Category Archive: Justice
Comments Off on Cutting legal immigration won’t help low-skilled American workers
Senators Tom Cotton (R-AR) and David Perdue (R-GA) recently introduced the Reforming American Immigration for Strong Employment (RAISE) Act. If it were to become law, RAISE would cut legal immigration by 50 percent over the next ten years by reducing green cards for family members of U.S. citizens and lawful permanent residents, slashing refugees, and eliminating the diversity visa lottery. These goals are in line with President Trump’s stated objective to cut legal immigration in most categories.
The RAISE Act’s goal is to increase wages for lower-skilled Americans by reducing the supply of lower-skilled immigrants. Their press release argues that the “generation-long influx of low-skilled labor has been a major factor in the downward pressure on the wages of working Americans, with the wages of recent immigrants hardest hit.” Under such a worldview, only a drastic reduction in green cards and the supply or workers can raise American wages – and it’s not crazy.
The National Academy of Sciences’ (NAS) exhaustive literature summary on the economic effects of immigration concluded that: “When measured over a period of 10 years or more, the impact of immigration on the wages of native-born workers overall is very small. To the extent that negative impacts occur, they are most likely to be found for prior immigrants or native-born workers who have not completed high school—who are often the closest substitutes for immigrant workers with low skills.” Although the effect is small, RAISE seeks to take advantage of the finding in the academic literature by inferring that if an increase in the supply of workers slightly lowers some wages then a decrease in that same supply will do the opposite.
It might seem odd then that RAISE doesn’t target employment-based green cards but that category is for highly skilled workers while the categories this bill would cut are more likely to allow in lower-skilled workers who have fairly high labor force participation rates. I’ve rebutted Senator Cotton’s poor economic arguments for immigration restrictions before but recent research is even more compelling.
A recent paper by economists Michael Clemens, Ethan Lewis, and Hannah Postel seems tailor-made to test what would happen if a bill like the RAISE Act were to become law. The paper studies the effectiveness of an immigration policy “designed to raise domestic wages and employment by reducing the total size of the workforce.” The U.S. government’s 1964 termination of the Bracero program for Mexican farm workers provides a natural experiment for their paper which is comparable to what would happen if RAISE becomes law. Senators Cotton and Perdue will be disappointed to discover that this new research found that ending lower-skilled migration for farm workers had little measurable effect on the labor market for Americans who worked in those occupations.
Figure 1 from their paper compares the quarterly average real farm wages by states where Braceros made up more than 20 percent of their seasonal agricultural labor (black line), states where Braceros were fewer than 20 percent of the workforce (gray line), and states where there were no Braceros at or very negligible numbers (dashed line). Clemens et al write that “[t]he figure shows that pre- and post-exclusion trends in real farm wages are similar in high exposure states and low-exposure states. It also shows that wages in both of those groups rose more slowly after bracero exclusion than wages in states with no exposure to exclusion.”
How can that be the case, shouldn’t a leftward shift in labor supply increase wages? Not necessarily as farmers had other options not usually contemplated by those who only think about the supply and demand for labor in isolation. Instead of hiring more American workers or raising their wages, farmers turned to machines and altered the crops they planted to take account of the new dearth of workers. Instead of planting crops that required labor-intensive harvesting or care, they planted other crops that required many fewer workers. Farmers turned to machines like tomato pickers and changed methods for planting and harvesting other crops to take account of the newer wages they would have faced had they stuck with the Bracero-era farm techniques.
The farmer’s actions in response to Bracero’s cancellation were economically inefficient and presumably raised the costs of production relative to their employment of legal workers under the Bracero program. But since the Bracero program wasn’t available anymore, using more machines and changing techniques were still the cheapest options available. Those options did not include hiring more Americans or raising their wages. The detailed empirical work in this paper considers many other possibilities but convincingly answers them, such as pointing out that nearly all of the Braceros went home instead of staying on illegally and that the flow illegal Mexican farm workers did not pick up immediately.
The similarities between the end of the Bracero program and the RAISE Act are enough to make this new research a compelling reason to reject the RAISE Act out of hand. The Bracero program allowed in half a million workers a year before it was eliminated which is about the same number of green cards that RAISE would cut. Bracero workers were lower-skilled and many of those that would be cut by RAISE are also low-skilled. Braceros were concentrated in some states and not others just like the new immigrants who would not be allowed under RAISE.
The ending of the Bracero program was a policy shift very similar to that proposed by the RAISE Act. Ending Bracero didn’t raise wages for American farm workers and we shouldn’t expect the RAISE Act to do the same for other low-skilled Americans who are suffering for myriad reasons that have nothing to do with immigration. Senators Cotton and Perdue may intend to raise the wages of lower-skilled Americans, but their bill is more likely to line the coffers of firms that manufacture machines that can substitute for them.
Comments Off on Why requiring Muslim visitors to register with Homeland Security is unjust
Throughout the presidential campaign, there was much talk of a Muslim registry. Fortunately, that seems to have fallen by the wayside since the election, and the Trump administration has been consistent, thus far, in denying it will pursue one. Still, we should remain vigilant about it because something similar is still on the table: a revived NSEERS program. And that program is unjust.
Active between 2002 and 2011, the National Security Entry-Exit Registration System (NSEERS) required foreign visitors from 24 Muslim countries and North Korea, regardless of religious affiliation, to register with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) when they entered the country. These visitors were also required to check in to a DHS facility on a yearly basis thereafter and to inform DHS if they moved or had a change in employment. Citizens, green card holders, and visitors from other countries (including other Muslim-majority countries) were not included.
NSEERS could easily be revived and, given the anti-Muslim tenor of the new administration, a reinvigorated system might require temporary visitors from any Muslim country to register with DHS.
What should we say, then, about an attempt to revive NSEERS? Consider a thought experiment:
Imagine I invite you into my home. We sit, have a meal, talk, and enjoy each other’s company. You ask for the restroom, and I point you to it. You leave my eyesight to use the restroom and I relax, awaiting your return. I relax because I invited you in and trust that you will not be doing anything untoward.
Now imagine that instead of relaxing and staying in my seat, I stand and follow you to the bathroom, listening at the door. In this scenario, something unacceptable is happening.
Now imagine that you travelled far to visit and are spending the week with me. I give you the spare key so that you are not limited by my schedule, but I insist that you call me every two hours. In this case, too, something is unacceptable.
In the second short visit, it would be reasonable for you to say, “I appreciate your hospitality, but following me to the bathroom is disturbing. I will leave now.” In the longer visit, it would be reasonable for you to say, “I appreciate your hospitality, but having to call you every two hours makes it less worthwhile. I will go to a hotel.” In both of these cases, we treat our visitors like they are criminals — which is to say, we treat them disrespectfully. We might do better to not invite them at all.
The analogue here should be clear: if we are going to allow visitors in the US, we should not treat them with contempt. We should assume they are peaceful. If we have good reason to think they are not, we should not let them in at all. Accepting guests into one’s home, one’s place of business, or one’s country requires treating them with respect.
If US citizens want to have foreigners in the country, those foreigners must be treated with respect — and requiring that they check in with DHS on regular intervals is not treating them with respect. There are things a legitimate government cannot do. It cannot imprison innocent people or those that it deems subversive because they disagree with its policies. It cannot bomb areas of the country where residents disapprove of its actions. In short, it must show proper respect for its citizens. And showing proper respect for its citizens requires showing proper respect for their visitors. Plausibly, we do this with the US-VISIT program (now the Office of Biometric Identity Management Identification Services), which is also more efficient while inviting less descrimination. There is, thus, no reason to even consider the disrespectful behavior of a revived NSEERS.
Of course, it is possible that limiting visits to the US to those from non-Muslim countries is needed to protect Americans. If that were the case, I suspect the majority of US citizens would be in favor of limiting those visits — not just continuing visits by some that are then disrespectfully monitored. But that is a different issue altogether — and one for which we have no evidence. Once we have determined that a visitor may safely cross the border into our country, we should treat them like we would treat a houseguest. With respect.
Comments Off on Is taxation theft?
I like a good meme as much as the next person. And when that meme expresses a libertarian principle, all the better. That said, I have my doubts about the “taxation is theft” meme making the rounds on my Facebook feed.
The government, like a highwayman, says to a man: Your money, or your life. And many, if not most, taxes are paid under the compulsion of that threat. The government does not, indeed, waylay a man in a lonely place, spring upon him from the road side, and, holding a pistol to his head, proceed to rifle his pockets. But the robbery is none the less a robbery on that account.
At first glance, Spooner’s analogy between the government and the highwayman seems compelling. Both demand that you hand over the contents of your wallet under the threat of force. Even if the highwayman uses your money for a noble purpose like charity, the fact remains that he stole that money.
So, is taxation theft? I’m not convinced. To start, notice that Spooner is assuming the person under threat doesn’t owe the money to the highwayman. If you “dined-and-dashed” at the highwayman’s cafe and he’s come to collect the bill, the interaction starts looking less like a robbery. This means that if you want to argue that taxation is theft, you’ll need to show that taxpayers aren’t obligated to pay their taxes. And that’s going to take some work.
For instance, it could be the case that you’re only entitled to your post-tax income because the protection of a tax-funded state is a precondition of your possessing income in the first place. According to this argument, if it weren’t for government services like the police and the military, you’d be unable to earn a living, enforce your property rights, and accumulate wealth. Thus, you can’t complain when the IRS takes a chunk of your paycheck so that the state can do its job.
Another view holds that taxation is justified as a way of ensuring the justness of the very system that distributes wealth and income. For instance, why is Elon Musk entitled to millions of dollars while others have so much less? On John Rawls’s theory of distributive justice, Musk may justifiably take home more money only if doing so works to the benefit of the poor, say, by increasing the tax revenue used to fund anti-poverty programs. So if Musk’s income weren’t taxed to help the poor, he wouldn’t have a moral claim on that income in the first place.
Even on a straightforwardly libertarian theory of property, it’s not clear that real-world taxation is theft. Consider Robert Nozick’s view that (roughly) you are entitled to the property that you take from the unowned commons (so long as you don’t make others worse off) and to the property that has been voluntarily transferred to you in the form of wages, gifts, sales, and so on.
The trouble is, the real-world distribution of property has been thoroughly contaminated by injustice. Historical injustices like slavery and Jim Crow influenced the present-day distribution of wealth. If you trace the history of your wealth back far enough, you’ll undoubtedly find that it’s been affected by injustice. Contemporary policies like immigration restrictions, trade restrictions, and occupational licensing also violate Nozick’s rules for acquiring property. So the real-world distribution of wealth and income is very different from a libertarian-approved distribution of wealth and income. Even within a libertarian framework, then, we have reason to doubt that we’re morally entitled to our current wealth and income.
Of course, taxation might be bad for other reasons. For instance, there is evidence that your tax dollars aren’t spent very efficiently. And, taxation can slow economic growth, a result that’s bad for everyone, including the poor. But saying that taxation is unwise is different than saying taxation is theft.
Comments Off on Individual liberty for a diverse society: Public reason liberalism
Public reason liberalism is an important approach to social and political philosophy that has two main tenets. We could summarize these tenets as
- Laws and institutions must be justified from the point of view of the people who are expected to obey them — and those people have diverse beliefs.
- “Liberal” laws and institutions are the ones most likely to be justified to all those diverse people. Indeed, liberal institutions may even be unique in having such justification in modern, deeply diverse societies.
I will explain each of these tenets in turn.
Justification and Diversity
The basic context for the notion of public justification is the recognition that even well-informed people of good will have very different religious, moral, and philosophic views. In light of this diversity of views, public reason theorists hold that certain shared institutions, such as coercive political institutions or systems of social-moral rules, must be justified to each person.
If we are to respect each other, have a fair system of cooperation between free and equal people, or realize other fundamental values, then our institutions must be justified to the diverse members of society. When there is adequate justification for each person, we say that the institution is publicly justified or supported by public reason.
Shared vs. Convergent Reasons
Now, there are different ways in which such public justification may be achieved. Some theorists emphasize (or exclusively permit) the use of “shared” reasons. This means finding some core values that each member has and then discerning what institutions may be justified by appeal to those alone.
Other theorists emphasize the use of “convergent reasons,” in which different people’s diverse beliefs and values lead to a common point. How does that differ from the “shared” approach?
Let’s use an everyday example: for a Friday night meal with friends, using shared reasons may lead us to get a pizza (because everyone likes pizza). Convergent reasons may lead us to go to a restaurant where I like the sandwiches and you like the soups. In that case, we may not like any of the same foods, but our interests “converge” in going to the same restaurant that lets us get the different foods we do like.
Through either of these forms of reasoning, we can share a meal we can all agree on, rather than some of us having to just live with the choice imposed by others.
That’s the big idea of the public reason in “public reason liberalism.” But what does the liberalism part mean?
By “liberalism,” here, I mean institutions incorporating individual liberties such as those regarding religion, association, speech, bodily integrity, and personal property, as well as political institutions characterized by democratic procedures, the rule of law, limited powers, and systems of checks and balances.
Liberal institutions entrench individual liberties, giving them a very high, if not absolute, priority when in conflict with other concerns. So, for instance, freedom of speech is restricted only in rare and special circumstances.
Consider the institutions of freedom of religion and the separation of church and state. No institution that politically imposed one particular religion on a group of diverse people could be publicly justified. But freedom of religion could be supported by all persons as something at least acceptable, even if not optimal, from their own perspective. This freedom provides for each person a valuable system of peaceful coexistence in which she can at least pursue her values to a significant degree and promote those values to others.
Moreover, different perspectives may provide convergent reasons for this set of liberal institutions. Atheists may want the separation of church and state so that the state does not promote (what they take to be) false views. Members of various religions may support the separation in order to insulate churches and mosques and so on from the corrupting influence of politics.
In general, public reason liberals argue, the liberal system of personal liberties and limited government ensures for each person a sphere of action in which they can pursue their own values and conceptions of the good life.
Of course, theorists within public reason liberalism argue about exactly which institutional features are necessary or would be publicly justified. And there is particular disagreement among theorists with regard to systems of private property rights, economic planning and regulation, and the provision of health and educational services.
Despite these disputes, public reason liberals share an embrace of the core liberal institutions, and remain focused on the search for institutions that can be justified to all in light of our deep and enduring diversity.
Comments Off on The free society is an open society
“He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither…” — Declaration of Independence
“Mister Gorbachev, tear down this wall.” — Ronald Reagan, June 12, 1987
In my previous essays between the election and the inauguration, I discussed how we got here, and how we didn’t, as well as what’s distinctively worrying about the new style of politics. In the first week of the new administration, it’s worth noting that we saw an outpouring of an identity-based politics of protest against rising illiberalism and misogyny, an extraordinary level of public untruth repeated by a spokesman who showed signs of not believing what he was saying but being forced into it, and the continued surrender of Republican elites to the new order.
I’m going to return to those themes in future posts; but given that the new administration is now in power, and it’s time to interrupt analyses of how and why, with discussions of what it is doing.
The populist authoritarianism that is rising across developed countries, the United States very much included, is characterized by a zeal to harden borders. Trade and migration are, between them, the great villains of the modern populist imagination, surpassing even domestic dissent. And, unsurprisingly, the first week of Donald Trump’s presidency included sharp blows against both the gradually liberalizing international trade order that the United States has led since World War II, and the freedom of human beings to move from place to place in the world. The chaos of the administration’s cruel and poorly-planned action against border-crossing by those born in seven Muslim countries is emerging as the defining act of these early days. For an earlier generation of conservatives, a militarized wall on an international boundary symbolized the evils of Communism and Soviet domination in eastern Europe. Now, such a wall will be the symbol of the Trump era as a whole. The administration is moving astonishingly quickly to make the United States a closed society.
Walls work in both directions—they keep people in, as well as out. The administration’s decision to suspend reentry for lawful residents who were abroad at the time of the order tells non-citizens in the United States—permanent residents, long-since admitted refugees or those granted asylum, spouses and students and H1-B visa holders doing highly skilled work that the country needs—that they travel outside the United States at risk of not being allowed to return. Even the eventual decision to allow permanent residents to re-enter on a case-by-case basis was presented as an exercise of agency discretion, not a disavowal of the tactic. The word of the United States isn’t good anymore—“permanent” resident now means something much less than that, and refugee status once granted might be revoked with no notice. Henceforth, peaceful, law-abiding residents will be much more afraid to leave the country. The barriers to letting people in thus act as a kind of cage to keep people in. Caged people aren’t free.
I wrote in Rationalism, Pluralism, and Freedom that “The core of liberal ideas includes religious toleration and freedom […], the rule of law, and especially the control by law of the executive’s security apparatus through habeas corpus, procedural rights, and prohibitions on torture and extrajudicial executions, imprisonment, or dispossession[…], and the desirability of commerce and international trade.” (p. 87)
Not only have all three elements of this core come under assault in Trump’s first week in office—they have come under assault specifically in association with his war on migrants: religious discrimination in migration, extrajudicial detention being carried in airports as we speak, and the idea of a 20% tariff wall on goods to pay for the physical border wall.
Notwithstanding some current talking points, the new immigration restrictions are religiously discriminatory in both intent and effect. Rudy Giuliani has openly acknowledged that this was the policy crafted in order to get as close as possible to the ban on Muslim immigration Trump called for on the campaign trail, while maybe being able to legally get away with it. And the combination of the identification of seven overwhelmingly-Muslim countries as the source of the supposed security threat (though zero nationals of those countries—zero—have killed anyone in an act of terrorism on U.S. soil) with special exemptions for Christians from those countries turns the new restrictions into exactly what Giuliani’s account leads us to expect: a religiously-exclusionary act with a veneer of a security excuse.
As Dylan Matthews argues, the liberal political theorist Judith Shklar’s essay “The Liberalism of Fear” helps us to see the centrality of resisting cruelty and lawless state violence to the liberal vision of the free society. (My first book aimed to apply Shklar’s insights to the political treatment of ethnic and cultural minorities; its title was a direct reference to the essay.) Until the end-of-week Muslim ban and abandonment of refugees, I would have said that the great horror of Trump’s first week was the mooted possibility of reopening black site prisons and his enthusiasm about torture—an enthusiasm he says he’ll reluctantly hold in check in deference to the views of some of his top appointees, though it’s hard to imagine his “deference” to these subordinates lasting forever.
But the developing war on immigrants puts us squarely into liberalism-of-fear terrain now. Coercive border control is an especially central location for those fearful rule-of-law concerns. It routinely involves indefinite detention without legal counsel or trial. While intelligence agencies all too often exercise state violence without legal oversight, for those charged with border control it is a constant. This weekend, legal residents of the United States were prevented from boarding their planes home, or on arrival in the U.S., were physically detained without counsel or legal process.
While at this writing the situation remains unclear, there are reports that even after judicial rulings against aspects of the new policy, border patrol agents were refusing to recognize court orders. Trump advisor Stephen Miller seemed to adopt an especially strong attitude of disregard for judicial oversight, maintaining that a court order neither “impedes or prevents the implementation of the president’s executive order which remains in full, complete and total effect.” And even before the Muslim ban was announced, the new executive orders on border control significantly expanded the arbitrary authority of immigration control officers to decide whom to deport, and insisted on a huge increase in those undocumented migrants—including asylum-seekers—who would be kept in indefinite detention. (Dara Lind at Vox, author of that latter piece, has been providing especially important and valuable coverage of these issues.)
For four months, all refugee admissions will be suspended, from everywhere in the world, abandoning many to the repression and war from which they are fleeing. The refugee suspension has perhaps gotten the least attention in the U.S., as it lacks some easily-understood and high-profile features of the Muslim ban: both the religious discrimination and the exclusion from reentry of people who have already lived here.
But it is no less cruel. People whose claim for refuge has already been judged valid, people who have already been “vetted” as posing no security risk, people fleeing war zones and repression from anywhere in the world, now find themselves locked out. This keeps refugee camps that much fuller, leaving that much less space for new people also fleeing. It further encourages very dangerous alternatives, such as families entrusting themselves to smugglers or to risky self-help in boats or on foot. Locking refugees out is a violation of international law; more to the point, it is monstrous, and renders the U.S. a kind of jailer for people at risk, keeping them locked in where they are now.
In treating peaceful civilian migration the way states treat invading armies, coercive border control always involves a deeply suspect kind of lawless violence. These aren’t permanent features of political life. The system of passports and visas as required for international movement and migration is surprisingly recent. Open, document-less borders within Europe were closed as an emergency measure during World War I; the generalized world system of passports wasn’t imposed until 1920. The passport as a document was much older, but mainly offered protection to local subjects traveling abroad. It could confirm one’s identity, but was not normally a requirement for crossing frontiers.
The liberal understanding of free societies and politics grew in part out of life in commercial medieval European cities—cities whose walls were to keep out armies, not civilians (or goods, as the cities were entirely dependent on trade). In the famous legal principle that governed those cities, “city air makes you free;” one who lived in such a city for a year and a day gained the freedom of city life against the oppression of the feudal countryside. The cities were proud of this, and grew by it.
After enjoying open borders for half of its history, the U.S. has had a deeply unhappy series of experiences with border control. The first federal regulation on entry was a racist restriction on Chinese migrants, the second a similar de facto regulation of those from Japan. There have been recurring restrictions on the grounds of political beliefs. During the middle decades of the 20th century when U.S. immigration was most severely limited, Franklin Roosevelt turned away Jewish refugees fleeing Hitler on the grounds that they might include German spies—an approach that is all but indistinguishable from the contemporary conflation of those fleeing war and persecution in majority-Muslim countries with radical Islamist terrorists. (Many of those turned away then died in the Holocaust; and many of those turned away now may die in their home countries’ civil wars or despotic regimes.) And the long effort to prevent migration across the southern border has seen a constant expansion of intrusive police power, and an extension of border control authority deep into the territory of the United States, putting a majority of the American population in regions where border agents wield extra-Constitutional powers.
Many people have gradually come to acknowledge the failure of a drug war focused on militarized border interdiction, and the cost in subjecting Americans to a domestic militarized police force trying to suppress supply of drugs for which there is demand. Such policies finally turned much of northern Mexico into a near-war-zone, with wealthy and violent drug cartels enjoying the profits of U.S. prohibition. (This is, of course, not unrelated to many Mexicans’ attempt to flee into the U.S.)
We should expect no different from a war on immigration. A wall can’t stop the operation of supply and demand, whether for labor or for safe refuge; it can only enrich the illegal smugglers who learn how to defeat it. And hunting migrants peacefully living inside the U.S. requires constant invasion of everyone’s privacy and liberty, not just that of the migrants themselves. Every relationship from the workplace to the classroom to marriage is subject to regulation and prohibition: you may not employ, or teach, or marry whom you wish. But they’re also all subject to policing: who are your students? Have you checked your employees’ papers? Are you really married to your spouse?
Far too many people seem to believe that the system of walls, cages, and lawless state action can be safely aimed only outward—against strangers, against those with no claim on the United States—and that the shift toward populist authoritarian nationalism at the border can be cordoned off from domestic liberty. Even if it were right (which it’s absolutely not), to disregard the cost to those strangers’ liberty—to lock them in their countries of origin, however tyrannical, violent, or impoverished they may be—that’s not how it works. A society can’t close itself off and remain free.
Comments Off on 3 Oscar films for the radical individualist
Films are stories, stories have heroes, and heroism is almost by definition a celebration of the individual. Great films codify and reflect our greatest values back to us. Even antiheroes are instructive about their personal goals and flaws.
But this year’s Oscar nominations offer up a few films with especially strong individualist themes.
For an in-depth look at the individualist philosophy, one could do worse than Eric Foner’s even-handed overview, “Radical Individualism in America.” But, tl;dr, individualism places an emphasis on the rights of the individual and the pursuit of his or her happiness, rather than the prerogatives of collectives or states, as the core to a just and liberal society.
Martin Scorsese’s Silence, nominated for best cinematography, stars Andrew Garfield as a 17th-century Jesuit priest, Alessandro Valignano. He travels to Japan to rescue his mentor (Liam Neeson), a missionary. At that time, Christianity was illegal in imperial Japan, and anyone caught practicing the religion could be subjected to torture until they renounced their faith.
Scorsese subjects us to multiple scenes of Japanese Christians put through torture to renounce their faith, with a mostly helpless Valignano doing his best to maintain the community’s morale. Ultimately, he is forced to watch five of his disciples brutally tortured until he personally renounces his own faith. He spends the rest of his days in Japan as an apostate priest, sadly sorting through foreign imports for any forbidden Christian iconography.
The freedom to practice the religion of one’s choosing is essential to a free society. Leave aside for a moment the immorality of torturing people because of their faith. Even if it weren’t wrong, it is nearly impossible to force someone to change their core beliefs. The viewer assumes Valignano has been broken by the torture he endured, but the last image we see is his dead hand clutching a contraband cross.
Silence is an excellent, if difficult-to-watch, exploration of an individual pitted against the most extreme hostility of a larger collective.
Ayn Rand would have been proud of Andrew Garfield’s acting choices in 2016, because he stars in this next film as well — in fact, this performance has earned Garfield a nomination for best actor. Hacksaw Ridge is based on the true story of Corporal Desmond Doss, who was the first conscientious objector to receive the Medal of Honor.
Doss, a hardline pacifist, volunteers for military medical service at the outbreak of the Second World War. Although he undergoes, and excels at, the harsh training of boot camp, he refuses to touch weaponry or train on Saturday (the sabbath day for Seventh Day Adventists). His peers and superiors ostracize him, even going so far as to have him discharged for psychiatric reasons. He endures a savage beating, but refuses to identify his assailants.
His refusal to handle weaponry as an enlisted soldier leads to his being arrested for insubordination. While in a jail cell, his fiancée begs him to plead guilty so he can be released, but Doss won’t compromise. He is ultimately vindicated and goes on to serve heroically as a medic in the Battle of Okinawa.
Much like Silence, Hacksaw Ridge digs deep into the concept of religious freedom. But the religious part isn’t really the point so much as the freedom part. The liberty of the mind is a core individualist value. Thomas Paine once put it succinctly: “My own mind is my own church.” The liberal society is strong in large part because different people believe, and argue for, different ideas. Societal change is impossible without competing views butting heads.
La La Land
It’s wildly unlike the above films in tone. But it is also a fierce defense of individualism. Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone) both have big dreams. Mia wants to be an actress, and Sebastian wants to open a jazz club, in part so that he can protect the heritage of a genre that he thinks is growing corrupted by the pervasiveness of pop music.
Like a lot of individualists, they’re both incredibly headstrong. Sebastian loses gig work because he constantly goes off preapproved set lists in favor of jazz improv. Mia is all-in on pursuing a dream career, one that results in failure for just about everyone who tries. But being headstrong is only half the story: they acknowledge their stubbornness and accept the consequences.
Rebellion against societal norms carries costs for these types. They full well know it, and rebel anyway. In an earlier era, before the word was ruined, we called this romanticism.
The claim that La La Land is about radical individualism may seem like a stretch, but it’s encoded deep within the film. For instance, Sebastian and Mia go on a date that involves first watching, and then recreating a scene from one of the great films about individuals confronting societal pressures, Rebel Without a Cause.
Sebastian and Mia clearly love each other, but they ultimately decide not to compromise on their dreams. This is neither right nor wrong, but it does come with consequences. They could either have each other, or have their respective dreams realized. Call it the “pursuit of happiness,” even though the film’s ending is wicked sad.
Here’s to the Individualists
There is something to be said for the risk-taker, the visionary, the rebel. Ayn Rand, in “The Soul of an Individualist,” phrased it memorably:
The great creators — the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors — stood alone against the men of their time. Every great new thought was opposed. Every great new invention was denounced. But … they fought, they suffered, and they paid. But they won.
This is perhaps even more true for the great heroes of film than it is for the great heroes of history, although “winning” is often more like getting a seat at Valhalla than actual victory.
Great stories almost always emphasize the worth and moral dignity of the individual. This does not mean groups don’t matter, or that one should descend into solipsism. Individualism matters because you only get one life to live, and nobody is in a better place to make the most of it than you.
Comments Off on What you should know about the Non-Aggression Principle
You’ve heard libertarians talking about it. You’ve seen the dank memes. But what exactly is the non-aggression principle? What does it do? And why does it get talked about so much?
In this post, I’ll try to explain.
There are many historical antecedents to the NAP, but libertarians usually trace its current formulation to Murray Rothbard, who put it as follows:
The fundamental axiom of libertarian theory is that no one may threaten or commit violence (“aggress”) against another man’s person or property. Violence may be employed only against the man who commits such violence; that is, only defensively against the aggressive violence of another.
In short, no violence may be employed against a nonaggressor. Here is the fundamental rule from which can be deduced the entire corpus of libertarian theory.
The nonaggression principle is sometimes (and confusingly) called an axiom, a practice which Rothbard also began. If we use the standard meaning of the word “axiom,” the NAP is no such thing: an axiom is a statement that is self-evidently true or that cannot reasonably be denied. An example of a philosophical axiom might be something like “I am aware of phenomena” or “modus ponens is a valid form of reasoning.”
The NAP requires more argument than these. Although it may be foundational to libertarian theory – and thus axiomatic in a weaker sense of the term — the NAP clearly does not prove itself; just as clearly, reasonable people can and do deny it. Crucially, the NAP depends on the existence of a definition of aggression; if this definition of aggression is to encompass assaults not committed directly on the body, then the NAP also depends on a valid theory of property ownership. Neither of these is self-evident. Both are contentious topics in political theory about which libertarians offer a specific set of answers, but not everyone will agree with us.
Note that we can’t use the NAP to establish that property may be justly held. Nor can we use it to establish the validity of a particular pattern of property ownership among many — that would be circular: ownership rights cannot acquire the condition of justice simply by asserting that their violation would be unjust.
And yet property claims must derive from something; they seem all but inescapable. Claims about property are found even among animals. The earliest known forms of writing are tallies that were apparently used to keep track of possessions. Contrary to what some on the left may say, no human society appears ever to have been entirely without property.
Indeed, even a wholly communist society would run on the assertion that the whole of the people is the collective owner of all property. By no means does communism lack property claims: on the contrary, its claims in this area are almost impossibly rigid and ubiquitous. How well such a society could instantiate these claims (and what results may come of trying) are different questions entirely. What matters is that even communist societies make claims about property constantly.
If property claims are an inevitable feature of human society, as seems likely, then we cannot escape the question of what status these claims will have, whether collectively or in particular. We must ask not so much whether property is justified, but rather what its extent should be, which objects should be subject to property claims, and which entities within society should be the rightful possessors of what goods, and for what reasons.
John Locke’s theory of property, which has frequently been invoked by classical liberals, holds that property began as a grant of the entire world, from God, to all of humanity in common. Property became private, Locke held, because property existed from the beginning to satisfy human needs, and because private property was apt to satisfy those needs more effectively. Individuals improve private property, a step which they tend not to take with a commons, and thus private property is more apt to the purpose for which property exists in any form.
For those not satisfied by the Lockean account — myself included — David Hume offered a justification for private property that rests on its effects upon human beings:
Who sees not, for instance, that whatever is produced or improved by a man’s art or industry ought, for ever, to be secured to him, in order to give encouragement to such useful habits and accomplishments? That the property ought also to descend to children and relations, for the same useful purpose? That it may be alienated by consent, in order to beget that commerce and intercourse, which is so beneficial to human society? And that all contracts and promises ought carefully to be fulfilled, in order to secure mutual trust and confidence, by which the general interest of mankind is so much promoted?
Examine the writers on the laws of nature; and you will always find, that, whatever principles they set out with, they are sure to terminate here at last, and to assign, as the ultimate reason for every rule which they establish, the convenience and necessities of mankind.
Emphasis added. Societies in which property is privately held will cultivate useful habits and accomplishments in their members: property conduces to virtue. (Hume’s argument here is sometimes taken for a rejection of natural law altogether, but I do not agree. Although it relies on no supernatural justifications, observations about the nature of mankind may indeed form the basis for a type of natural law theory.)
We might add to Hume the further observation that where property is held in common, individuals will often endeavor to live by the labor of others, using the common property as a means to their own ends. The efforts expended in pursuing this strategy, however, are not productive; they do not add to the stock of goods that humanity has at its disposal. In this sense, they represent wasted effort, and the waste is encouraged by the system of common property itself. Similarly, when property is not held in common, but when its tenure is doubtful or insecure, individuals will not exercise the industry needed to improve it for the long term, and this too impoverishes humanity in general.
None of these considerations are likely to be terribly problematic to someone who has grown up in a society where private property predominates. We are used to the usefulness of property.
But there is something about the NAP that is nonetheless politically important, because it serves as an indictment of much government action that is otherwise held to be morally acceptable. The NAP reminds us that theories of property in many of their most common and seemingly inoffensive formulations stand deeply at odds with the justifications for government action that are held by (perhaps) the vast majority of citizens in the modern world. That this vast majority simultaneously holds to something like a Lockean or a Humean conception of private property ought to trouble them enormously: such a conception may call into question the propriety of the state itself.
As Rothbard put it, “The problem is not so much in arriving at [the NAP] as in fearlessly and consistently pursuing its numerous and often astounding implications.” This task has always been the work of the libertarian movement, and it has indeed brought us to some astounding implications, including the idea that taxation is tantamount to theft.
Almost everyone has some theory of property, even if it’s a badly considered one. And almost everyone has a theory of what government ought to do. Pointing out that these theories are usually in conflict with one another is an important move, above all when government is apt to justify itself by arguing that it preserves property rights. Thus, the NAP’s importance is not that it founds a theory of property, but rather that it points out a conflict: considered as classes, theories of property and theories of government usually don’t get along too well. Actions that deprive individuals of property without their consent stand as exceptions to the rule of private property, a rule which most of us generally endorse. And yet “actions that deprive individuals of private property without their consent” are precisely what make governments function.
Forcing people to confront this conflict in their intuitions isn’t trivial work by any means. Resolutions to the conflict may vary, but libertarians can almost be defined as those who refuse to grant special exemptions to the government when private property is at stake. It may be that particular government actions can be justified, but doing so will require a careful revision of our deeper ideas about private property. This sort of revision is almost never actually undertaken by the proponents of state action, and when it is undertaken, it is seldom to the satisfaction of libertarians. Even without fully adopting the libertarian program, others may do well to consider more carefully these conflicting intuitions.
Comments Off on Rawls the Irrelevant
As editor of Cato Unbound, I don’t actively take sides. Here, though, I’m going to be a bit polemical. My thesis is simple: If you want to square libertarianism with social justice, John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice is probably not a book you should reach for.
As the term is usually used, the advocates of “social justice” are not Rawlseans. You will not win them by quoting Rawls. You will not win them by thinking like Rawls. They know what they want, and Rawls isn’t it. Rawls is for the milquetoasts of the academy; social justice is radical stuff. Whatever their origins, the two have diverged, and there’s no sense denying it.
(This leaves aside Rawls’ effect on libertarianism proper, which Todd Seavey has aptly described as “attaching a washing machine to a soufflé.” The only way to improve would be to specify, more elegantly than I’m doing right now, that the free market is the washing machine, a durable good that benefits everyone; and Rawls is the soufflé, a fragile, delectable confection, enjoyed for half a minute by a well-stuffed class of elites.)
Now we may certainly debate the merits of Rawls’ system (I say it’s flawed) but we should recognize that Rawls is tangential to the debate about libertarianism and social justice.1
Rawls’ distinctive move in political theory was to recommend a shift in strategy. Those who are most concerned with the poor should reject both egalitarianism and utilitarianism, he argued. In their place he urged a maximin strategy, in which inequality of wealth would be tolerated, and even welcomed, on the condition that relative disparities in wealth always worked to the absolute benefit of the poor.
I’d like to ask the libertarians who are keen on Rawls: Have you ever tried pointing out the absolute wealth of the American poor? Have you ever mentioned this fact to a progressive? And did their hair not immediately catch fire?
For decades, the U.S. Census Bureau has reported that over 30 million Americans were living in “poverty,” but the bureau’s definition of poverty differs widely from that held by most Americans. In fact, other government surveys show that most of the persons whom the government defines as “in poverty” are not poor in any ordinary sense of the term. The overwhelming majority of the poor have air conditioning, cable TV, and a host of other modern amenities. They are well housed, have an adequate and reasonably steady supply of food, and have met their other basic needs, including medical care. Some poor Americans do experience significant hardships, including temporary food shortages or inadequate housing, but these individuals are a minority within the overall poverty population. Poverty remains an issue of serious social concern, but accurate information about that problem is essential in crafting wise public policy. Exaggeration and misinformation about poverty obscure the nature, extent, and causes of real material deprivation, thereby hampering the development of well-targeted, effective programs to reduce the problem.
To a rounding error, this is what Rawls would demand. Note that the absolute wealth of our poor is virtually unprecedented in all of human history. It’s an accomplishment shared only by those countries that have adopted a significant measure of free market economics, or, at best, by a few others who piggybacked on the free market’s creative success while adding almost nothing of value themselves.
The overwhelming majority of the poor in the United States enjoy technological wonders that didn’t even exist a few decades ago. Outside the free market/liberal democratic synthesis, essentially no other social system has ever delivered as much — because almost none of them can produce a steady stream of new technological innovations in the first place, let alone distribute them to the poor.
Forgetting, then, that most American poor really do eat cake. Also forgetting that the very notion of the poor eating cake was unthinkably absurd for all of human history. That’s why it became a catchphrase — because it was absurd. And yet our poor eat cake while talking on a video phone and watching their choice of movies on a flat-screen TV.
This really ought to count for something, but somehow it never does. And if giving the poor a lifestyle that would have been the merest science fiction in the 1960s doesn’t count for anything — then what on earth would?
In one sense, the poor are entitled to as much as possible. And I mean that sincerely. Were I able, I would give every American a salary of $200,000 a year — in real terms, not inflationary funny-money. I would put everyone in today’s much-hated one percent. And why stop there? Let’s have free clothes from Prada. Free meals from Le Bernardin. And biological immortality. And a fully functional U.S.S. Enterprise. Because hey, why not?
Where we could find all that wealth, God only knows. But the problems are technological, not philosophical. Nothing in justice forbids everyone from growing arbitrarily wealthy, provided they come by it peaceably and honestly.
But what is social justice, then? It’s the kind of justice demanded by socialism. We might want to say that market institutions can provide it. We might want to say a lot of things about markets. We think markets are good; naturally, we want to promote them. But we should not lose sight of what markets actually are. Or of who our real audience is. This stuff isn’t going to convince socialists, and we’re kidding ourselves if we think that it will.
The type of justice demanded by socialism is neither the type favored by libertarians — that of continuous, undirected, uncoerced economic activity — nor the type favored by Rawlseans — too complex to set off neatly with dashes. Social justice appears to mean (1) an ever-greater equality of outcome through forced wealth transfer and/or state-run economies; (2) a prediction — surely falsifiable — that forced transfers enhance the dignity and autonomy of the poor, (3) state-subsidized status enhancement for members of aggrieved groups, and (4) never mind about the absolute holdings of the poor, already.
That’s also why I will never be a socialist, and why I will always be skeptical of social justice.
The advocates of social justice do not like it that the poor have surprisingly large holdings in absolute terms. Point it out to them, and they grow resentful or condescending. (“Well… but… it’s not really very nice cake…”) All these consumer goods dull the sense of envy, and that sense needs to be sharpened if we’re going to force the equality of outcome.
But you never make more cake by slicing it up differently. When cake goes to the hungriest, you don’t encourage baking; you encourage whining about hunger. How do you make more cake? Even the baker can’t answer that question in any detail. It’s a product, so far as we can tell, only of the market process, of specialization and gains from trade, of local knowledge and market discipline.
That discipline now yields a productivity unheard of in all of human history. That’s something we and the Rawlseans both might learn from. But it’s not a thing beloved by the advocates of social justice.
1 On that tangent: I find Rawls incompatible with libertarianism in part because Rawlsean thinking is too quick to bless the status quo. It is, as I suggest above, too conservative for libertarianism, which ought to be a radical political movement. Libertarianism should always begin at or near the question, “Why is there some government rather than no government?” Libertarians may be anarchists or minarchists, but they should never take government as either a matter of course or as one of indifference.
This piece was originally published at Libertarianism.org. It is one side of a debate between Jason Kuznicki and Brian Kogelmann. You can read Kogelmann’s piece here.
Comments Off on A (Revised) Theory of Justice
I’ll admit it: I’m a Rawls guy. I consider Rawls’s A Theory of Justice to be one of the most compelling pieces of political philosophy ever written, grounded in one of the most convincing justificatory arguments ever crafted. But I’m also a libertarian. This presents something of a problem: although Rawls is part of the liberal tradition, he is arguably the pinnacle of the “high” liberal tradition, which is a far cry from the “classical” side I’m more comfortable with. Indeed, Rawls maintained that out of five possible political orders—laissez-faire capitalism, welfare-state capitalism, state socialism, liberal (market) socialism, and property-owning democracy—only two such orders would be justified by the argument he sets forth: market socialism and property-owning democracy. (John Rawls, Justice as Fairness: A Restatement, 136-138.) Given my commitment to Rawlsian political philosophy and my staunch libertarian leanings, a pressing question arises: what gives?
Before explaining away the apparent contradiction I need to give a brief summary of Rawls’s overall argument from A Theory of Justice. Rawls saw himself as continuing the social contract tradition found in Locke, Rousseau, and Kant, though with a higher level of sophistication and abstraction than his historical predecessors possessed. In doing so he saw the social contract as a hypothetical contract: the principles of justice are the principles we would agree to if faced with an original bargaining position subject to certain constraints. The major constraint of the original position is that we consider potential political orders while behind a veil of ignorance: that is, we can’t know our particular position in society—whether we’re rich or poor, black or white, insanely talented or disappointingly average, hardworking or in a perennial state of torpor, religious or an atheist. In doing so we get rid of features Rawls considers to be morally arbitrary while also removing personal bias: after all, there is something suspect about billionaires arguing that capital gains taxes are unjust, as there is when the impecunious argue for radical egalitarianism.
The resulting principles of justice agreed to in the original position are as follows: First, each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive basic liberties compatible with a similar scheme of liberties for others. Rawls says those basic liberties are the right to vote and hold office, liberty of conscience and freedom of thought, freedom of speech and assembly, as well as the right to hold personal (not productive) property. (A Theory of Justice, 53.) Second (and this is an incomplete summary), social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are to the greatest expected benefit of the least advantaged. (Ibid., 72.) This principle requires that we think about economic inequalities by first imagining a perfect state of equality. Deviation from this perfect state of equality is justified only if the least advantaged in this new state of inequality are better off than they would be in the original state of perfect equality. As a final note, we need to recognize one more salient feature of the two principles of justice: namely, that they are in lexical order. By this Rawls means to say that “infringement of the basic equal liberties protected by the first principle cannot be justified, or compensated for, by greater social and economic advantages.” (Ibid., 54.) In other words, we can’t go about messing with people’s basic liberties in order to make those worst off in society better off, as required by the second principle. The basic liberties are fixed.
Given these two principles of justice, how can we go about marrying Rawlsian political philosophy with libertarianism? There are two ways, both of which I endorse, both of which, to be fair, face problems of their own. First, we can take a route similar to John Tomasi’s in his excellent new book Free Market Fairness, though I do diverge with him in significant ways. This approach argues that Rawls’s list of basic liberties enumerated in the first principle is lacking. What should also be included is “thick economic liberties,” which includes (by my estimation) the freedom of contract, the right to own private productive property, as well as the right to keep most of the fruits of one’s labor. If these liberties were included then—given the lexical ordering of the principles of justice—it would follow that the pursuit of the satisfaction of the second principle through setting up redistributive institutions would be greatly handicapped, for we cannot do anything that violates our now-present economic rights. Thus, in shifting the content of the first principle we protect economic liberties while limiting the significance and scope of redistribution.
This approach is not without problems, though. One key feature of Rawls’s understanding of the basic liberties (particularly the political ones) is that it is not sufficient that we simply have them; we also must be able to realize their “fair value.” By this, Rawls means that we must be able to meaningfully exercise these rights. As an example, it is true that I have the right to run for political office. But given that I am a poor graduate student, and given that running for office costs a great deal of money, it is probably true that I cannot exercise this right in a meaningful way—that is, the fair value of my right is not realized. One of the reasons, cites Rawls, that the fair value of rights is often not realized is due to wealth inequality: “While it may appear … that citizens’ basic rights and liberties are effectively equal … social and economic inequalities in background institutions are ordinarily so large that those with great wealth and position usually control political life and enact legislation and social policies that advance their interests.” (Justice as Fairness: A Restatement, 148. ) And he’s probably right about this: massive wealth inequalities allow some individuals to exercise their rights more effectively than others. As such, there is a tension between wealth inequality and the realization of the fair value of the basic liberties enumerated in the first principle of justice.
The problem here is that if we are to achieve fair value for everyone’s basic liberties then we will probably need to do something about massive wealth inequalities—but we can’t, because we have just included thick economic liberties as basic liberties, which would mean that we would have to violate our newfound thick economic liberties in order to reach a state of distribution that allows for the fair value of our other basic liberties to be realized. This would mean, to put it in Orwellian terms, that some basic liberties are more equal than others. And the problems don’t stop there. Can a poor person realize the fair value of their right to own private productive property (if we are to include thick economic liberties as those whose fair value must be realized)? Probably not—after all, it costs a lot to buy a factory. As such, does the inclusion of thick economic liberties coupled with the fair value criterion require us to redistribute so we can allow the fair value of our new thick economic liberties to be realized? If the answer is yes, then it seems like we would be in the peculiar position of having to violate our newfound thick economic liberties in order to, in a sense, realize them. These problems are not incorrigible, though. Two solutions come to mind: we can lexically order the basic liberties as we did the two principles of justice, or we can get rid of the fair value criterion, and only require that we protect basic liberties in a formal, less robust sense.
Here is the second way we can marry Rawls’s political philosophy with libertarianism: We can keep the basic structure of the two principles of justice the same, and simply make an economic argument. We can argue that the political order best satisfying the second principle of justice is a free market capitalistic order—that, as a matter of fact, the worst off will be best off if we let the market run its course. This would essentially result in libertarians echoing Milton Friedman’s pithy line that a rising tide raises all boats. As someone who lacks formal economic training, there is not much I can say about this type of argument. This, though, is actually one of the argument’s weaknesses: Given the incredible lack of agreement we see among professional economists, it is doubtful that we can ever be sure what economic system will indeed best satisfy the second principle of justice. Thus, there will always be indeterminacy as to whether this argument is correct or not due to its reliance on empirical facts—an indeterminacy that could (presumably) be avoided with a knock-down philosophical argument, as the above approach requires.
In this essay I presented two ways one can reconcile Rawls’s political philosophy with libertarianism. As someone who broadly endorses the Rawslian approach to political philosophy I also endorse the two arguments presented in this paper. In the spirit of fairness I also tried to highlight the problems both these approaches encounter. I think this is an important thing to do. There is no perfect argument, as of yet, establishing libertarianism as the best, or most just, political order. By doing exercises like this—by presenting various arguments in support of libertarianism while also being open and honest about their weaknesses—we can hopefully make philosophical progress through constructive discussion, and, at times, through trial by fire. In the end, libertarianism as a whole will be better off.
This piece was originally published at Libertarianism.org. It is one side of a debate between Jason Kuznicki and Brian Kogelmann. You can read Kuznicki’s piece here.
Comments Off on The many faces of means-testing
Isn’t a Universal Basic Income just another name for a negative income tax, such as Tax = -$10,000 + .3*Income? If so, isn’t a Universal Basic Income means-tested by definition?
The answer to the first question is Yes. UBI is just Milton Friedman’s negative income tax in new packaging.
The answer to the second question, however, is more equivocal. The UBI is means-tested in the weak sense that your net payment falls with income. But the UBI dispenses with many other traditional forms of means-testing. Most notably:
- Means-testing by age. Most welfare states prioritize children and the elderly. The implicit theory is that, unlike prime-age adults, the very young and the very old are unable to provide for themselves.
- Means-testing by dependents and marital status. Most welfare states prioritize single moms with minor children. The implicit theory is that single moms have reduced opportunities to work due to their family responsibilities.
- Means-testing by health. Most welfare states prioritize the disabled. The implicit theory is that they’re not healthy enough to work.
- Means-testing by job history. Most welfare states prioritize people who recently lost their jobs over people who have never worked, or lost their jobs a long time ago. The implicit theory is that the short-term unemployed are unlucky, while the long-term unemployed are lazy.
If your UBI proposal includes factors like these in its formula, it’s very hard to see what makes it a UBI.
If your UBI proposal dispenses with most or all these factors, then it is a distinctive reform indeed. But “distinctive” is a far cry from “good.”
Advocates correctly note that dropping multi-faceted means-testing reduces moral hazard: If your monthly payment doesn’t depend on your health, you have no reason to fake bad health.
But there is also an gargantuan disadvantage: Dropping multi-faceted means-testing greatly increases the number of eligible recipients. If perfectly able-bodied, childless adults are eligible for free money, plenty will take it – and many won’t work at all. Taxes on remaining workers have to rise to pay for them. This probably won’t create a “UBI death spiral,” but a milder sloth spiral definitely kicks in, especially over the longer run as stigma against idleness erodes. And the burden of supporting able-bodied non-workers is also very likely to cut into funding for the more deserving poor.
Frankly, given the bleak long-run fiscal forecast for the U.S., I’m baffled that anyone with libertarian sympathies takes the UBI seriously. The welfare state is already unsustainable, largely because our means-testing by age and health isn’t stringent enough. The elderly may have trouble working now, but since they had a lifetime to save for their own retirements, few of the indigent elderly are victims of circumstance. And given the huge long-run rise in the share of U.S. adults on disability despite rising health and less strenuous jobs, its clearly far too easy to plead disability.
What’s especially strange is that the bleak long-run fiscal forecast makes old-school libertarian austerity more relevant than ever. Why are so many libertarians running away from our core ideas when conditions are nearly ripe for mainstream America to finally listen to us?
Comments Off on Weird election rules: The baseball hall of fame
Hillary Clinton won the popular vote. But Donald Trump won the Electoral College. What would happen if we got rid of the Electoral College? Or if we switched to proportional representation?
It’s hard to predict with certainty how our political elections would look under different rules because the process of determining a president has been effectively unchanged over the last two centuries. Yes, there is considerable benefit to rule consistency. But in an empirical sense, it would be enlightening to have seen America’s voting rules change over time and the impacts of those changes on the process of selecting the president.
But in a broader sense, any variation in election rules — for president, for student body treasurer, or for anything else — allows us to examine the rules’ impact on voting outcomes.
Fortunately for us, there was another election result announced recently that has witnessed some changes in its voting procedure over the years — the annual voting for the Baseball Hall of Fame.
While there’s certainly less at stake with Hall of Fame voting — coercion included — the process can still give us some insight.
Voting for 10
Hall of Fame voting is different from political elections in several ways. First, Hall of Fame voting is not a winner-take-all election. Candidates gain entrance into the Baseball Hall of Fame simply by meeting the criteria of being named on 75% of the ballots cast. And, because each voter can put up to 10 players on their ballot, oftentimes several players get inducted in the same voting cycle. This year, three players were inducted by the vote.
More interestingly, players can appear on the ballot numerous times. In essence, voters are considering the same electoral question over several consecutive voting cycles. If we assume voters to be rational, then a voter’s decision on any particular player should not change across ballots and across years. Interestingly, this doesn’t appear to be the case.
The voting history of retired players for the Hall of Fame is littered with cases of receiving markedly different levels of votes across different years. Jim Rice, inducted into the Hall of Fame in his 15th and final year of eligibility in 2009, received 76.4% of the vote; in 1995, during his 1st year of eligibility, he received 29.8%.
The most shocking example may be that of Ralph Kiner, who garnered just 1.1% of the vote in 1960 before finally being inducted in 1975 with 75.4%. How can we explain this seemingly inconsistent result — that only 1% of voters judged a career to be Hall of Fame–worthy in one year, while 75% of voters deemed it worthy just 15 years later?
There are several possibilities. Maybe the assumption that Hall of Fame voters are rational is ill-conceived. Indeed, there is a feeling that voters become more sentimental for fringe candidates over time, perhaps even enough to push them over the 75% threshold for induction. And instances of any candidate losing votes over time — Curt Schilling notwithstanding — are rare.
But maybe we can look to voting rules causing these curious outcomes. As previously mentioned, voters are limited to a maximum of ten players on any particular ballot. It could then be the case that voters feel there are more candidates worthy of Hall of Fame consideration than they are able to vote for, and thus must find some way to prioritize some players over others.
There is some evidence for this having an impact. Of the approximately 300 ballots made public from this year’s vote (OneDrive users can access the data here), over half contained the full 10 names. And nearly a third of those with full ballots directly indicated that they would have preferred to vote for more than 10 players.
While a 1%-to-75% shift may be too big to attribute entirely to ballot-crowd-out, it may well be a significant factor in the general upward trend of vote totals for players over the years.
Who Can Vote?
Another culprit for the shifting vote totals is a constant change in population of those who are able to vote. Voting for the Baseball Hall of Fame is run by the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA). Since 1947, BBWAA limited the ability to vote for the Hall of Fame to members of 10 years or more. Once receiving the ability to vote, members held it until death (unless they decided to opt out).
Then, in 2015, the Hall of Fame announced that BBWAA members who had not actively covered the sports within the last 10 years would be ineligible to vote — effectively ending life-long voting.
It is uncertain exactly what the impact of this voting rule change will be in the long run — it’s possible that sentimentality may drop by removing the longest-tenured voters, and the perception of what it means to be a Hall of Famer may change more quickly in aggregate by removing a chunk of the electorate — but the impact on vote totals has already been felt, as this year’s results showed significant gains for several players languishing in the more-than-5%-but-still-well-below-75% range.
Democracy, and voting, have long been known to be imperfect means of aggregating group preferences. Thanks to the Baseball Hall of Fame, however, we can begin to understand the margins by which things tend to get a little weird.
Comments Off on Reddit AMA with Fabio Rojas, Professor of Sociology at Indiana University
Dr. Fabio Rojas is professor of sociology at Indiana University Bloomington. He is the author of From Black Power to Black Studies: How a Radical Social Movement Became an Academic Discipline (2007, The Johns Hopkins University Press). More recently, he is also the author of Theory for the Working Sociologist (2017, Columbia University Press). His research has focused on organizational behavior, political sociology, higher education, and health policy.
Professor Rojas recently appeared on Learn Liberty Live, sharing his expertise on the history of the civil rights movement.
Join us for a conversation with Professor Rojas on Reddit this Monday, February 20th, at 2:00pm EST, where you can ask him anything!
UPDATE: The AMA is now live!