws and the will of “society” as harmonious – that government restricts what “society” does not want and permits what “society” does want. There is, therefore, in Parris’s view a union between government and people, that we are all one. It is clear also that Parris views “government” and “society” as primacies – any rights and freedoms we enjoy exist because society and government have been kind enough to pass “permissive” legislation so that we can enjoy them. “Society”, however, is not some mysterious entity with its own cognitive ability and even if it was there is no reason for the government to be in step with anything “society” decides. The prevailing attitudes, opinions and points of view on certain moral subjects originate in the minds of individuals in disagreement with the points of view of other individuals. After all, if everyone was in agreement the alleged immoral act would never occur and hence laws against it would be pointless. Never does Parris consider that the law is simply being used by one set of persons to curtail the freedom of others. Never does it occur to him that the law’s proper scope is to simply prevent invasive violence between individuals and not to confer any moral propriety on anything. Rights and freedoms originate with individual people and do not require the government to permit them. They require a total absence of government, not any piece of government paper with a Royal assent or presidential signature in order to bring them about.

The stoning to death of women taken in adultery under sharia law is undoubtedly the signal of a cultural attitude towards adultery. Were you to advocate the abolition of this punishment, Islamic moral conservatives would be right to warn that the move would both indicate and encourage a softening of public moral disapproval of female adultery. Likewise, the progressive removal of legal restraints on homosexuality has been both consequence and cause of an increasingly sympathetic attitude towards gays. It is futile to deny this

Assisted dying is not a novel desire, not a strange new way of thinking. As a moral impulse, the idea that one might hasten one’s end because one gained no pleasure from living and one had become a burden on friends, family and the state has been with us since the dawn of man. You will find it in literature right down the ages. In your own lifetime you will have heard it expressed by others of your acquaintance. The impulse, though, has usually been discouraged — resisted as an unworthy attitude to life — and this cultural disapproval is reflected in law.

To alter the law in a permissive way would therefore be pushing (as it were) at an open door: legitimising a moral argument that has always been present (or latent) among humans. I would have every expectation that, given the extra push, the habit would grow.

All of this would be true only if one accepts the view that law either is or should be, by its presence or absence, a promoter of positive morality. As libertarians we reject this view. Perhaps stoning adulterous women and criminalising homosexual behaviour was rejected not to signal any cultural approval but merely because what people do to each other in their own bedrooms is no business of the state nor of anyone else? Legalising them simply means that legitimised violence cannot be used to prevent them by people who have no business interfering in the lives of others. There is no reason to suppose that legalisation, as well as having been a consequence of relaxed social attitudes towards certain acts, should be regarded as a continuing cause of this tolerance. Everyone is still free to disapprove of such acts and to disassociate themselves from them if they so wish. Nor is there any reason why legalisation should transform simple permissiveness into encouragement or promotion. Adultery may be legal today but it is not culturally acceptable to cheat on one’s partner, and such acts are met with indignation, disapproval and rebuke. Where there has, on the other hand, been a continuing social relaxation to acts such as homosexual behaviour it is because a greater exposure to these acts that legalisation permits has caused people to realise that such acts are probably not as horrific as they might have once thought from when all they knew about them was disseminated from the propaganda of the government and moral zealots. If, on the other hand, murder was to be legalised it is likely that such exposure would cause people to still regard this as horrific and abominable. Legalisation is not, therefore, necessarily a direct cause of any social attitude towards anything.

And so it must — indeed, in the end, will: and if it does not lead, the law will follow. At root the reason is Darwinian. Tribes that handicap themselves will not prosper. As medical science advances, the cost of prolonging human life way past human usefulness will impose an ever heavier burden on the community for an ever longer proportion of its members’ lives. Already we are keeping people alive in a near-vegetative state. The human and financial resources necessary will mean that an ever greater weight will fall upon the shoulders of the diminishing proportion of the population still productive. Like socialist economics, this will place a handicap on our tribe. Already the cost of medical provision in Britain eats into our economic competitiveness against less socially generous nations.

This does not mean an end to social generosity. It does not mean an end to economically unproductive state spending. These are social goods that we value for non-economic reasons, and should. But the value we place on them is not potentially infinite. They have their price. Life itself has its price. As costs rise, there will be a point at which our culture (and any culture) will begin to call for a restraining hand. I believe that when it comes to the cost of keeping very enfeebled people alive when life has become wretched for them, we’re close to that point.

Parris seems to have forgotten that “tribes” are only handicapped because they existed in a pre-capitalist era where they had to compete with either each other or with other tribes for a finite number of resources. Capitalist economies, however, allow every person to take their place in the division of labour and all are better off from the resulting manifold increase in productivity. More alarmingly, however, Parris seems to think that all values and ends are collectively held and desired. What is “useful” as well as the “costs” and “prices” of attaining these ends are all decided by the “culture” or by “society”. It is absolutely true that all ends have their price but the only reason these ends are priced by “society” is because the government has taken upon itself to socialise welfare and medical care. People only become a burden to everyone else because they are forced to pay for the sustenance of other people’s lives through the conduit of the state which cannot and will not ever do so in the most cost effective and sustainable way. Indeed, it is government that creates the problem of hordes of sick and dying individuals by encouraging demand through the provision healthcare and welfare that is either free or vastly reduced in cost at the point of need.

Parris refers to “socialist economics” as harming “the tribe” yet he doesn’t seem to realise that the tribal mentality that he adopts is precisely a symptom of socialisation and collectivism. Socialist economics doesn’t harm “the tribe”, which in Parris’s case seems to mean his country the UK, a country that must, for some reason Parris does not explain, remain “economically competitive” with other countries. Rather, socialist economics creates tribes in the first place, with the tribal leaders – the government, the heads of planning, etc. – deciding what is important ahead of everyone else. The value of “economic competitiveness” ahead of other ends would be valued by them, the leaders, and forced upon everyone else, with the “useless lives” sacrificed for that end. Parris makes a mistake typical of collectivist thinking which is to regard society, or man’s propensity to be a “social animal”, as requiring each human to value the same ends or to work towards the same goals. This is not true. Society exists because humans realise that they can pursue their own ends (that differ from everyone else’s ends) peacefully and more productively through the division of labour and voluntary trade. The beauty of this system lies in the fact that everyone can coexist peacefully and harmoniously while pursuing their own material, self-interest (and indeed can accomplish their individual goals to a much greater extent). It is utterly false to view society as a vast machine in which individual people comprise nothing more than metaphorical cogs and pistons, all fitting together and moving along to produce the same output. If, therefore, socialisation was ended, how much should be spent on medical care and on other so-called “economically unproductive” ends would be a matter for each individual person with their own individual means, or with the voluntary assistance of other people. They would willingly sacrifice their individual “economic competitiveness” and direct resources to providing for their care in old age at a point that was desirable to them without forcibly burdening everyone else.

I don’t even say we should look more benignly upon the termination of life when life is fruitless. I say we will. We may not be aware that our moral attitudes are being driven by the Darwinian struggle for survival, but in part they will be. And just as we feel ourselves looking more sympathetically at those who wish to end it all, so we shall be (unconsciously) looking at ourselves in the same way. The stigma will fade, and in its place will come a new description of selfishness, according to which it may be thought selfish of some individuals (including potentially ourselves) to want to carry on.

We admire Captain Oates for walking out of his tent and into his death when he judged his enfeeblement was threatening his colleagues’ chances of survival. That is an extreme case, but it illustrates a moral impulse that I expect to grow — and for the same reasons as it occurred to Oates: the good of our fellow men.

I do not therefore need to campaign for assisted dying. I do not need (and wouldn’t want) to persuade anybody that the time has come for them to end their lives. I don’t need to shout from the rooftops that suicide can be a fine and noble thing, or rail against the ever growing cost of medical care in the final, prolonged phase of people’s lives. My opinions and my voice are incidental. This is a social impulse which will grow, nourished by forces larger than all of us. I don’t exhort. I predict.

In these closing paragraphs Parris makes clear that he is not advocating the ending of life at some point that it is deemed socially useless. Rather, he makes it clear that it is an inevitable result of a Darwinian struggle for survival. This case may be probable, or even certain, under current conditions. The problem, however, is that Parris’s analysis once again misses the elephant in the room. Captain Oates only walked out of his tent because the resources available to him and his “fellow men” were finite – his “enfeeblement” threatened the survival of his colleagues because they lacked the ability to produce more resources. Government socialisation of welfare and medical resources replicates the predicament of Captain Oates across society as a whole, stifling production, and increasing demand of what becomes a dwindling supply of resources at ever spiralling costs. Moreover, statism and socialisation entrenches in our psyche the “common good”, the willingness to sacrifice the individual to upon the altar of the collective, a willingness which has only become necessary precisely as a result of the ineptitude of collectivism. So although we may have some, limited agreement with Parris’s “prediction” we can, as libertarians, respond emphatically that none of it is necessary if one simply puts an end to the mantle of the state. Had Parris abandoned his collectivist mind set he might have realised this.

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National Defence and Just Wars

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However much people may disagree on the proper functions of the state and however much people may argue about how those functions should be deployed, it is almost universally acknowledged that “national defence” – the protection of the citizenry from invasion by foreign states – is seen, together with domestic security and protection from private criminals, to be not only the primary function of the state but also its very raison d’être. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine how, without this function – given that it is joined at the hip with the state’s monopolistic use of force – there could possibly be any state whatsoever. Thus any opposition to government’s monopoly on security is expressed only by anarchists and those who wish to see an end to the state altogether.

In keeping with many libertarian commentators (for example, Robert Higgs in Crisis and Leviathan) we may acknowledge agreement here with the proposition that “war is the health of the state”, permitting a tremendous number of, at first, temporary, and then, enduringly permanent inroads into liberty that statists could only dream of during peacetime. The perpetual existence of a bogeyman, real or imagined, serves both to justify and to distract the average person from the state’s own increased privations upon the individual. However, what we wish to examine critically here is the validity of the assertion that “national defence”, so-called, is a proper function of the state as well as the question of whether any wars waged by states could be “just”.

First, the overwhelming concern of the individual is not “national defence” at all but, rather, defence of his own person and property – as well as the safety from harm of his friends and family. If defence of his person or property is his primary aim, however, surely he has more to fear from his own state rather than from any potential foreign invader? It is own state that taxes his income; it is his own state that has nationalised industries that he may use or work in; it is his own state that regulates what he may do, what he may choose to put into his own body or any other voluntary actions he may choose to do with other consenting adults. A change of forced rule from one state to another is not necessarily going to make any difference to any of this. One governing state may move out and another may move in with no noticeable change to the individual’s life whatsoever. Indeed, an invading state is normally interested in taking over the economic capacity of the lands that are eyed for conquest – it does not normally wish to reduce its prize to rubble and be left with a wasteland. To a large extent it will wish to leave infrastructure and existing property relations intact, particularly if it is to rely on the productivity of the conquered workforce. Indeed, the idea of the sanctity of the political border is relatively new in international relations and one that only really found concrete expression in the aftermath of World War I. Earlier, when wars were conducted by monarchs and royal families, territories used to change from the jurisdiction of one realm to another, simply switching ownership between monarchs and forming part of the victor’s private property. Indeed it was the wealth and power of the king, who owned his territory and his subjects, that determined the size of the realm. The day to day lives of the average folk were not likely to change a great deal. Today, if France and Britain were to have roughly the same kind of approach to private property ownership and towards civil liberties, what real difference would it make if the French government was to take over a chunk of Britain or the British to take over a piece of France? This fact betrays the real function of national defence, which is not to safeguard the person and property of the individual citizen at all. Rather, it is to protect the territorial integrity of the state and to defend the state and its rulers from being overthrown by other states and foreign crusaders. Just in the same way as one might erect a high fence to protect oneself from a bothersome neighbour, so too does the state use its monopolistic provision of “national defence” to protect itself. If this should be doubted and one is tempted to cling to the idea that government is there to protect us from evil foreigners, then why is it that the wealth, property and livelihoods of the citizenry are precisely what the state steamrollers over during wartime? Civil liberties are suspended, the news is censored, military slavery (politely known as “conscription”) is enforced, and all productive capacity is geared towards the war effort with food essentials heavily rationed and luxuries all but non-existent. It seems that protection of the people is the very last thing on the government’s mind when foreign threats loom large.

With the advent of democracy, where no one individual ruler “owns” any jurisdiction but, rather, it is supposedly run by a caretaker ruler for the good of “the people”, some kind of different criterion other than the extent of the property ownership of the king was needed to justify to the state’s prerogative to “national defence” and to mask its real purpose of protecting itself. Something had to be done to induce, in the population, the fear of foreign rule. Hence states began to invoke nationalistic sentiments in their populations and with it the sanctity of the political border. For without nationalistic fervour populations would have little willingness to defend the state from a foreign state. Bar nationalism, patriotism and strong cultural identities what reason would there be for a person to avoid being ruled by one government or another? Fortunately for the state all of this went hand in hand with the prevailing ideology of democracy and the economic policies that soon emerged – and, tragically, with horrifying results. First, democracy effectively nationalises the citizenry and makes everyone under the auspices of a particular government symbiotic with that government. Hence, when a foreign state invades it is not only “the” government that is under threat of takeover but “our” government. Second, as “democracy” has become synonymous with freedom, openness, and pluralism a natural fear of “other” forms of government – monarchs or dictators – is engrained. The terror of losing democracy to something that is, on the face of it, more despotic is used as a fervent justification for not only defensive but also offensive military action today. Thus, defence is imbued with ideological purpose. Third, state-dominated and collectivist economic policies naturally aggregate the people under the identity of the government. Under collectivism, the relevant economic unit is no longer the individual, choosing to fulfil his ends as best as he can with the available means, but, rather, “the nation”. All productive resources and all productive enterprises are geared by “the nation” towards “the nation’s” goals. Nations, not individual people and private entities, now compete with each other. Inputs, outputs and processes are heavily aggregated into relatively meaningless concepts such as “Aggregate Demand”, “Gross Domestic Product” and even the concepts of “exports” and “imports” are only really important if one views the world in political borders. Furthermore, the inefficiency and impoverishment caused by collectivism naturally creates a drive towards autarchy and xenophobic envy of the wealth and resources of neighbouring states. Under complete free trade, if Ruritania is predominantly agricultural and specialises in growing food, whereas Mauretania specialises in heavy industry and manufacturing, Ruritania would export food to Mauretania and the latter would use this to then fuel its industries and produce manufactured goods that are exported to Ruritania. Both countries benefit from the specialisation of the other and from trading their wares – indeed this is nothing more than division of labour by state rather than by individual. If, however, Mauretania’s government begins to interfere in its economy, its industries become less productive and less competitive; while the domestic market can be ring-fenced by protective tariffs, no such luxury can be imposed on the foreign market and Mauretania will find that demand for its exports in relation to other countries starts to dwindle. Thus, Ruritania will start exporting more food to other countries and less to Mauretania, leaving the latter with a food shortage relative to population. Hence comes the call from Mauretania’s government, recognising the resulting impoverishment, that Mauretania needs “self-sufficiency” in food. This was precisely the case of Germany before World War II, a heavy manufacturing nation that relied upon imported food, with food self-sufficiency being a major motivation for Hitler’s pursuit of lebensraum in the largely agrarian lands East of Germany’s borders. Indeed, Nazi Germany, a fascist-collectivist economy with potent – even doctrinal – nationalist fervour that resulted in one of the most horrific racially motivated exterminations in the whole of history is an instructive case that demonstrates the extremes of nationalism bred by collectivism, and this fact raises a pertinent question. If Nazi Germany was so horrible then why was it met with such mute opposition right up until the invasion of Poland (except for the bleating of Churchill during his so-called “wilderness years”)? Why was the Versailles Treaty so willingly shredded clause by clause until it was merely waste paper? Why so much willingness to accommodate and co-operate with such as awful regime? One reason surely has to be that under the post-World War I gold exchange standard, the New Deal and the pursuit of Keynesian macroeconomic policies to combat the Great Depression, everybody – not just Germany – was moving towards collectivist economic planning. Indeed, the New Deal and the associations and agencies it bred were modelled on those in Mussolini’s Italy. Policies such as the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act served to segregate each country as a closed economic unit and drive them towards autarchy. A related aspect of big government economies and welfare states is that they begin to view their populations as burdens as much as productive units – incessant consumers and eaters who put relentless pressure on “the nation’s” resources. Although today we can see this resulting in the concern of intellectuals with supposedly “excessive” population growth, in earlier days it helped produce the Eugenics movement, which had the aim of reducing those of lower “social and genetic worth” – i.e. the unproductive resource consumers –  and was largely discredited in the aftermath of World War II as a result of the Nazi policy of racial sterilisation. Perhaps even more visually embarrassing is that school children in the US recited the pledge of allegiance with the Bellamy salute – a variant of the Nazi salute. Any ideological weapons against Nazi Germany were, as a result, able to achieve only a blunt impact simply because they were not so sharply delineated. The uncomfortable truth is that Nazi Germany was fundamentally no different from any other state at the time – it’s just that Hitler took these fundamentals to their logical conclusion and the results were horrific. Indeed, “national defence” implies the preference for and superiority of one’s own race, culture and creed – for if these things do not matter to the individual citizen then so too does it not matter which particular foreigner takes over the government and starts delivering the mail. It is no small wonder why it leads to xenophobic hatred and is the breeder, rather than the solver, of conflicts.

Turning now to the economic case for national defence, this generally rests on the idea that, as the consumption of national defence is “non-rivalrous” and “non-excludable” that, left to the free market, it would be underprovided owing to a significant “free rider” problem. Without getting too much into why such concerns in and of themselves provide no justification for the state provision of a good or service, we can state more simply that it is only the precise methods of defence as chosen by the state that are non-rivalrous and non-excludable. An aircraft carrier serving A does not interfere with its services towards B, nor can its services be excluded from either one of those people. But there is no reason to suggest that aircraft carriers must be provided in order to maintain defence of one’s person and property, which is supposed to be the alleged purpose of national defence. Private defence operations may well produce methods of defence whose consumption is rivalrous and excludable – for example, more localised, specialised and heterogeneous defence methods specific to particular customers. The common fear concerning such methods of defence is that they will never be able to match the might and power of a foreign state – how can such scattered methods and apparent disorganisation provide any meaningful kind of protection? This fear is soon resolved by the realisation of several important points. First, weapons of enormous firepower – such as nuclear weapons – have only been developed by states because other states have done so. Nuclear weapons are not defensive weapons at all but, rather, weapons of mutually assured destruction. In particular, aggressors are usually not interested in reducing foreign territories to worthless rubble – they have their eyes on the economic resources that are available for exploitation within that territory. Indeed, a significant motivation for the US’s foreign aggression today is the control of resources in the Middle East (especially oil), camouflaged by an ideological veneer. If a stateless society was to abandon nuclear and other large, destructive weapons this would lessen the justification for foreign states spending their resources on them. This goes hand in hand with the second consideration which is that if, as we stated above, the state’s purpose in providing national defence is to protect its territorial integrity (and this is justified by the claim that it protects the persons and property of its citizens from invasion by foreign states), then if a particular foreign society is anarchical and has only scattered and allegedly ineffective private defence methods, what offensive threat does this pose to either the state or its citizens? Not only would the state have little internal impetus to maintain heavy defence spending but any attempt to cajole the citizenry to pay for it would be much harder as the state will lack the ability to construct a bogeyman. The so-called “War on Terror” and the threat of Islamic extremism does, of course, seem to negate this thesis as defence spending is ratcheted up against sub-state and not state actors. But there is a strong case to be argued that most of the threat from terrorism is as a result of the West’s own belligerence – in other words, terrorism is a defensive response rather than an offensive threat. Indeed, there will always be a handful of extremists, fundamentalists and radical nutcases in any society whether its statist, anarchist or whatever. What gives their ideas traction, however, and builds them up into a significant threat is that they become creditable in the eyes of other people – credit that the West seems all too willing to hand on a silver platter. In any case it is arguable that although the difficulty of eradicating terrorists permits the west to perpetuate a bogeyman, the “War on Terror” is becoming a harder sell as it seems as though any widespread, offensive capability of terrorists is limited. This leads to the third consideration which is that, while private defence may appear to be a hopeless offensive force, its effectives as a strictly defensive force comes not from its firepower which, collectively, may well fall short of that possessed by a state, but, rather, from the very fact that it is scattered and heterogenous. It is far easier for a foreign invader to take aim at a central command structure that possesses one train of thought, one or a few strategies, one chain of supply, and whose soldiers have all been trained in the same way and possess the same weapons. As the difficulty in combating guerrilla warfare can attest, it is far more difficult to overcome hundreds or thousands of localised strategies, different training, uncertain weaponry, and surprises round every corner. This effectiveness of private defence would be magnified if the entire economy is also decentralised. In modern states, entire communications and financial networks are centralised so that an invader only has to target the central hub in order to bring the entire country to its knees. How effective would it be, for example, for a foreign invader to knock out a country’s centralised banking system? Where all such services are provided privately, however, with no hierarchy of control springing from a common root, a single attack by the foreign invader is now multiplied into tens or even hundreds of separate attacks to take control of each and every individual, private network. The loss of a part of the banking industry to an aggressor would not necessarily cause the rest of the country to grind to a halt with the only option to yield to the invader’s might.

Just Wars

In spite of our negative conclusions concerning national defence, is it possible that there are any wars can be described as “just” and if what are the requirements for such justice?

It appears to be undisputed in the mainstream that World War II provides the hallmarks of a just war. Here there was a very belligerent and aggressive dictatorship that invaded foreign territories over which it had little (if any) claim, subjected their populations to extermination or slave labour and otherwise imposing upon them its odious method of government. Surely it was just for the allies to go to war against such a threat? Without having to examine the details of World War II specifically, we can see that the main problem with this line of thinking in the abstract is that it considers only states as the relevant players. The individuals within each state are practically ignored or are aggregated into collective wholes. The only relevant units in the analysis are whole countries and some countries are aggressive and nasty whereas others are peace-loving pacifists. If this was true and individual countries were individual people then World War II may come close to being a just war (although, as we shall see below, it would probably even fail if we made this assumption). However, all defensive actions of a state rely, for their funding, upon the taxation of individual citizens – the forced confiscation of their private property. This in and of itself is a rank injustice. What if the individual citizens do not want the money that they have earned legitimately and the government has not to pay for a war? They have had the very thing that national defence is supposed to protect – their private property – stolen from them. All state wars funded by taxation are, therefore, per se unjust, and this fact is true regardless of the nobility of the cause. Tax dollars can be spend on a multitude of good and wonderful things – schools, hospitals, roads, etc. – but this does not change the fact that the people forced to fund them would have preferred to have spent their money on something else. Hand in hand with this goes the possibility of conscription – the enslavement of the population into defending the country with their bodies as well as their wallets – and all of the other liberties that are suspended in war time, with the entire economy geared towards the war effort, as was the case in World War II. Moreover, what are we to make of the mass bombing of civilians, intentional or otherwise? The argument over who killed civilians first is irrelevant – the fact that it was perpetrated willingly by both sides indicates that they are both as bad as each other. And it was the allies who were responsible for what may be the worst of these atrocities – the incineration of tens of thousands of people at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. If a person robs me in the street am I entitled to fire a gun indiscriminately in his direction, killing tens of innocents going about their own business in order to apprehend the assailant? Am I entitled to state that my action was just as it stopped the evil thief and that everyone else who is now lying in pools of blood was just “collateral damage”? I would, quite, rightly be arrested and tried for murder. Such actions are no different in kind from civilian deaths during state warmongering. It also emphasises how little disregard states have for their populations when they are under threat – the persons and property of the individual people are not there to be protected but to be readily consumed or treated as cannon fodder, a wall of defence to protect the state.

Not only does all of this demonstrate the injustice of state perpetrated wars, but it highlights the fact that any consideration of history in terms of whole states, countries and nations will never be able to make an incisive ethical justification or criticism of past events. Although some may be worse than others, the basic truth is that all states are inherently unjust, resting upon a crumbling foundation of illegitimacy. Therefore it is impossible to categorise a war as just through such an approach. When we look at the players in World War II specifically it is difficult to see much of a distinct difference at all. The British were responsible for the imposition of the largest empire in human history. How was this much different from the German conquest of Eastern Europe? Germany’s pre-war attitude towards Britain and its empire was to regard the latter as a kindred, Aryan spirit and a model of ruthless empire-building to be followed and admired. Britain and the United States used concentration camps decades before the Nazis evolved them into death camps – and need we even mention the Russian gulags? Indeed the communist dictatorship of the Soviet Union, with its brutal political repression, does not have much to distinguish it from Nazi Germany – particularly if you were to be an unfortunate victim of one of these regimes. The Soviets had already completed much of their “Great Purge” of hundreds of thousands (at least) before German soldiers ever set foot on its soil. Further, such lack of ideological distinction between the state players in World War II reveals itself through the continuous switching of allegiances both before and after the war and the consequences of such switches. The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of 1939 initially sealed Germany and the USSR as allies, secretly carving up Eastern Europe between them. Indeed, the entire trigger of World War II – the German invasion of Poland – was matched by Stalin’s own invasion of that country only a few weeks later. Germany then invaded Russia in June 1941 and Russia became allied to the British and, later, the US. After the War, of course, the former friends fell out and the Cold War endured for another four decades. And perhaps the most sorry tale is the fact that having been “rescued” from Nazi oppression the whole of Eastern Europe – at the mere of stroke of a pen – was consigned to Soviet oppression. For the populations of Eastern Europe how different from being ruled by the Nazis was being ruled by the Soviets? Indeed the attempted justification of World War II and the emphasis of the horrors of Nazi Germany has conveniently overshadowed the atrocities of the post-war communist dictatorships in Eastern Europe. Overall, however, it is hard to see how such outcomes could result if there were genuine, rigorous ideological differences between the players in World War II.

What then is the criteria for a just war? In the first place we must dispense with the notion of “war” itself which is a term that applies to states. In a libertarian world, in which there are only individuals and groups of individuals co-operating voluntarily, there would be no “wars” in the sense in which we understand them. Therefore, the justification for any warfare-type action is exactly the same as the justification for any violent action between individuals in a libertarian society. We can list the criteria quite simply as we did in a previous essay, The Ethics of Interventionism. To relate these to war specifically the equivalent war-faring terminology has been inserted:

  • No person (“country”) has the right to initiate violence (“offensive action” or “invasion”) against any other person (“country”) in any circumstance;
  • Where a person is the victim of aggression (“invasion”) he has the right to defend himself;
  • Where a person attempts to defend himself he has no right to initiate violence against innocents (“civilians”) during the act of doing so, including their enforced participation (“conscription”) and causing “collateral damage”;
  • Where a person attempts to defend himself other people have no right to initiate violence against him in order to stop him from doing so (“neutrality”);
  • A person has the right to solicit, contract with or otherwise co-operate with third parties (“allies”) in ensuring his defence;
  • Third parties (“allies”), likewise, have the right to provide their funds and resources towards defence, either through a negotiated contract (“treaty”) or voluntarily;
  • Third parties providing defence services have no right to initiate force against innocents during the act of doing so; this includes forcing others to contribute towards the same and causing “collateral damage”;
  • Where a third party provides defence services it not may be forcibly stopped (“blockaded”) from doing so by others;
  • Whether the injured party or a third party should or should not act to defend the former against an act of aggression, or whether such an act of defence is a “good” or “bad” thing by some other moral standard may be debated; however, the conclusion may not be enforced violently on any party that is not committing an act of aggression.

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Towards a Universal Human Ethic

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The effort to establish an incontestable proof for libertarianism as a universal human ethic is an immense undertaking and one that (to avoid any possible false anticipation) will not be accomplished in this short essay. We can also suggest that even if a libertarian scholar was to arrive at such a thesis it is unlikely that he would attract the attention and rejuvenation of political philosophy that, say, John Rawls did upon publication of his A Theory of Justice, an inherently statist work that found natural admirers amongst those interested in promoting the cause of the state. In this essay we will outline some important considerations that may help towards establishing libertarianism as the universal, human ethic.

The first consideration, and one that the present author is yet to see in print, is why should the burden of proof be on libertarians to establish their case? Doubtless it is the task of those who posit a particular political or ethical theory to justify their propositions, but too often in this kind of debate, democratic government is seen to be the natural, neutral or perhaps “default” position, with libertarians striving to promote something new and exciting, like a novel invention or a method that must be proven to be right before we could possibly envisage accepting it (although it seems as though we are never allowed to have it tried and tested). However, the case is, arguably, the other way round. Liberty – the freedom of each individual as an independent moral agent free from interference – is the natural, default status of human beings, as will become clear from our analysis below. It requires only negative action on the part of every individual human – the abstinence from physical invasion of the person or property of another. Anything else, however, requires a positive, conscious choice to disturb this peaceful situation and to interfere, physically, with somebody else. Those proposing such a positive course of action should surely be required to prove their case ahead of those who argue for retention of the natural state of affairs? Indeed, the difficulty of establishing a case for libertarianism does not result in the case for government being any stronger and at the very least proponents of the latter should be prepared to justify their positions as well. Often in these debates the libertarian is presented with a smorgasbord of issues and is required to explain how each and every one of them would be dealt with in a libertarian society and produce a just outcome; for some reason, the slightest weakness, the slightest inability of the libertarian to explain how a single issue, however minor, would be handled better in a libertarian society is taken as conclusive proof that libertarianism must be discarded, regardless of the finesse of the argument before that point. This is nothing but intellectual sloth, or rather a preference to bask in the comfortable status quo rather than confront formidable questions. It may be difficult to argue for the rights to self-ownership and private property, but it is much more difficult to propose that a select few should be able to override self-ownership and private property; that a select few need not earn their living by serving others through voluntary trade but can, instead, confiscate it; that the select few can enact laws and edicts with no regard to any primary rationale whatsoever; that the select few can establish massive, compulsory monopolies over whole industries such as transport and healthcare; that this little elite can accumulate debt that exceeds the productive capacity of the planet; that it can spend this borrowed money on invading and bombing civilians in foreign countries in conflicts that are not its concern. This side of the debate cannot be ignored. Now, to be sure, not all statists agree that these are legitimate things for the government to do and would wilfully deplore them in concert with libertarians (although much of this would be a criticism of that which government does, as opposed to the libertarian view that opposes government per se). But this demonstrates that the status quo is not the default option and opponents of libertarianism must be prepared to establish their own philosophies as being superior to libertarianism rather than simply dismissing one that they do not share.

The second consideration, and one that has been raised in previous essays, is the presuppositions of those who attempt to promote ethical theories of society. The characteristic of humans that distinguishes them from animals or unconscious matter is that they make voluntary choices to devote means towards ends, rather than simply relying upon instinct or the inertia of other matter. These voluntary choices are the substance of moral enquiry – because of the fact of scarcity, humans must choose between competing ends to which means could be devoted. An ethical theory informs the human of which ends he should pursue and which he should not with the means available. Without voluntary choice arising from scarcity moral theories would be redundant – total abundance would mean that every end is already fulfilled and hence moral theories would have no information to provide, and without voluntary choice moral theories would have no effect upon an action because the individual cannot change its outcome. Thus any being that makes voluntary choices is deemed to be a moral agent – the being to whom a moral theory applies. A theory of intrapersonal morality would concern only how moral agents should make choices in relation to amoral agents – those who have no voluntary choice such as dead matter, or objects. The moral question is “what is a good thing for this person to do with this object?” and not “what is a good thing for this person and for this object?” There is no such thing as moral rights arising in the form of dead matter and any moral enquiry concerns wholly the best ends for this individual human to pursue vis-à-vis that matter. With interpersonal morality, however, the question changes as now we are concerned about what is good for one actor and what is good for another in their relations between them. An interpersonal ethical theory accounts for not only the best ends of the one actor but also those of the other; thus, there arises the language of reciprocal rights and obligations that we possess and owe, respectively, to each other. As we noted, the essence of being human is that voluntary choices are completed through actions which are physical manifestations, making physical changes to the matter that is in the world and that this is the criterion of moral agency. If one person’s voluntary action, therefore, physically restrains or interferes with the person or property of another then what is the result? What happens when one person uses force against the person or property of another? Simply that this latter person is now prevented from making voluntary choices that result in actions devoted towards ends that he desires. Rather, his action is now forcibly directed, like a mere object, to the fulfilment of the ends of another individual. He therefore loses his characteristic as a moral agent and, worse still, as a human being entirely. For the very characteristic that makes him human – voluntary choice – has now been denied to him. What follows, therefore, is that any ethical theory that relies upon the force may be a perfectly applicable ethical theory to the individual actor doing the forcing – it may be perfectly acceptable if it is presented as a theory of what this one person should, treating every other human in the world as mere objects for his use. But if it is presented as an ethical theory of society then something is surely amiss – for how can such a theory apply to a society of humans, who, by virtue of that definition, each have independent moral agency making voluntary actions motivated by voluntary choices, when the substance of that theory denies them this very characteristic? It is no answer to this charge that, as humans, we have a reciprocal obligation to submit to the force of a person who may be said to have the “right to force”. Such an obligation does not make sense because an obligation presupposes the voluntary choice to carry out the substance of that obligation. If one is forced, however, there is no obligation at all – like a tree blowing in the wind it simply happens. Furthermore, the threat of force resulting in seemingly voluntary compliance is indistinguishable from force because there is no genuine choice – the same outcome will always result regardless of the victim’s choice to either carry out the forced ends voluntarily or to submit to violence. Moreover, neither does so-called “democratic oversight” of the enforcers – through, say, popular elections of the government – make any difference. In the first place, the answer of democratic oversight to seemingly despotic and autocratic propositions is reminiscent of the response of the socialists to Mises’ theory of economic calculation under socialism – in order to try and get around a very real problem faced by their theory they have to make socialism look like a market through various contrived devices such as bureaucrats “playing” entrepreneurs with money bestowed on them by the state – which raises the question of why not just adopt the market anyway instead of an inferior version of it? In just the same way here democracy lends a veneer to tyrannous and collectivist theories in order to make them look more free so that people are really “volunteering” to government edicts – which equally raises the question of why just not adopt genuine liberty? Regardless of this, however, democracy does not convey any genuine voluntary control to the individual. Rather, it conveys it to a majority of individuals. Any ethical social theory legitimated by democracy is not, therefore, a genuine human ethic but rather an ethic of the majority. Anyone in the minority is still forcibly subjected to ends that they do not want. Furthermore, this control by the majority would only be present in direct democratic systems where you get to vote on every individual issue. However, in so-called representative democracy, the political system under which most of us are languishing in the world today, the majority merely chooses the decision makers out of a carefully screened list once every four or five years – and there is no compulsion upon these leaders to carry out their manifesto commitments or electoral promises. The majority may have chosen the leaders but there is no guarantee that they would voluntarily submit to that which these leaders would decide to do once in office. Neither also does the fact that the tyranny may be partial rather than absolute save any collectivist social theory. For example, the government may forcibly confiscate 40% of your income in taxes; 60% of it is still yours to do with what you like as a free and independent human being (subject to all the myriad of government restrictions and regulations, of course). More specifically, the government does not regulate when you make a cup of coffee, or go to the toilet, or watch the television, or do your laundry. In other words there is still a very significant part of our lives in which collectivist ethical theories still allow us to be independent moral agents. However, this is only because the government has decided to leave you alone in these activities. If I had a working horse and I let it wander to any corner of the paddock that it wanted, sleep when it wanted, drink water when it wanted, none of this would change the fact that the horse is still entirely mine to dispose of as I wish. Indeed I might only allow these unilateral actions on the part of the horse because it makes it more pliable to being forced to work at a later date. In the same vein, most collectivist theories, absent some vague or waffling commitment to “fairness”, “equality” and so on, do not posit the substantive choices that should be made under their aegis – they merely advocate the procedural, political set up for making them. There is no reason why, in principle, government could not confiscate all or a larger chunk of your income, or actually regulate how often you go to the toilet or what you decide to wear. The de facto result of democracy is that it has seemingly legitimated any action of the government whatsoever, with democratic governments having made far more inroads to personal liberty of which ancient monarchs could only have dreamed. Substantive freedom under collectivism is based more upon what the populace is willing to bear rather than anything inherent in the ethical theory that informs it.

This proposition – that any theory that does not permit complete individual freedom can never be a genuine human ethic and therefore is, by its own standards, contradictory is not, of course, a watertight theory. It would, for example, have nothing to say to a person who did not wish to present his theory as a social theory and only cares about subjecting other people to the ends that he desires – in other words, a tyrant in the extreme. And indeed, just as a horse may need to be cajoled in working for you, so too may the tyrant pay lip service to espousing an ethical theory of society that works for everyone in order to placate the population, whereas privately he has concluded that only his ends really matter1. Nevertheless, it is certainly an important realisation whenever confronting someone who proposes such a theory. For if he is proposing a genuine theory of society then his theory is contradictory. If he is not, then his tyranny is simply revealed for what it really is and his true ends, to subject everyone else to his desires, will be laid bare for all to see. It is not likely that response to such a theory would contain an overwhelming degree of enthusiasm.

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1This is arguably the shortcoming of Hans Hermann Hoppe’s argumentation ethics, which relies upon the premise that ethical propositions must be determined by argument. Does this bind the person who doesn’t argue, or playfully argues only to cajole or placate while having already unilaterally concluded ethical propositions in his own mind?

Austro-Libertarianism – Fighting for the Truth

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In the battle of ideologies, Austro-Libertarianism (that is, “Austrian” economics and libertarian political philosophy), in spite of (or, sometimes, perhaps because of) its logical consistency and rigorous passion for truth and justice, is lumbered with several burdens that are not always shared with opposing philosophies. Some of these – such as the fact that libertarianism is not a complete moral philosophy and can look, at best, cold and emotionless, or, at worst, a recipe for rampant selfishness and egotism – we have examined elsewhere. Let us explore a few more of them and suggest reasons for how they can be overcome, or at least mitigated as much as possible.

The Collectivist Mentality

Perhaps the biggest problem we face is that the fundamental tenets of the modern, democratic state are not viewed as being open to question. It is seen to be paradigmatic that democracy is the best system of government, that voting means freedom, that politicians serve their people and “the nation”. Whatever the current moral or political debate it is always seen as being a debate that should take place within the system rather that as an attempt to revolt against it. Indeed, in the history of political philosophy, consideration of alternative methods of rule has never been at the low that it is now whereas the possibility of no rule at all (anarchism) is completely off the radar. All alternatives to social democratic government are believed to be just baffling or bewildering, a mentality is reinforced and engrained by two aspects.

First, questions are always posed in the form of the collective and people are encouraged to debate only by thinking of the needs of the whole rather than of the individual parts that make up that whole. “Should Britain do X?” “Should we have nationalised railways?” “What should be done about our health service?” By not even allowing the possibility of individual tastes and desires to find expression, people are always geared towards the notion that there must, for every problem and issue, be a single solution that everyone must be made to endure. Although this is endemic throughout all political debates it can be seen in force in the current possibility (at the time of writing) that the United States will engage in military action against the Syrian government in response to the alleged use of chemical weaponry. “What should we do?” “The United States has a moral obligation…” “Our country will not waiver in its resolve” etc.

In what way can Austro-Libertarians face this challenge? The problem is that it is tempting to accept the terms of the argument and dive head first into discussing only collectives. In response to, for example, the question “should we have a nationalised health service?” a libertarian may find it difficult to prevent himself from crying “no!” and reeling off all manner of facts and  figures to show why a system of private healthcare would be far superior. Libertarians, however, must avoid this temptation entirely because it accepts, in principle, the notion that everyone must accept the same solution. It is also the expected answer from one’s ideological opponents and they are likely to be prepared with an array of counterarguments to nullify or at least blunt one’s own. Rather, an intelligent libertarian should attempt to change the terms of the debate and break out of the collective mentality altogether and focus on individuals. So in answer to the question concerning healthcare, one might retort the following:

“I have no problem whatsoever with the Government providing your healthcare through the National Health Service or whatever you want to call it. I don’t want to stop you from doing what you think is best for your needs with your money. But what right do you have to force me to do the same? I want to look after my healthcare needs in the way that I want with my own money. Do whatever you want with yours, just leave me out of it!”

This is a response that will almost certainly catch someone on the back foot. Having expected an argument about what is best for everyone and there being no possibility of “their” solution taking hold unless they win, they now, suddenly, have to face the fact that actually, they are most welcome to go ahead with what they want with the resources that they can muster. They just have to leave everyone who does not want to be a part of it alone. The terms of the debate have therefore switched from arguing about the merits of their system to arguing about why they should have the right to force everyone to become a part of it. That, they might find, is far harder for them to justify, especially once it is revealed that such a system as they advocate can only take place through the methods of violent enforcement. Liberals (in the modern sense of the word), lefties and collectivists do not like to think of themselves as being violent people and revealing them for what they are might be something of a shock.

Who Will Build the Roads?!

The second problem is related to the first and is manifest in the following types of argument. “How will we defend ourselves?” “Who will take care of disabled people?” “Won’t poor people die without nationalised healthcare?”  All forms of this argument may be summarised as the “Who will Build the Roads?” problem, where government has carried out a function for so long that people cannot imagine how else it would be done.

The obvious answer is, first, to point out how government has never invented or run anything that was not first done so by free individuals (except, perhaps, for nuclear weaponry – developing the machinery of mass killing is something that seem to come naturally to government). Knowledge of a few examples, such as how turnpikes were funded and constructed, and the history of the railways (and their subsequent deterioration under nationalisation) would be beneficial. But so too also is pointing out the fact that the opponent’s argument boils down to little more than this: “I don’t know how else X could be done. Therefore everyone else must be violently enforced to do it my way”. In other words, one should perhaps retort by questioning why that person’s lack of imagination means that everyone else must be subjected to violent enforcement. The whole point of the free market is that it unleashes the creative power of individuals and no one knows precisely what this creative power will produce and in what form. Government, on the other hand, causes nothing but stagnation in everything it runs. Schools, for example, are still teaching in the same way that they have done for nearly two centuries – a teacher in front of a class full of students, a method that seems to be rapidly failing as numeracy and literacy rates decline. Why is education stuck in a time warp whereas the free market around it is innovating and improving all of the time?

Nevertheless this may be a battle easily lost. There is a curious tendency in debates of this type for people to press one continually about how each and every minute issue would be resolved in a free society. Even if you bat away each one for six with success, as soon as there is something that you cannot explain, something to which you cannot illustrate a free market solution in any concrete fashion, however trivial and insignificant, you are expected to surrender and admit that government is necessary. Even if it is not possible to explain how a free society could possibly tackle one, single alleged problem, why is this one, minor “defect” claimed as a sweeping victory for government? Such a view is the result of the wilful (as opposed to merely passive) ignorance and closed-mindedness of one’s opponent and that is perhaps the hardest thing of all to overcome.

Market Chaos and the Fight for Resources

The next problem is the belief that individualism and freedom can only lead to chaos and collapse, a war of all against all in which everyone is motivated only by their greed in the fight for the scarce resources available. Surely there must be someone with their hands on the steering wheel to guide and take control, to steer everyone in the same direction, to ensure that free markets do not become over-zealous and drive us all to ruin? After all, everyone knows that the free market caused the Great Depression, right?

Apart from the usual explanations of how it was, in fact, government that causes economic crises and how it is government that causes the chaos of allocation through its inability to calculate, the more important and hard hitting retort to this accusation is to point out that freedom does not mean a lack of control at all. It simply means that individuals have control over their own lives as opposed to some central bureaucracy. Contrary to the opinions of even some free market proponents, there is nothing “spontaneous” or “disorderly” about freedom1. Rather every human action unfolds as the result of a purpose and desire and one is permitted to achieve these desires with one’s own person and property, and the person and property of those whom you can solicit to join, voluntarily, your enterprise. In this way the ends of everyone can be satisfied as far as they possibly can with the scarce resources available. Government, on the other hand, must always result in the substitution of one person’s or set of people’s purposes for everyone else’s, enforced by violence. Indeed, where someone says that government is needed to “steer us all in the same direction”, the very problem is what should that direction be? Nobody ever has precisely the same vision of how enforced collectivism should be implemented, nor of the goals that it should achieve. Ideological battles and physical wars have seldom been between liberty and collectivism but rather between different brands of collectivism. Fascists and communists, for instance, were pitted against each other in World War II even though they are both brands of totalitarian government. As Mises put it, an advocate of collectivism “always has in view his own brand of socialism” (Omnipotent Government, p. 253). It is government and collectivism, then, with its desire to forcibly direct everyone else’s person and property towards ends that they do not desire that causes chaos, conflict, and fighting. Further, if the market is motivated by greed, then what could be greedier than not only wanting to achieve your ends with your own property but with everyone else’s as well? And if everyone else refuses to play ball then you will fight them and force them to comply! At least a greedy free marketer has to stick to his own turf and needn’t have anything to do with you.

Economic Law and the Laws of Natural Sciences

Another problem is people’s perception of economic law as opposed to the laws of the natural sciences. Many of the latter are either immediately apparent, such as the law of gravity, or are accorded a high degree of respect when scientific research reveals them. Few feel that they have the ability to question the results that scientists produce, particular as we seem to live in a positivistic and evidence-obsessed culture. Economic law, however, is never accorded the same respect and for some reason it has always been believed, from eras of kings and conquerors through to prime ministers and presidents, that government can repeal and banish it through a simple decree.

If government attempted to legislate against the law of gravity – for instance, by demanding, that every object must be 2 feet from the ground – people would have little hesitation is declaring the politicians to be stark raving mad. Yet if the government attempts to alleviate shortages or unaffordability by enacting price controls, even though economists have, for generations, explained the necessary effects of such a measure, it is still believed that such an attempt is legitimate. The laws of economics are as scientific and true as the laws of the natural sciences. Only the precise conditions that bring them into play – that is the valuations of the individual humans and the uncertainty of future, natural events – are scientifically indeterminable. But so long as certain conditions are met, economic law cannot be counteracted. A reason for ignorance of this fact is that the ultimate causes of an economic distortion – human valuations and interference by government control – are difficult to link through to the result, except by a chain of deductive reasoning. Where prices rise for example, no one necessarily witnesses the increase in demand relative to supply (and no one witnesses the increase in the quantity of money that is brought about by government-controlled central and fractional reserve banking). All that it is seen is the numbers on the price tags getting higher, a fact that can easily be blamed on the greed of the merchant or trader. If subsequent price controls cause a shortage, again, the actual cause is not perceived. All that is seen is those same greedy merchants refusing to stock their shelves because now the price doesn’t allow them to “extract” a “huge profit”.

Part of this problem is also owing to a misunderstanding of the subject matter. The natural sciences deal with inanimate objects, i.e. their laws concern matter that feels no desires or purposes and is incapable of expressing choice. Hence the laws of the these sciences are seen to be immovable and true for all of time. Even if good or bad results follow from these laws one has to work with or around them rather than simply ignoring them. No one can, for example, simply dismiss the law of gravity or ignore air resistance if one wishes to fly. A bridge can only be built by understanding geometry and how loads affect various structures. Economics, however, concerns human choice and desire, something that may not only be impulsive and of the moment, but also has results – beneficial or bad – that are motivated and subject to influence and change. It is therefore perceived that economic law, dealing only with the supposedly wishy-washy vagaries of human desire rather than the concrete and immovable facts of the universe, can be overcome – by force if necessary. What is not realised is that economics does not deal with the substance of choices and resulting actions but with their form. Economics takes peoples choices and actions as a given, examining what must be true as a result in spite of their specific content. Its laws are universally valid even though certain choices may be necessary to demonstrate their effects (no could witness the interplay of supply and demand, for example, unless people were actually willing to trade).

Perhaps the epitome of this misunderstanding is that people even go as far as seeming to relax their awareness of the condition of scarcity. Government, in particular, is deemed to be an endless fountain of plenty that should forever be funding more or doing more to cure X, Y and Z. In citing various facts and statistics that demonstrate deficiencies and deplorable situations – “30% of people can’t afford to heat their homes!” “40% of people spend more than half their income on food!” “Child poverty afflicts a third of all families!” – all that our outraged social pioneers accomplish is pointing out the fact that we do not live in the Garden of Eden. Aside from not even entertaining the fact that freedom and lack of government is the path to prosperity, these busybodies have no proposal or specific method for determining precisely which needs are more pressing and must be resolved and which must be left to languish, however deplorable. All we get is that “something must be done!” a cry that will forever be heard until we live in the land of Cockaigne. An additional, exasperating cause of this is the incentive to engage in rent seeking behaviour. When government is sitting on a big pile of cash that could be spent on pretty much anything it wants, it becomes more economically viable for people to stop producing and to start demanding a share of the existing productivity. It is therefore not surprising that a whole host of problems and ills come crawling out of the woodwork when they can be solved, conveniently enough, by their sponsors and promoters receiving government money.

It is very difficult to overcome this mentality but there are some simple things that one can do to countenance this type of ignorance. If someone has difficulty in comprehending the validity of economic law, a basic way of shining some light on the truth is to point out the motivations of other parties in a situation – to put the person in the shoes of someone else. If, for example, the debate concerns price controls, persuade the person to appreciate the point of view of the seller as opposed to that of the buyer. What if he was in that situation and was suddenly told that he can’t sell an item for more than, say £10 each yet his costs are £15? In short, ask him, would you continue to sell in that situation? Secondly, where someone proposes a government measure to alleviate an alleged ill, ask for justification of why that problem deserves funding compared to others (having a few other of these problems at one’s finger tips may assist in this regard). As he is unlikely to be able to offer a definitive method of prioritising government spending, the answer will almost certainly dissolve into “raise taxes on the rich!” That will open the door to a wider discussion of the efficacy of government vs. the free market in creating wealth and vanishing problems such as poverty.

Truth and Lies

Perhaps the greatest intellectual difficulty that Austro-Libertarians face, however, is not the existing mentality of the people or their biases towards collectivist solutions. Rather, it is the fact that we are not always up against people who are interested in the truth. Government, relying on violence rather than entrepreneurial talent in order to attain its revenue, provides an easy and luxuriant income to hoards of individuals who would never have a hope of attaining that income on the free market. This is not to suggest, of course, that everyone who receives government funding is stupid and useless. In most cases it is simply the fact that their talents would not be in high demand on the free market. All human beings seek to further their ends and to make their lives more comfortable and rewarding through the means that are available. Economics frequently talks about how humans use objects as means to achieve their purposes, but so too can other humans be used as means. After all, why bother doing something for yourself if you can just order someone else to do what you want? Power, and the exercise of it, is therefore an extremely seductive potion, one that, once drunk, is very difficult to relinquish the effects of. But government has never survived on its own by simply crying “We are better for you!” “We are morally right!” etc. Rather, it has had to buy in other sectors of the population at large in order to retain its veneer of legitimacy. There are two of these that we shall mention here.

First, intellectuals are a prime category of those persons who are unlikely to obtain the income that they do on the free market. It is only through government funding and largesse that their theses and research papers would ever have a hope of being written. There is also, perhaps, the snobbish aspect that intellectual endeavour is somehow “above” the market and represents higher truth or something better than grubby trading (the same mentality one can often find pervading that other sink pit of government money, the arts). But that aside, when, for example, the majority of macroeconomic research is funded by the Federal Reserve, what likelihood is there that the budding and bright PhDs who can only find employment in one of these research programmes are going to churn out conclusions that are critical of central banking? Or when hoards of scientists are swept up by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) what chances are there that their conclusions will not invoke the need for more government control? This essay is not the place, of course, to determine the merits of specific scientific research. Rather, the point is that one has to be extremely suspicious of Government-funded programmes that conveniently either justify or warrant an increase in the size of government. But it is also true that some intellectuals themselves may wish to disingenuously cloak the truth in favour of a cherished political agenda – they simply believe that big government is a good thing. In any case, bringing on board seemingly impartial and objective intellectual justification for government is a massive boon.

Secondly, one might say that the population itself has been bought off. Democratic governments effectively bribe the citizenry with their own (or, rather, other people’s) money, not only by promising wonderful schools, hospitals, transport networks etc., but also by directly showering handouts from (and creating dependence upon) the ballooning welfare state, all conveniently paid for by taxing “the rich”. Even if one manages to resist the siren song of the former, it is very hard to denounce one’s receipt of a stream of free money. Given that there are so many people who are reliant upon government today it is difficult to envisage how one may even go about the practical operation of dismantling it, let alone attempting to convince people of the justification of such a move.

One cannot necessarily condemn individuals we have been discussing as being totally evil and immoral. If the livelihood of oneself and one’s family is reliant on, say, a tax credit or if one is in a government-funded job then it is understandable, if not forgivable, that people will tow the government line. But that only means that the exceptions, the ones who do not follow the Pied Piper’s tune, shine ever more brightly into the ether and it remains the fact that the justification of government is fundamentally nothing more than a charlatan operation. The supreme irony has to be that people are paying for the justification of their own enslavement.

It is very difficult to challenge this problem in the search for the truth. One could resort to challenging the credentials of one’s ideological opponents, but this can lead one down a dangerous path, resulting in ad hominem attacks and accusations of sour grapes. One should probably only restrict such observations to the most general terms, as we have done here, or at least ensuring that they only pepper solid arguments and counter-arguments that concern the specific issues. Instead, one can only countenance illusions and wizardry with one’s own solid passion for truth and justice, a reputation that one might have to earn through patient adherence to it. Lies and falsehoods will eventually be revealed for what they are. We, as Austro-Libertarians, know that government cannot ever achieve its promises, we know that it is a foregone certainty that it can never control the entire economy without collapsing, we know that it is immoral, violent and destructive. Everything that government does simply sows the seeds of its own doom. Perhaps we are starting to see the beginning of this at the time of writing, as Western populations, having been lied to once over the Iraq war, having seen the mess created in Afghanistan, and having grown ever more distrustful of the so-called “War on Terror” in general, are showing strong resistance to endorsing the US government’s desired attack on the Syrian regime that we mentioned above. Crucially, people are convinced that governments are lying about its supposed justification – “trust us” and “we know there is evidence” is no longer working. It may be only be a matter of time before this sentiment is linked towards the continued failure of government to find a way out of its self-induced economic malaise since 2008 and all of government’s chickens come home to roost. Who then, when all of the liars, conjurers and charmers have vanished will be left to pick up the pieces and who will people turn to for a way forward? Only those who all along remained steadfast to the truth and to what was right – the Austro-Libertarians.

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1As we have said elsewhere the notion of the market as a “spontaneous order” is metaphorical in only the very strictest sense.

The Limits of Libertarianism

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A distinct disadvantage of advocating a libertarian society as opposed to some sort of collective is that libertarians seldom win the emotional battle when pitted against competing ideologies. Democratic socialists and redistributionists can effectively wear their bleeding hearts on their sleeves, forever waxing lyrical about their concern for the poor, the sick, the elderly, and which ever other group appears to be in need of pitiful platitudes at this particular time. Libertarians, on the other hand, in calling for the right of every person to own his/her income, appear to advocate nothing more than greed and selfishness, the slippery slope to the disintegration of society as we each ferret ourselves away in an increasingly atomised existence.

This is a misunderstanding that is common not only among the opponents of libertarianism but also among libertarians themselves and it is high time that the latter stood up for themselves and realised how to counter these straw man attacks. Libertarianism is not and never has pretended to be a complete philosophy of how a given person should live his or her life. It is only states that each person should be given the freedom to choose what he does with his person or property. It does not mean that because an individual should have such a choice that he should keep his person and property for himself. One of the options is that he could, for example, give some of his money to the poor. It is, therefore, quite open to and consistent for the libertarian to state that a person should do X, Y or Z but that such a person should not be forced to do so. Simply because a person cannot be forced to do something does not mean that libertarians do not, individually, believe that people are subject to other moral obligations; it’s just that libertarianism itself stops short of discussing them. So as long as these obligations are not violently enforced then they are compatible with libertarianism, but do not form part of it.

Collectivism, however, is markedly different. For when collectives posit a certain forced redistribution of wealth and income amongst society this is usually based on an all-encompassing moral and political theory. So, for example, a collectivist might state not only that a person should donate a portion of his income to the poor but that also he should be forced to do so. It is this aspect that makes collectivists look more “caring” and “sensitive” to the needy – the fact that they are prepared to “enforce” their moral outlook seems to show they mean business. Libertarians, in contrast, come across as cold and uncaring, relying only on a vaguely defined notion of voluntary charity to take care of society’s ills.

There are three possible ways in which this may be countered. The first is to admit that libertarians are somewhat guilty of contributing to this view as few have developed an additional moral philosophy on top of their libertarian beliefs (although we can perhaps excuse ourselves given that the weight of government violence and intervention in today’s world is more than enough to be getting on with). But we must either turn our attention to developing our own, private, moral philosophies on which our passion for liberty forms the core, or, at the very least, we must be prepared to acknowledge the problem and explain the compatibility of any moral philosophy with libertarianism as long as it permits the individual to choose.

Secondly, contrary to popular opinion, the history of ideas has seldom been one of “liberty” vs. “collectivism”; rather it has been that of one version of collectivism versus another. As Mises pointed out, everyone has their own idea as to how they think goods and resources should be distributed throughout society: “In the eyes of Stalin, the Mensheviks and the Trotskyites are not socialists but traitors, and vice versa. The Marxians call the Nazis supporters of capitalism; the Nazis call the Marxians suporters of Jewish capital. If a man says socialism, or planning, he always has in view his own brand of socialism, his own plan. This planning does not in fact mean preparedness to coöperate peacefully. It means conflict”. (Omnipotent Government, p. 253). By pointing out this fact libertarians can demonstrate how, in a free world, everyone can pursue, in harmony, the ends that he believes are morally right with his own person and property, whereas to do so violently would just mean endless conflict with everyone else who happens not to share your view.

Thirdly, if a collectivist claims to care about the needy in society then we are entitled to ask why he favours a system that is almost guaranteed to make them worse off and why they oppose the very system – capitalism and freedom – that has been responsible for the most enormous increase in the standard of living in the whole of human history. Poverty is the state of nature of humans in the world; it is their ingenuity that has flourished through freedom that has allowed them to harness the powers of nature and increase the amount of wealth and satisfaction that we gain from them. If we compare the condition of human existence in 1800 (where 85% of the world’s population was living on $1 a day) to that of today (down to 20%) then we can see that freedom has been exceedingly good to the poor. Perhaps smart libertarians, accused of ignoring the plight of the needy, should raise this point and query whether, in fact, it is their ideological opponents who are really the ones who don’t care?

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The Scope of Moral Enquiry Part Three – The Ethics of Non-violence

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In parts one and two of this three part series we outlined the necessary conditions for morality to arise in the universe. We then proceeded to demonstrate how, in answer to conflicts that emerge from a condition of scarcity of means, morality, by the operation of logic, entails that each individual moral agent owns himself and can therefore be said to have self-ownership and the ownership of goods of which that person is the first user-occupier. From these rights we derive the non-aggression principle (NAP).

This third part of the series will explore the morality of non-violence. We will first consider the area of defence and enforcement which is the primary area that separates the NAP from other moral norms. We will then examine the widest implications of the NAP and demonstrate its ultimate justification, showing why some common objections to the NAP are groundless. We will then, in this light, examine the place of other moral norms and moral theories, concluding that these can only ever take effect non-violently. We will also suggest some non-violent remedies to situations which an individual may judge the behaviour of another to be immoral in spite of not violating the NAP. Finally we will speculate upon the content of non-violent norms that may emerge in a world in which the NAP is adhered to.

Defence and Enforcement

The crucial aspect of the NAP is that actions which violate it may themselves be repelled violently, i.e. physical defence may be used in order to enforce the NAP and to repel violent attack. We will demonstrate here why this is so and why such enforcement cannot be used for action that does not violate the NAP. We will not proceed with en elongated discussion of punishment, proportionality and nor also will we attempt to tortuously define defensive violence as somehow being “non-violent” or “reactionary violence” as opposed to “initiatory violence”. Rather, we must call a spade a spade and recognise defence for what it is – the initiation of the violent enforcement of one’s right to self-ownership, an act which does invade the self-ownership of the another person.

We will therefore confine ourselves to the simplest answer that if A attacks B, violating the latter’s right to self-ownership, then A has no grounds on which to demand that his own self-ownership be respected. For if he denies self-ownership to B then on what grounds can he reserve it for himself? In part two we noted how A cannot preserve self-ownership for himself and deny it to B; exactly the same principle is in operation here. A’s demonstrates through his act of violating B’s body that self-ownership does not exist. B may therefore repel A violently in order to assert his self-ownership without contradicting his claim to this right. It should be clear that B’s action can extend only so far as is necessary for enforcing his self-ownership. For if he proceeds beyond this point then he does so to a level where he is forcing A to meet B’s ends. For example, if A crosses the boundary of B’s property to punch him B can fight back to the point at which A is no longer violating B’s self-ownership. So if A is successfully returned to the confines of his own property, B cannot then proceed to grab a meat cleaver and run onto A’s property, chase him off that property and claim it for his own. B will likely, of course, assess the future threat from A as being heightened as a result of this experience and he is perfectly entitled to prepare additional defence mechanisms on his own property such as fences, locks or a security guard in addition to other non-violent remedies with which we shall deal below. It follows also that where A’s action is entirely non-violent and does not invade B in any way then A has given no denouncement to the right of self-ownership. B, therefore, has no right to violently cause A to do anything else.

We might also add that, as we explored in part two, a person who desires ownership of a good does so because he wishes to combine it with his labour to produce an end that is more valuable than the end that existed before. If he does not wish to carry out such a physical act then he simply regards the good as non-valuable and hence will make no claim of ownership. In other words, the concept of ownership is bound up integrally with physical occupation of the property. Any theory of ownership that did not grant a right to the owner the ability to sustain this physical occupation would be nonsensical.

The Character of Morality and the Ultimate Justification of Non-Violence

What has therefore been demonstrated thus far is that no person may violate the NAP and that such violations may be repelled physically by the violated party. This is a truth that is universal to all acting agents everywhere and anywhere (even, as we shall see below, in so-called “hard cases” or “lifeboat” situations).

In spite of the prolific nature of this truth it is, however, extremely important to realise its limitations. For while the NAP condemns all action that invades another individual’s person or property it does not, on the other hand, condone or morally sanctify all action that does not cause such a violation. Individuals have varying ends that they seek to meet and it does not follow simply that all action that is peaceful and voluntary should necessarily be tolerated, liked, welcomed, or embraced by anyone else. Indeed the NAP does not even say that all appropriation of previously ownerless matter is a good thing; it only says that it is not morally permissible to repel such action by the use of violence. These aspects we shall now explore in more detail by reference to a crucial element of morality – that it is a conflict solver between thinking, choosing and desiring beings. What will be demonstrated is that any moral theory that advocates violence completely obliterates this aspect and, hence, cannot properly be considered a moral theory at all.

We stated in part one that morality arises to resolve conflicts that emerge from a world of scarcity. For a human being to act, to express his choices motivated by his desires through action, is to discard lesser valued ends and to embrace more highly valued ends as a result of the scarcity of means. If we imagine a world without conflict between human beings then this entails each human being to feel the pain of intra-personal scarcity but not of interpersonal scarcity. Each human would use his own body and divest the goods which he came across as the first user-occupier from the ends which that human least desired to those that he desired more highly. But each human would do this in isolation – there would be no covetousness of other people’s bodies and the goods that other people have appropriated. Consequently, there would be no such thing as morality nor would its derivatives of rights and ownership arise as they would, in such a world, be utterly meaningless. Everyone would be a “self-owner” in a de facto sense but the concept would not be even considered de jure, its prescription serving no purpose at all1. Interpersonally, however, every human being has a choice as to how to behave in relation to the body or good of another – he can either not make another person’s body or good the object of his action, or he can make it the object of his action. There is no alternative. Or, to put it another way, a person must always act in relation to an object that another person deems himself to have appropriated or he must act in relation to matter that no other person deems himself to have appropriated2. Let us proceed to examine each of these two possibilities in detail.

If a person, A, chooses not to act in relation to a good that someone else, B, has first used or occupied then what can be deduced from such a choice? We could just stop short at saying, in a strict, praxeological sense, that A does not value this good. He does not care whether it is in its current state under B’s custody or in a different state and delivering a different end in his as there is no demonstrated preference through which to determine the contrary3 4. However, there is one more important aspect as well – that A has allowed B to retain full control of his actions, that is for the latter to bring his desires motivated by choices brought about by the necessity of scarcity into being through concrete action. We said in part one that the only agent that has moral responsibility and can therefore be said to behave either morally or immorally is one that possesses choice over its actions. Hence A, by not submitting B to violence and by not forcing the latter to do what A wants to do, permits B to retain the character of a moral agent. B remains morally responsible for his actions and such actions can, therefore, be examined through a moral lens. It therefore remains possible for A to criticise B’s action in regards to the latter’s person or property as being “immoral”, stating that B should have devoted the means that he owns to an end that A values more highly but B does not. This may be as simple as something as A having the opinion that B has too much money and should give some of it away to the poor. If B, free from violence and coercion, chooses not to so give then we can say that he has behaved either morally or immorally. We may conclude that he is selfish and evil, as A might, or that the alternative end to which he actually devoted the money was more morally justified than giving it to the poor. Alternatively B might, having been persuaded by A’s opinion, decide that yes, he should give some of his money to the poor and he proceeds to do this. What does this reveal? Once again, through voluntarily acting to set aside alternative ends to which the money could have been devoted, B expresses his highest preference, his most valuable outcome, to be that the poor should have his money. Any conflict over scarcity continues to be resolved as the highest ends of all parties expressed through action are in harmony. But also, as we are trying to stress here, because B has chosen this action, because it has not been enforced violently and he has not been made to do it, we can say that B behaved morally (or immorally if we think that there was a higher end to which his means could have been devoted).

What, however, happens in the latter situation, that is, where A chooses to act in relation to a good that B owns? Things are now markedly different. He acts because he values the good, he demonstrates through action that he wishes to devote it to an end that he, A, believes is more desirable than the end in which it is currently employed. But the problem is that B has also made the good the object of his action and he desires it to be in its current state (i.e. the state into which his (B’s) action put it) rather than the end to which A wishes to divert the good. The action of A is, therefore, the cause of what is now an interpersonal conflict of scarcity, a conflict manifest in the physical clash as both humans attempt to occupy the same piece of matter. In short, A behaves violently towards B. Let us say again that A wrestles from B money that the latter has and gives it to the poor. As A has not, in this situation, yielded to B’s self-ownership and B is not able to express his choice through action, B does not value A’s end of giving the money to the poor more highly than some other end. The result therefore is that the conflict isn’t resolved at all; rather it is actively provoked and sustained, the winner of the contest simply being who is the physically stronger. To state that it is “moral” for A to enforce “morality” – i.e. resolve a conflict over scarcity – of diverting money to the poor by a method – violence – that promotes conflict is an absurdity. For if B had desired to give his money to the poor then he would have done it voluntarily; there would have been no need for A to interject with force. The fact that force is used indicates that there is no resolution to conflicts at all – in B’s mind he would still prefer that he had his own money and so the highest valued ends of all parties are still disjointed. But there is an additional crucial aspect as well. For where B voluntarily gives or refuses to give money to the poor we can examine his action through a moral lens because he chose that action. But where he has not chosen an action – where he has been the victim of violence – then we cannot examine his action at all. In no way can we say that B, having had his money taken by A to be given to the poor, behaved morally, for he didn’t “behave” at all. He simply had to do what A told him to do and he had no choice in the matter. To subject someone to violence is, therefore, not to get them to behave morally; rather it is to completely deny them moral agency. People are treated no better than inanimate objects, like stones or water, subject to the laws of physics and the force initiated upon them by other people. Stating that B behaved morally when his money is taken to be given to the poor is to say that a knife behaves immorally when a person uses it to stab someone else, or that an apple behaves morally when someone gives it to me to eat. Indeed, to state that B behaves morally in this situation would require us to ascribe moral agency to every single inanimate object that happened to move. The only morality that can be questioned in such a case, therefore, is of A’s action not of B’s, and whether A is morally justified in using, forcibly, B’s person and property for ends that A deems as moral and proper and B does not5.

More emphatically, however, any moral theory that justifies the use of violence is not really a theory of moral behaviour at all – it is a theory of who should and who should not be a moral agent, of who should and who should be allowed to express their choices motivated by actions through desires and who should be relegated to the level of mere dead and unconscious matter. But to do this is to destroy the very reason for morality in the first place. As we explained in part one morality only arises in the universe because each of A and B are choosing, desiring, thinking, beings. If one of those two is demoted to the position of an inanimate object then there is no moral theory to speak of at all – either of the two that was the acting being would not be bound by interpersonal moral prescription because the other is simply not a person. In other words, to advocate that one is a moral agent and another is not means that one does not have to behave morally at all – another person can simply be used as ends for one’s own desires and purposes6. A person does not sit and talk to a potato explaining how it is moral and just for it to be eaten by that same person, nor does one try to rationally explain to one’s bed that it is good and proper for it to be slept in. So why does anyone who advocates violence bother to flesh out a moral theory in the first place? If other people are simply there to be used for the ends that you think are moral what is the point of reasoning this? To whom are you addressing your theory?

It might be objected that, rather than prescribing a blanket denial of a person’s moral agency, a moral theory will only specify certain situations in which that person may be subject to the violence of another; in other words a person can retain moral agency except in particular scenarios, some of which may have to be judged according to the facts. There are two problems with this. First, we are entitled to ask “what is the specific method for such adjudication of ‘the facts’ that will cause one party to retain moral agency and another to not do so and why is this method justified?” Secondly, the only reason why a moral theory would hold that a person is to be subjected to violence in one circumstance and not in another is because in the latter situation the person’s action is in accordance with the moral theory. It is still the case that the moral theory has attempted to prescribe my ends for me – just because I happen to agree with these ends and therefore proceed to do them voluntarily does not change the total infringement of my moral agency.

There are several crucial aspects, therefore, what we can summarise about the use of violence to enforce morality:

  • That an absence of violent actions means that each person’s highest end is met with the scarce means available to him; there is, therefore, no conflict of ends in a strict, praxeological sense;
  • To act in violation of the NAP does not resolve conflict; it simply enforces one person’s end on another person; the conflict is sustained and promoted, not resolved;
  • To subject someone to force is to deny them moral agency; in no way can the action of the violated party be subject to moral scrutiny;
  • That if one is to promote a theory of morality which states that morals can be enforced violently and hence deny moral agency then one has to explain why they need such a theory if the objects of their action are no better than dead, unconscious matter.

Government Action, Violent Enforcement of Morals and Common Objections to the NAP

In this light we must, therefore, proceed to examine all situations in which it is claimed that “morality” can be enforced violently. The prime subject of this examination is, of course, not the situation where A wants to take the property of B, but of all Government action. For while it is generally acknowledged that one person cannot simply take what another has or commit violence against another person, the mechanism of Government is still deemed to be the legitimate channel through which ends can be enforced violently (even though very few people recognise explicitly that violence is the necessary means of Government action).

Let us start with a simple, historical moral good – let’s say that a King believes that is a morally good thing for a subject to give a portion of his income to the King’s treasury so that the King can build a shrine such as a temple, church or pyramid. Or, to state the same more emphatically, the King believes that a subject should give some of his income to fund the shrine. He believes this because there is a scarcity of the means of achieving this end of building the shrine, in this case, money. If a subject gives his money voluntarily, with neither the application nor the threat of force, then what can be said about this? First, the subject, through such an action, demonstrates that the King having his income to build the shrine is the highest valued end to him. His action is therefore in harmony with the morals of the King and there is no conflict over the means that are the object of his action. But also, because he has chosen this course of action it can be said that he behaved morally – he exercised a choice over ends that was necessitated by the scarcity of means and this can be said to form an accord with the King’s moral proposition. But what if the subject does not wish to give a portion of his income to fund the King’s shrine and does not do so? The King might therefore say that he should force the subject to give up some of his wealth and the King, in turn, would spend it on constructing the shrine. But the result of this is entirely different. For now, the ends of all parties – the King and his subject – are not in harmony. The subject, deprived of his money, still does not want it to be given to the King. He may passively accept the outcome and realise that resistance is futile when faced with the sharp end of a sword; but it cannot be said that the conflict is resolved; if it had been then the subject would have acted voluntarily to give the money to the King. Indeed, he might actually be bitter and contemptuous and correspondingly less generous with his later, voluntary action. Indeed the subject may attempt to squirrel his funds away where they can’t be noticed and taken in the future, or his operations may vanish entirely underground if the confiscation becomes particularly onerous. More importantly, however, by inflicting force upon the subject the King cannot say that his subject behaved morally at all. The latter had no choice in the action of his money being transferred from him to the King and hence we cannot scrutinise such an action in relation to him. He was merely a tool, subject to the force that was applied to him; he displayed neither virtue nor vice, good nor evil, and can attract neither congratulation nor condemnation. But also, as the result of treating this man has rendered inert his moral agency, the relationship between him and the King is not one of a desiring, choosing, acting human being to another such human being; it is that of a piece of dead matter to a human, the King. But if this is so then there is no need for a moral theory at all as far as it concerns the subject. Why bother to construct a moral theory if this man is not a moral agent? If the man was a piece of dead matter, say an apple, and the King regarded it as good that he should eat the apple then the King would not construct a moral theory to say that the apple should “give itself” to him; the unconscious objects of one’s action are not subject to moral examination. The King will, of course, wrangle in his own mind as to whether he should devote the scarce resources at his disposal to acquiring the apple or to doing something else. But just as we said in part one there is no interpersonal moral consideration for his actions. There is nothing outside of himself and his own desires, choices and ends that tell him whether he should behave one way or the other because there is nothing outside of himself to instruct him so. For the King to subject another person to violence to achieve his ends is precisely to replicate this kind of relationship, that of human being to dead matter and hence the King’s attempts to justify his actions by reference to interpersonal morality are simply ridiculous. The end result, it should be clear, is that the King has simply substituted his own ends for those of his subject’s.

Let us now move on to a more contemporary example – that it is a moral good for the rich to help the poor, i.e. that a rich person should give some of his income to the poor. If the rich person does this voluntarily then he demonstrates that the poor having a portion of his income is the highest valued end to him. His action is therefore in harmony with the moral advocates and there is no conflict over the means that are the object of his action. But also, because he has chosen this it can be said that he behaved morally – he exercised a choice over ends that was necessitated by the scarcity of means and this can be said to form an accord with the moral proposition. But what if the rich person does not wish to give a portion of his income to the poor and does not do so? Our moral advocates therefore state that government should force him to give up some of his wealth and the government, in turn, gives it to the poor. But now, just as when the King forces his subject to give him a tribute to build a shrine, the ends of all parties are not in harmony. The rich man, deprived of his money, still does not want it to be given to the poor. Once again, just like the subject under the thumb of the King, the rich man may passively accept the outcome and realise that resistance is futile but it cannot be said that the conflict is resolved; if it had been he would have acted voluntarily to give the money to the poor. And, same again, he might actually be bitter and contemptuous and correspondingly less generous with his later, voluntary action. Whereas before he might have been persuaded to regard the genuine poor and needy as deserving and worthy of his attention, he might now, having been subjected to force, regard them as workshy layabouts. But again the more important consideration is that by subjecting the rich man to force we cannot say that he behaved morally. He had no choice in the action of his money being transferred from him to the poor and hence we cannot scrutinise such an action in relation to him. We can neither thank him nor criticise him for what he did because he didn’t actually do anything – he was simply made to hand over his money. And once again as the result of treating this man in such a way has rendered inert his moral agency, the relationship between him and the Government is not one of a desiring, choosing, acting human being to another such human being; it is simply that of a piece of dead matter to a human. And once again, no moral theory can arise from such a situation. Questions of morality can only arise from interpersonal conflicts of scarcity; but to treat someone like a non-person renders void and unnecessary these questions. The Government may justify its actions in its own mind just as any person might justify picking an apple off a tree to feed oneself. But there is no interpersonal, moral justification for these actions. If the apple had thoughts and feeling and desired to remain on the tree rather than be eaten we would say that the person, in plucking it from the tree and consuming it, has substituted his ends for those of the apple. This is precisely what the Government – or anyone – does when it violently wrestles money from another person.

It is in this light that we can comment on so-called “consequentialist” arguments against the NAP – that a strict adherence to the NAP could result in a worse set of consequences than a minor infringement. But the precise problem of morality is whose consequences should prevail – the only reason it arises is because one person wants to devote means to one set of ends and another person wishes to devote them to another set of ends. Any such measurement of “better” or “worse” ends is simply arbitrary as we cannot make interpersonal utility comparisons – we cannot say that one person values his ends “more” than another person values his own ends. But even if we could and we could say that one party values his ends less than another person does and the means to achieve them are wrestled from him, this would still be a loss to him that is not offset by any compensating gain to him. In his mind he loses outright – why should a “larger” gain to one, independent being justify violence that results in a “smaller” loss to another?

Indeed it is interesting to note that violence is universally (albeit only officially) condemned as immoral. Apart from the objective justification we offered for the NAP in part two, perhaps this is precisely because it is unconsciously realised that it reduces other human beings to mere unconscious objects. Other morals, however, are not so universal. One of the most interesting aspects of the history of ideology is that it is seldom one of “individualism” or “liberty” vs “collectivism”, but rather a history of one version of enforced collectivism versus another. Liberty always means the freedom of the individual to act how he chooses, whatever the substance of his choices may be and whatever the time and place. There are not different “versions” of liberty and any disagreements between libertarians, minarchists, anarchists, agorists, voluntaryists, etc. are generally theoretical debates over that which is an affront to liberty rather than over liberty per se7. However, when people advocate any form of violently enforced collective what they always mean is their version of the collective – that is how they want everybody else to behave, how they want to use everyone else and the product of everyone else’s labour for their ends8. But questions of “morality” arise precisely because people do not view the ends of others as being in harmony with their own. For if everyone believed in the supremacy of the Pope, or that the King’s bidding should be done, or in the führer prinzip, there would be no conflict over the scarcity of means. Everyone would willingly obey not because he was forced to abide by the rules of the collective but because he wanted to. Everyone’s highest valued ends would be in harmony with that of the collective and morality would serve no purpose in such a world as everyone would devote the scarce means available to the same ends, that of the collective. But because people do not value the ends of collective, because they have conflicting ends over which scarce means must be devoted, the moral dimension arises. To feel the need to justify ones version of collectivism morally is precisely because people do not agree with this version. To state that this version of collectivism should be enforced violently is simply to override everyone’s else’s ends and replace them with one’s own. This fact is not restricted to ancient battles between warring monarchs or religious sects; the very reason why we still persist with elections and debates is because the ends to which we should devote the scarce means available are not universally agreed upon. Majoritarianism is deemed to legitimate violent enforcement of ends, that is, that only the minority are treated as unconscious objects for the good of the majority. But the logic of all violently enforced collectivism is that one person, a king, president, emperor, sovereign, visionary or religious leader retains moral agency but everyone else is reduced to the level of unconscious matter. No two individuals will ever agree absolutely on every single issue unless they , quite literally, share the same mind and in every case, therefore, one person’s will must triumph over another. Democracy has simply the blurred the personalities at the top by making them interchangeable and endowing them with a veneer of legitimacy resulting from elections and constitutional arrangements such as the so-called “separation of powers”9.

This fact – that the violent enforcement of “morality” is simply substituting one person’s ends for another’s, preserving the moral agency of the violator and reducing the violated to the level of mere dead matter – must be applied not only to typical situations such as taxation and redistribution but also to seemingly “hard” cases or what are often called “lifeboat” situations. Indeed, a not uncommon response to the NAP is to demonstrate how its strict observance may lead to results that would be “worse” than the results that would follow from a comparatively “mild” contravention. A typical example is if one is faced with a choice of saving a greater number of lives at the expense of killing one innocent person. Surely it is better to kill one person than to allow so many innocents to die? The present author has dealt with this scenario in detail here but the main problem with this is the objective measurement of what is a “good” or “more desirable” outcome. Why should, in this case, the needs of more people trump that of one person? How can their desire to live be compared to his? What if they are all suicidal depressants whereas the one person has a great zest for life? Or what if they are all delinquent and unproductive layabouts whereas the individual innocent is a great pioneer and entrepreneur? Of what if the majority are evil dictators? Can we say in all of these cases that the majority should be favoured? But even if we could so measure, even if we could say that yes, these five people who will be saved want to live more than the single person wants to, the loss of the latter’s life is still a loss to him that is not offset by any compensating gain to him. Why should a “smaller” loss to him be trumped by a “larger” gain to others?

All of these difficult situations (such as a starving person taking some food that belongs to another person, the killing of innocents to eradicate or apprehend an assailant (colloquially known as “collateral damage”), or the forcing of a person to help a drowning child) have as a common feature the fact that one person or set of persons has a desire or a need that is met by the confiscation of the person or property of another10. Aside from the economic effects of granting rights to violate the NAP in such situations11, we must emphasise again that the problem with all objections to the NAP resting on consequentiality – the avoidance of bad consequences – is that morality is concerned with precisely whose consequences should take higher priority. Indeed all of these types of scenario tend focus on the apparent needs of the hungry, sick or drowning party and totally ignore the ends of the party who possesses the means. Why are his ends any more or less important than someone else’s? A mere assertion that is moral for one set of consequences to trump the other simply begs the question. But even if it is not possible to determine objectively which consequences are “better” by pondering hypothetical situations then is there an objectively identifiable method for determining which consequences should trump others in real situations? We’ve already explained that interpersonal utility comparisons cannot be made and that even if they could one still has to explain why a “small” loss to one is less important than a “larger” gain to another. If no such method exists then we must conclude that all infringements of the NAP are simply determined arbitrarily and are simply tantamount to one party being able – by force – to impose his ends on another party.

Indeed, there is a distinct emotional appeal about all such “lifeboat” situations – not only are they worded in such a way as to generate an emotional and empathetic response to the drowning baby, the starving child, or the sick old man, but interwoven is the widely held moral conviction that one should act to help one’s fellow human being. No doubt it is of a distinct advantage to the human race that we each possess the emotions of sympathy and empathy that urge us towards helping others, that we form emotive bonds of friendship and relationship that drive us towards selflessness rather than just trading under the division of labour and impassively procreating. But it does not follow from these things, however beneficial they may be, that people are endowed with violently enforceable rights and obligations to be helped, or to be sympathised with, or anything else. And even if we were to force a person to be the Good Samaritan we must conclude, in light of our analysis above, that this does not mean that he has behaved “morally” at all; for by being forced to help someone else he loses the character of a moral agent. One can only conclude that someone has behaved “morally” if he has chosen his action, otherwise he has simply been no different from a piece of unconscious matter.

The Non-Violent Enforcement of Morals

The foregoing analysis – stating that, even in the event of “lifeboat” situations, the NAP should not be violated – needs to be approached and understood with extreme caution. In the event that, for example, a person witnesses a drowning a child and he refuses to help that child, the fact that the NAP states that that individual cannot be forced to help that child does mean that it is a good thing that he does not help the child. Alternatively, if a person has mountains of food and a starving beggar on the verge of death appears at his door and is refused any food, we are not saying that such a refusal is a good thing. It is perfectly consistent to say that a person should do action X but should not be forced to so. And indeed, as we keep on stating, we can only say that such a person behaved morally or immorally as a result of his voluntary choice to do or refuse to do action X.

The confusion that is endemic through moral philosophy is the shared language of rights and obligations that flow from moral theories. There are two cardinal errors to which this leads. First, that it is almost always assumed that the possessor of a “right” can violently enforce that “right” against the person who holds the “obligation” should the latter refuse to do so voluntarily. But it does not follow simply from the fact that a moral theory posits that a person should or should not do something that such an act is violently enforceable. Indeed, as we pointed out above, there is simply no point to a moral theory if it results in violence as this simply eradicates the reason – the other party’s moral agency – for questions of morality to arise12. This language of rights and obligations posits an end state of the world – that if we say the poor have a right to a portion of the income of the rich and the poor then attain this money, there is no further moral advocacy as to what the poor should do with this money having received it (should they also give it away, for example?). A right loses its substance if it is not final or absolute. This leads to the second error which is that because a libertarian, or some other adherent of the NAP, states that a person has the “right” to the ownership of his own body and those goods of which he is the first user (or the first user’s successor in title to the goods through voluntary exchange), people assume from this language of rights and obligations that a libertarian believes that not only should the first user of a good have title of ownership to them but that also he should keep them for himself. This could not be more untrue. The whole point of granting someone ownership over goods is that they are free to dispose of them as they wish and this could include donating them to the poor. The key point that we are trying to explain in this essay it that is quite open to moral theories to posit that people have “rights” and “obligations” to do whatever with their property – all that libertarianism and adherence to the NAP states is that these moral actions must be voluntary and not enforced violently. Within that sphere of violence anyone is most welcome to develop any moral theory they wish and to make it as persuasive and endemic as he pleases. He just cannot force people to adhere to the ends of his moral prescription13.

Therefore, any moral theory that talks of rights and obligations that breach the NAP is not only invalid but rather, it is no moral theory at all. Moral theories can only arise between thinking, acting and choosing beings and to deny a person these qualities through violence is to render inert the need for a moral theory. All language of rights and obligations must be adhered to and enforced not through violent means but through non-violent means.

Does this understanding, then, run us into a brick wall – that if someone can be said to have a moral right or a moral obligation and if these cannot be enforced violently, then aren’t they useless? What is the point of having a right if you can’t make he who has the obligation fulfil the substance of that right? Not at all, for there is no prescription at all in the NAP against using non-violent enforcement, enforcement that preserves the moral agency of another individual. In other words, to influence another’s behaviour by exercising one’s right to self-ownership and to ownership of the property that one possesses in accordance with the NAP14. For example, as we have been indicating throughout, oral persuasion and conversation is one of the simplest of these methods – that you can bring a person round to believing that he should act in accordance with the ends that you believe to be moral. In short, he comes to value the same ends as you with the scarce means at his disposal. Only then, as we elaborated above, can we judge his behaviour as being moral or immoral. Another example may be of the “lifeboat” variety – suppose that an individual, A, witnesses another person, B, walking idly by a drowning child of whom B is aware; B does nothing to help and the child drowns. A may use his empathetic understanding of the situation to judge the child’s need of B’s means to help as being more pressing than B’s needs and that, consequently, B should have helped. A does not have the right to force B to act; there is no standard of proof that permits him to force, violently, his interpretation of the situation upon B. But A can, however, act in accordance with the NAP as a result of B’s behaviour. He might boycott B and refuse association with him; secondly, he might publicise B’s deliberate inaction so that other people may decide to refuse to associate with him. Such action does not rob B of anything that he values as such, but it does narrow the scope of his potential future action if people refuse to trade with him. Indeed, threats by A of such non-violent actions may cause B to help the child to avoid their consequences. Of course, other people, say C, D and E, may judge the situation differently and conclude that B could not have helped the child or there was indeed a more pressing end that B had to devote his means to as opposed to the end of saving the child, however tragic the latter situation might have been. Under these circumstances C, D and E might be perfectly happy to continue association with D or may publicly congratulate him for his choice. Non-violent enforcement of one’s moral beliefs therefore permits an individual to express his own values, to divert his means to the highest valued ends as he appraises them without forcing others to adhere to them. Hence, other are given the opportunity to voluntarily act in accordance with your values, but they may disagree. Only by acting non-violently is it possible for everyone’s values to express themselves, for the scarce means available to be devoted to their highest valued ends, without conflict.

Conversely, while, in accordance with the NAP, another person cannot force you to adhere to his moral sentiments, it does not follow that this person should, in turn, be forced to celebrate or condone your moral choices with his own person and property. If A is homosexual and B believes homosexuality to be immoral then B is not entitled to violently force A to refrain from homosexual acts. A is entitled to remain unmolested and free to use his property and person as he sees fit. But it does not mean that A can force B to associate with him in spite of his homosexuality. B has to tolerate the existence of A’s homosexuality but B cannot be forced to use his own property and person to further the ends of A’s homosexual lifestyle. So if (to take an example of a real conflict) B is a Christian guest house owner and A wishes to stay at B’s guest house with his same-sex partner, then B is quite within his rights to turn A and his partner away. B’s beliefs may be bigoted and ignorant, but he cannot be forced to adhere to the alternative. The guest house is B’s property and he is, by virtue of his position as the first owner or his voluntary successor in title, permitted to dispose of that property as he sees fit. If A could force a relationship of trade upon B, i.e. force an association, then that is tantamount to the enslavement of B for A’s ends15.

Might it be objected that, in certain cases, there is too much of a fine line between aggression and non-aggression? While a case of a man punching another in the face is clearly an act of aggression (unless the act was one of self-defence) and merely quietly telling him to go away is not, are there not at least some difficult cases where we cannot tell whether the act is aggressive or not? Talking to a person is not aggressive but would blasting loud music at his property from your own property not be so? Both amount to the same thing – the initiation of sound waves from one person’s property to another. Yet it would be difficult to suggest that the former case was an act of aggression and to argue the opposite. What is the cut-off point? Is there a certain measure of sound waves one side of which may be said to be aggressive and the other side of which may be said to non-aggressive? This is an issue that will be dealt with in a later essay on a libertarian legal system. Suffice it to say for the moment, however, that it is important not to confuse the validity of a principle with the determination of whether such a principle should be applied according to the facts. To take another example, we can assert that, in accordance with the non-aggression principle, that a valid contract is one where the parties each voluntarily agree to transfer title to property. This voluntary arrangement is entirely in their heads – only they know whether or not they actually intend to transfer title. Yet the resulting rights to the transferred property need to be publically agreed and acknowledged, for not only do people need to know whether a piece is property is in fact owned they also need to know by whom it is owned if they too wish to make an offer of trade at a later time16. It is not, therefore, enough that two parties to a contract intended within their own minds to exchange titles to property; rather they must have held themselves out as intending to do so. In other words, their actions must demonstrate objectively that they held the intention to transfer. Precisely which actions are necessary to demonstrate this intention will, as will be shown in the later essay on legal systems, be a matter for local custom, convention, and ultimately for competing dispute settlement services such as privately competing arbitrators and courts. Exactly the same will apply in determining precisely where and in which situations the NAP is violated. Remember that morality arises as a result of conflicts that are generated from the fact of scarcity, but this scarcity exists not in the condition of physical matter per se, but in the minds of the acting individuals. One therefore has to look not to the precise and minute arrangements of physical matter down to the atomic level but to the actions of the individuals involved in seeking to use matter to value their ends. Only their actions will reveal if there was in fact a conflict and it would be up for private libertarian legal systems to judge whether, on these facts, there was a violation of the NAP. Complex examples of these types of situation will be examined and explained in the future essay on libertarian legal systems.

The Morals of a Libertarian Society

It is often asserted that a pure free market or, rather, what we would call a society that acts entirely in accordance with the NAP, would engender nothing but selfishness and self-centredness, everyone seeking to maximise his own, personal gain without uttering a thought or care for anyone else. Alternatively, given that libertarians consistently argue for the legalisation of recreational drug use, one might think that we’ll just descend into a race of putrefying pot smokers. It is highly unlikely, however, that these would be the moral creeds that would flourish in a free society. We must recognise, of course, that no one can be violently prevented from doing whatever it is that they want so long as it does not inflict violence against another person or his property. But the institution of private property itself engenders a certain body of moral attitudes that are contrary to selfishness and laziness. In a free society one can only gain wealth by free exchange and one can only participate in free exchange if one is able to serve the needs of consumers. This alone, of course, requires that one benefit one’s fellow human. But it also requires several other qualities – empathy and understanding; patience, prudence and foresight; and the propensity to save and invest rather than consume and waste. Wealth will accumulate to all of those who possess these abilities and hence these are the qualities that will be encouraged. Furthermore, such people who accumulate wealth by serving their fellow humans will be more able to support and raise a family. To the extent that such qualities as we just outlined are genetically inherited then these are precisely the qualities that will be promoted in the human race. And even if they are not then parental guidance is more likely to encourage them than not – how many successful entrepreneurs would be happy to leave the fruits of their life’s work to a lazy, wasteful and selfish child? People are, therefore, most welcome to sit around and smoke pot all day and people may well set up different communities that adhere to values other than those that we just outlined. But we have to wonder from precisely where their resources for doing so will come and such activities will, therefore, remain relatively fringe.

Moreover, without the support of any violently funded social safety net in the event of illness and unemployment, the cultivation of the institutions of kinship, friendship and community becomes much more important to each individual. The free market is forever being criticised for destroying the traditional family and for squirreling away individuals into an increasingly atomised existence. However, these are the effects not of the free market but of the welfare state; for when the Government is there to give you a helping hand when you need it these traditional institutions become less important. Indeed the very operation of the welfare state destroys any personal contact between donor and recipient and no welfare is dependent upon one’s love, trust, respect for the other so these qualities, together with any empathy and sympathy, will simply vanish and, as we noted above, are more likely to be replaced by bitterness and resentment. Finally we might also add that the hitherto most productive and relatively free period of human history – the nineteenth to early twentieth centuries – was the cradle of not only the formal, charitable organisation such as The Salvation Army, the YMCA, the Scout Movement, The Rotary Club, etc. but also of mutual and self-help entities.

In terms of the morals that will be promoted in a free society, therefore, far from advocating selfishness and idleness such a society will prove to be a relatively “conservative” and “charitable” one; conservative not in the sense of preserving the wealth and status of the existing elite or aristocracy but in the particular social morals that are, today, associated with that movement.

Conclusion

What has therefore been revealed in this three-part survey is, specifically, the scope of moral enquiry, an enquiry that can be restricted to only a specific set of circumstances that exist in the universe. To address situations where these circumstances are not present with reference to morality is an error. In summary:

  • Questions of morality arise between beings that choose to devote means through actions towards ends, as a result of an interpersonal conflict generated by the scarcity of means;
  • That each of these beings has the right to self-ownership and the right to the goods of which he is the first user-occupier; these rights are violently enforceable;
  • That a person’s action can only be examined by reference to morality if that action has been chosen voluntarily;
  • That to enforce “moral” ends violently upon another moral agent or his property is not only to replace that agent’s ends for one own ends but to destroy his character as a moral agent; hence, to advocate such action by reference to a moral theory is incongruous and absurd;
  • Consequently, “moral” ends can only be enforced by non-violent methods;
  • That a society that respects the NAP will, while not violently enforcing any moral standards, will most likely nurture the ends of family, friendship, kinship, and relatively “conservative” social morals.

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1There would also be no exchange and therefore no division of labour as exchange presupposes one’s right over the objects that are offered in exchange together with the rights of another over the goods that one wishes to acquire.

2We highlighted in part two how this is determined by the minds of the acting individuals. Two people, for example, can each sit on a park bench and the latecomer of the two may, by external observation, appear to appropriate the goods that were occupied by the earlier occupier. However, this may not be the case in the mind of the latter and his ends may be delivered in full by his occupation of only one half of the bench on which he is actually sitting, with the occupation of the other half being inconsequential to him.

3We have already examined in part two how B’s original possession gives rise to no dispute with any other human being as all of the rest of the world have demonstrated, through their absence of action in relation to the good, that it is valueless. B’s original act of appropriation therefore yielded no moral conundrum and there is nothing, short of the intrapersonal conflicts he feels over which ends to pursue with the means available to him, that informed him whether he should appropriate the good or should not.

4Another possibility is that A does value the good and would very much like to have it, except that he doesn’t make it the object of his action as he ranks the value of having the good as lower than the act of resisting the urge to appropriate it from B’s hands. In short, while he would gladly have it, he recognises B’s moral claim to the good resulting from the latter’s self-ownership, from which in turn is derived the NAP. This is not in and of itself a justification for the NAP as it would simply beg the question but it is illustrative of how adherence to the NAP avoids conflicts and physical clashes.

5It should already be clear that the net effect of using force simply allows one person to achieve his ends at the expense of another person, the latter reduced to a mere unconscious, unthinking, inanimate object.

6Furthermore, any theory that permits violence runs into a distinct epistemological problem – how do we know who should be the moral agents and who should not be? Who should be the choosers and doers and who should be no more important than rocks and sticks? But to merely pose this questions is to run into the same problem as posing the question “should I own my own body?” that we examined in part two.

7Minarchists, for example, see a minimal state as being necessary for the preservation of liberty whereas anarchists believe that even a minimal state is anti-libertarian; some schools of left-libertarianism believe that private property is oppressive whereas Rothbardians would hold it as the foundation of freedom.

8As Mises puts it: “The unanimous approval of planning by our contemporaries is only apparent. The supporters of planning disagree with regard to their plans. They agree only in the refutation of the plans brought forward by other people. Many popular fallacies concerning socialism are due to the mis­taken belief that all friends of socialism advocate the same system. On the contrary, every socialist wants his own socialism, not the other fellow’s. He disputes the other socialists’ right to call them­selves socialists. In the eyes of Stalin the Mensheviks and the Trotskyists are not socialists but traitors, and vice versa. The Marxians call the Nazis supporters of capitalism; the Nazis call the Marxians supporters of Jewish capital. If a man says socialism, or planning, he always has in view his own brand of socialism, his own plan. Thus planning does not in fact mean preparedness to coöperate peacefully. It means conflict.” Ludwig von Mises, Omnipotent Government – The Rise of the Total State and Total War, pp 252-3.

9Nevertheless even as we progress further upwards of the food chain in, say, a parliamentary democracy we can see the exclusion of further individuals from the sphere of moral agency until you are left with just the will of a single person or a bare handful of individuals. The populace votes for “representatives” to enforce violence in their “interests” once every four or five years; the representatives with the largest majority in parliament usually form a government but only selected representatives are called upon to serve as ministers of the executive; this selection is normally chosen by the Prime Minister and will be made in line with his appraisal of the candidate’s ability to serve the Prime Minister’s political and legislative ends. Generally speaking, therefore, while he remains in office the Prime Minister will hold most of the power, perhaps also with a handful of the other top ministers.

10In all of these cases it should be added, incidentally, that those who advocate “minor” violations do not usually mean that the party in need should directly take the property he desires but rather that the government will take it and then use it to fulfil the so-called need. The ability of government to do this in the most efficient manner is, of course, an important but separate issue.

11If A is, say, granted the right to the food of B when A is hungry then the benefit to A of producing food himself is lowered while the benefit of being hungry is raised (as it is met with the reward of free food); the benefit of B to producing food is lowered as it will be confiscated from him when someone else needs it. The overall result is more hunger and less food with which to end it.

12We might also point out that there is no end to the number of contradictions in the violent enforcement of moral taboos and vices. Recreational drugs are almost always banned, but tobacco, in spite of repeated Government incursions into the freedom to use them, is not. One is not allowed to drive under the age of seventeen but when it comes to granting sexual consent one only has to be sixteen (and after having had the ability to drive all over the country and having had all manner of depraved sex as he has stamina for a person must still wait a further year until he is eighteen – or a further four years until he is twenty-one – to purchase his first drop of alcohol.

13It will help, then, to further clarify some terminology of rights and obligations in order to resolve conceptual confusion:

Self-ownership         The right to physically control one’s body; violently enforceable;

Ownership               The right to control the physical goods of which a person is the first user, or those goods acquired through voluntary trade; violently enforceable;

Property                 A good in which one has ownership; alternatively, the term is interchangeable with ownership;

Moral Right              The possessor of a moral benefit resulting from a moral theory; not violently enforceable;

Moral Obligation       The possessor of a moral burden resulting from a moral theory; not violently enforceable and compliance with the moral theory must be voluntary.

14The very word “enforcement” sounds like a misnomer as it contains the very paragon of violence – force. This has been part of the stem of confusion that has surrounded the language of rights and obligations.

15One might point out, however, that the free market in fact provides a powerful incentive against such discrimination. For while it is true that the free market does not ban any discriminatory acts it does, however, impose a penalty upon them. For example, a racist, anti-black employer has to choose between a candidate for employment who is black and another who is white. If the white candidate is genuinely the best for the job and is hired then the employer’s racism is inconsequential; if, however, the black man is the best for the job but the employer hires the white man anyway then the employer has not hired the best person. The white man will be less productive and learn less revenue than the black man, who will now take his talent and offer it to a competitor. The employer’s enterprise will therefore be staffed with racially identical but less competent staff and will simply be less able to serve the needs of customers. The employer therefore has to balance his racism against the loss of revenue incurred by maintaining an all-white workforce. As the division of labour increases and the structure of production involves so many more layers and geographical locations, trade becomes increasingly less personal and the specific characteristics of a particular person in the chain of production become less important (if ever they were important) to the consumer. As a result, discriminatory practices in the business are simply a short cut to loss of revenue and bankruptcy.

16It is for this reason that the term “private property” is something of a misnomer; for in order for a piece of private property to be respected knowledge of one’s title to it must be publically disseminated. Private ownership of property is more accurate.

The Scourge of the Collective

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By the far the most significant error with any political, social, economic or philosophical discourse today is that all questions, issues and problems are posed by starting not from the individual but from the collective as the most significant unit in the discussion. Time and again, even among liberal and libertarian circles, hot topics are posed as any of the following: “Should we do V?”; “Should society allow X?”; “Should the Government intervene in Y”? “Should everyone be forced to do Z?”

Such a way of tackling these problems assumes that there must be an answer that is applicable to everyone. That, for everyone, either one of A or B must apply but individuals (those selfish, unfeeling, heartless and greedy morons whose interests must always be subjugated by the “good of the people”) are never able to choose which one of those they might prefer. Indeed, for libertarians and liberals to accept the false dilemma by entering these discussions results in them conceding the basic assumption of the statist opposition, that is that the individual is subordinate to the collective.

Here are some common examples. Please note that the discussion of each is not intended to resolve the issue at hand, merely to demonstrate the correct way of posing the question.

1. Should we intervene in other countries’ affairs?

Anyone attempting to answer this question is invited to argue, in the face of brutal oppression or of invasions of countries elsewhere, that either everyone must be forced to pay for or participate in “our” intervention or everyone must not. In short, a more honest way of stating the question is “should the Government confiscate the fruits of our productivity (i.e. tax) us to pay for military aggrandizement abroad?”

But why should we all have to intervene or all not have to intervene via the Government? If I believe so strongly that the aggressive violence on the part of state leaders or armies overseas is so unjust and must be repelled then what is stopping me from sending my financial help with money that I have earned to this cause? Indeed, what is stopping me from resigning from my current life and flying out to act as a freedom fighter in defence of the helpless civilians? On the other hand, if I believe that whatever is going on abroad is none of my business or I have (in my view) much greater pre-occupations at home and that my financial resources are best devoted to these why should I be taxed to fund a cause that others find important but I do not? What right does anyone else have to money that I have earned but they have not? Further, actions always speak louder than words. If you believe so strongly in something then you should be able to put your own money where your mouth is. If you are only willing to do so with other people’s money then perhaps it isn’t that much of a just cause after all?

In short, the problem should be discussed as follows. If the individual wants to support a cause abroad should he be prevented from doing so if it inflicts no violence or aggression on any other individual? If he does not wish to support such a cause then should he be forced to do so when his antipathy is similarly free of violence and aggression?

2. Should we allow the buying and selling of organs?

Again, the question is not “should we permit or ban the trade of organs?” It’s “should I be prevented or permitted by you from trading what is a part of my person or property with another individual on terms agreeable to ourselves that inflicts no violence or aggression on anyone else?” Answers on either side must therefore be directed to the question of what justifies one individual or group of individuals being able to violently enforce their point of view on others who do not share this point of view.

3. Should we regulate industry X?

The story is always the same. Something terrible happens, a plane crash, a building falls down, or someone loses their life savings through the collapse of some hair brained investment scheme. The clamour is always for us to regulate more, usually in the name of safety, to prevent such disastrous consequences from ever happening again. In practice what this means is that the Government should be permitted to tax all of us in order to more closely supervise industry X, industry X being whichever industry is deemed to have caused the unfortunate event.

As tempting as it is to launch into a discussion of the fact that regulation itself consumes valuable resources and hence is also a part of the market process, plus that regulations are often the very cause of the problems that they seek to ameliorate (or at least the existing regulations fail to detect problems that should have been obvious within their existing scope – Bernie Madoff for instance), we shall stick to the problem of how these questions should be posed correctly. If I think that industry X should be regulated then why can’t I pay, with my own resources, a consumer watchdog to keep an eye on industry X and report to me any potential problems? Or, as would more likely be the case, why do I not just refuse to purchase products from industry X and insist that, before I return as a paying customer, they must conform to the standards laid out by regulator Y? (Underwriters Laboratories is a good example of this arrangement). Should my desire to see industry X regulated allow me to command the resources of people who wish to have nothing to do with industry X, or are happy to accept its products unregulated at the price for which they are on offer?

4. Should we ban smoking in public places?

The loaded phrase in this question is “public places”, a good definition of which is as follows:

“Generally an indoor or outdoor area, whether privately or publicly owned, to which the public have access by right or by invitation, expressed or implied, whether by payment of money or not, but not a place when used exclusively by one or more individuals for a private gathering or other personal purpose.”

The problem is that most premises that are within the scope of this definition of “public place” in various pieces of legislation are not places that are paid for and maintained by public money (taxes). They are privately owned and operated places to which members of the public usually do not possess a right to enter but rather are invited to do so in order to carry out trade. Shops, bars, restaurants, gyms, etc. are all good examples of this kind of premises that are categorised as a “public place”. No one is forced to enter these places, to purchase products that are sold there or to pay for their upkeep. In short all activity that goes on there is entirely voluntary.

The question, therefore, is not whether “we” should ban smoking in “public places”. It is “should I, as an owner of private premises into which the public are invited, be forced by you and others to allow or prevent my invited visitors from smoking when you have no obligation to enter, pay for or maintain these premises?” Alternatively “why if I prefer or prefer not to smoke when I am an invited visitor to certain premises should I be not able to find premises that suit my desire accordingly when you need not enter, pay for or maintain these premises?”

In conclusion, the common element running through all of these questions is the absence of violence and aggression involved in the acts concerned. In short all of the questions can be posed as “Should X prevent Y from doing activity Z when Y carrying out activity Z inflicts no violence or aggression on X?” Posing the questions in this way strips naked all collective thinking and exposes it for what it really is: the violent enforcement of the values, tastes and morals of some people upon people who do not share the same.

Finally, the words of Ludwig von Mises in these regards are instructive:

Individual man is born into a socially organized environment. In this sense alone we may accept the saying that society is-logically or historically-antecedent to the individual. In every other sense this dictum is either empty or nonsensical. The individual lives and acts within society. But society is nothing but the combination of individuals for cooperative effort. It exists nowhere else than in the actions of individual men. It is a delusion to search for it outside the actions of individuals. To speak of a society’s autonomous and independent existence, of its life, its soul, and its actions is a metaphor which can easily lead to crass errors.

The questions whether society or the individual is to be considered as the uitimate end, and whether the interests of society should be subordinated to those of the individuals or the interests of the individuals to those of society are fruitless. Action is always action of individual men. The social or societal element is a certain orientation of the actions of individual men. The category end makes sense only when applied to action. Theology and the metaphysics of history may discuss the ends of society and the designs which God wants to realize with regard to society in the same way in which they discuss the purpose of all other parts of the created universe. For science, which is inseparable from reason, a tool manifestly unfit for the treatment of such problems, it would be hopeless to embark upon speculations concerning these matters. (Human Action, Scholars Edition, p. 143)

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