Why Libertarians Should Be Concerned with the History of Political Thought
By Gene Callahan
The standard libertarian solution to
how people best can achieve the obvious benefits of mutual cooperation whilst
maintaining respect for the dignity and autonomy of the individuals comprising
any social group possesses the virtue of being the readily comprehensible
consequence of accepting a small number[1]
of intuitively appealing principles. However, what proponents regard as
admirably simple readily can appear simplistic if libertarian apologists
display little awareness of the location of their ideas within the great
currents running through the history of European political thought, a history
incorporating much profound contemplation of human nature and social reality.
If prominent proponents of
libertarianism appear to be ignorant of the great themes of Western political
theory, then its opponents can plausibly dismiss libertarianism as another naïve
attempt to deal with the complexity of political life with a set of simplistic
slogans. That may not matter in terms of motivating those who are already
libertarians, but for anyone attempting to broaden the appeal of
libertarianism, and especially for those addressing academic political
theorists, it is a significant problem.
To illustrate my point, I will present
a handful of topics from the history of political thought that, it seems to
me, are relevant for libertarian theorists. My sample is far from exhaustive,
and I make no claim that I have not overlooked examples of significantly
greater importance than those I address. Nevertheless, I believe that the
cases I have chosen are sufficient to demonstrate that the problem I am noting
here is not merely hypothetical.
Aristotle believed the
essence of political action is rational persuasion
The Greek Polis
The ancient Greek understanding of the
ideal character of life in a polis, particularly as it was articulated by
Aristotle, presents a challenge to the common libertarian view of politics. To
many libertarians, politics is the domain of force and coercion, contrasting
sharply with the voluntary character of market interactions. However, as
Aristotle saw it, the essence of political action is rational persuasion, and,
as such, politics is the ultimate realization of the ideal of human freedom.
Furthermore, there is an inherent equality between all political participants,
in the sense that politics as persuasion excludes relationships such as lord
and vassal. As Oakeshott writes: “For example, where political activity is
understood to be an activity of persuasion, it assumes or entails a certin
sort of egalitarianism. It is only ‘equals’ whom you try to
‘persuade.’ Command implies ‘unequals,’ subordinates” (2006, p. 95)
.
What was the Greek solution in cases
where persuasion ultimately failed? Their preference was for divorce rather
than force, so that the loser in the dispute exited from the polis. Thus, the
independent Greek cities present us with a form of social organization that
includes features we commonly associate with the existence of a state—for
instance, the presence of a territorially monopolistic legal authority—and
yet, at least prima facie, the ideal polis largely is not subject to the chief
anarchist objection to statism. After all, free people certainly cannot be
compelled to continue an association they prefer to end. I say largely because
libertarians are unlikely to condone the uncompensated and involuntary loss of
house and land suffered by the ostracized party. However, the institutional
adjustments that would be necessary to fully align such a polity with
libertarian principles are not radical; for instance, an anarchist polis could
require that, before joining the group, any prospective member must sign a
covenant by which he or she explicitly accepts the possibility of ostracism,
and there might be a provision allowing an exile to sell the fixed property he
must leave behind at the best price he can find.
A notable aspect of the Greek
conception of political life is that it runs counter to a common libertarian
view that sees politics as akin to a deleterious tumor that has unfortunately
invaded the social body and is sapping its health. If we define
“politics,” as the Greeks did, to be the rational dialogue by which the
members of a society strive to resolve their disagreements about which rules
ought to regulate their interactions with each other, then politics must be an
integral aspect of even the most libertarian of polities. A stateless society
organized around the belief that property rights are inviolable still will
require a means to reach broad consensus as to what conditions confer
ownership of a good to a particular individual, how property can be justly
acquired, and what sort of things are rights violations worthy of redress. I
do not believe that these questions can be decided “automatically,” as the
deductive consequences of some small set of first principles, because they are
inextricably linked with matters of social custom and expectations about what
sort of conduct is suitable in particular typified situations. For example, it
would be excruciatingly tedious to try to explicitly specify every detail of
what a restaurant patron is entitled to expect when ordering a meal. In most
cultures there are numerous, almost always unstated, things that a restaurant
is expected to provide in addition to the dishes listed on its menu, such as
plates, silverware, chairs, napkins, and sufficient time at the table to
finish the food, none of which are deductively necessary corollaries of its
only explicit offer, which is to sell customers food. For example, in a
country where people usually eat with their hands, such as Ethiopia, customers
should not feel short-changed if silverware is not available at some eatery.
On the other hand, in every country in which I have dined out, if a patron
ordered a meal and then, upon being served, was informed that the price listed
on the menu for his dishes only covered their preparation, delivery to the
table, and a brief opportunity to wolf the food down, and that there was a
significant charge for taking longer than a minute to eat, he’d rightly feel
cheated. But there is no inherent rights violation here – if that unusual
arrangement was made clear to every potential customer as they came in the
front door, or if it was customary in some society, it would be a perfectly
libertarian state of affairs.
Or consider pollution: the typical
libertarian solution to the problem it presents is to regard polluters as
property-rights violators. That is fine as far as it goes, but what level
of pollution constitutes a violation? If my neighbor can smell my backyard
barbecue and is put off by the scent of seared flesh, is he entitled to
compensation from me? That seems absurd, but where should the line be drawn
between that case and one where I commence a smelting operation on my land
that continually chokes my neighbor’s family with noxious fumes. I do not
see any way to answer such a question by turning to a priori ethical
principles; once again, I think the expectations set by custom are a necessary
component in any sensible resolutions of such disputes.
Machiavelli
Somewhat paradoxically, Machiavelli is
widely understood to be the most misunderstood of the great figures of
political theory. He is usually regarded, by those casually familiar with his
ideas, as an unscrupulous advocate of the pursuit of power, by whatever means
necessary, for its own sake. It probably will come as a shock to anyone who
has accepted the popular image of Machiavelli to learn that he was a staunch
republican, a believer in the rule of law, an advocate of citizen militias,
and a fierce supporter of Italian liberty.
Machiavelli -- fierce
supporter of Italian liberty
The apparently unbridgeable gap
separating the scheming, tyrant-aiding rogue that many readers of The Prince picture as its author, and the freedom-loving theorist
who composed the Discorsi, can be
closed by understanding Machiavelli in his context. Machiavelli saw that the
independence of the Italian city-states, which he believed to be the only
polities keeping alive the ancient vision that the pinnacle of human
achievement was for men to live in harmony as equal, free members of a justly
governed society, was in grave danger of being destroyed by “barbarians”
from beyond the Alps. The autocratic and decidedly un-republican kings of
France and Spain both had hankerings to seize the wealth and cultural
treasures of Italy for the greater glory of their own dominions. Furthermore,
he believed that there was faint hope that Italy, as things then stood, would
not fall to one or the other of its would-be masters. Not only were the
Italian states dwarfed by the foreign powers longing to absorb them, their
relations with each other were characterized by mistrust and internecine
bickering. Furthermore, Machiavelli’s own Florentine Republic could not even
present a consistent approach towards foreign affairs to other states, as each
of the frequent changes of leadership called for by its constitution could,
and often did, result in the new administration abandoning its predecessor’s
foreign policy, and adopting a new course it saw as far more sensible. While
any or even all of those directions might have worked for Florence on its own,
the outcome of veering first towards one, then towards another, then reversing
course, and so on, was that foreign powers came to see the republic as a
fickle international actor, unreliable as an ally and a meaningless signatory
to a treaty.
Machiavelli decided that the best
chance for the survival of Italian independence was for Italy, temporarily, to
adopt the style of statecraft that had brought the French and Spanish
barbarians so much success. Until the invaders were driven away, Italy needed
to be united by a strongman, a prince who would let no scruples or traditional
constraints to his power stand in the way of preserving and strengthening his
domain. Although acceding to the rule of such a man ran counter to
Machiavelli’s passionate belief that the full realization of human nature
required living in freedom as a citizen of a republic, he saw it as the only
feasible alternative to total Italian submission to either the French or
Spanish monarchy.
Once we understand Machiavelli’s
view of the situation he and his country faced, I think it is clear that his
work provides a stark depiction of a crucial conundrum that any serious
libertarian theorist must try to solve. It is doubtlessly a suitable
undertaking for a libertarian theorist to contemplate and expound on the
characteristics of an ideal libertarian polity, operating under conditions
where it is at peace with its neighbors, and where the very survival of its
members is not constantly threatened. However, if that society is suddenly
confronted by imminent aggression by an extremely powerful enemy, is it
acceptable to set aside any
libertarian principles if that abeyance will help prevent the far greater loss
of liberty that would follow military defeat? (Contending that a fully
libertarian society represents the optimal social arrangement for providing
defense avoids rather than answers that question. Unless it can be
demonstrated that it is impossible that there ever could arise any situation
in which any deviation from libertarian principles might improve the odds of
successful national defense, then the question as it stands calls for an
answer.) Let’s imagine that there is a hill at the entrance to the
polity’s chief harbor the occupation of which is indispensable to the
defense of the harbor. However, the owner of the hill refuses to allow its
defensive use. Is it necessary to sacrifice the liberty of all of the
polity’s citizens, including that of the property owner, in the interest of
libertarian purity? If one rejects that absolutism, then just what are
the limits as to what a society can require of its members? And how are they
to be set? Do the limits change with the gravity of the threat? If not, then
why not? (After all, the initial departure from full libertarianism was
justified by the gravity of the situation.)
Hobbes - firm believer in limited
government
Hobbes and Harrington
At first glance Hobbes may appear to
be one of the major political thinkers least congenial to libertarians. For
Hobbes, the crucial social issue was the maintenance of peace and civil order.
In his “state of nature,” each man has the “natural liberty” to
advance any of his own ends and to eliminate whatever obstacle another human
raises to achieving those ends in any way possible. The result, per Hobbes, is
the “war of all against all,” rendering life “nasty, brutish, and
short.” The desirability of social peace is so great that any rational
person ought to sign away his natural liberty to a single sovereign power
charged with safeguarding the social order and authoritatively resolving
interpersonal conflicts.
Perhaps as the result of living
through the English Civil War, Hobbes saw the end of preserving social order
as so important that the sovereign was justified in taking any action to that
end. For instance, Hobbes found it obvious that the state should enforce a
single religion on its subjects, since religious disagreement had been such a
potent source of civil conflict.
However, both the political
philosopher Michael Oakeshott, and the historian of political thought J.G.A.
Pocock, have noted that Hobbes actually forwards a limited view of the proper
role of the state. While the state is justified in doing whatever is necessary
to secure peaceful social relationships among its subjects, that is all it is
justified in doing. Hobbes never entertains the notion that the state might
offer a vehicle for perfecting the human condition. Governmental efforts to
reduce subjects’ cholesterol levels or increase their appreciation of opera
would appear absurd distractions from the state’s essential task, which is
difficult enough all by itself. As Oakeshott put it, Hobbes is not a
totalitarian because he is an authoritarian.
On the other hand, Hobbes’
contemporary James Harrington, the author of Oceana,
with his advocacy of limited, Republican government, initially seems more
admirable from the point of view of libertarianism. However, Harrington’s
vision of a republic as a necessary condition for its citizens’ realization
of the truly virtuous life, which arises from the millenialist element present
in his thought, suggests that there is no aspect of social affairs that is
inherently illegitimate as the subject of governmental interest. The
“proto-liberal” Harrington turns out to be a forefather of the modern
nanny state, while the “authoritarian” Hobbes offers a strong case for
rejecting government-directed social engineering.
Federalists and Anti-Federalists
The period from the end of the
American Revolution in 1783 and the ratification of the new US Constitution in
1788 saw a fierce debate between Federalists, who argued for a stronger
central government, and Anti-Federalists, who viewed their opponents’
designs as a scheme to reverse the advances in liberty that had been won
through war and sacrifice. As in our previous example, it initially seems
clear where the sympathies of modern libertarians ought to lie: The
libertarian “heroes” of this episode are the “wary of centralized
power” Anti-Federalists, a position embraced energetically by, for example,
Murray Rothbard. But, once again, a more informed view of the situation
muddies the waters. In fact, a prime motivation for the program of many
Federalists was the frequency with which the relatively autonomous, radically
populist state legislatures used their power to advance distinctly
un-libertarian agendas, particularly the gross violations of the property
rights of wealthy individuals through which demagogues sought to bribe the
newly empowered masses. The Federalists were strongly influenced by the
classical political theories of Aristotle and Polybius, who held that the
complete dominance of any one segment of the social order—the “one”
(unalloyed monarchy), “the few” (unalloyed aristocracy), or “the many”
(unalloyed democracy)—intrinsically would corrupt the dominant faction and
lead it to use the state for the personal ends of the faction’s members
rather than the common good. And that was precisely the process they saw
unfolding in the unrestrained democracy embodied by the state legislatures.
Their idea was that national political institutions would be less amenable to
the influence of local interests, and therefore could act as a check on the
tendency of state legislatures to become beholden to locally powerful lobbies.
(They obviously had not imagined K Street!) While it is undoubtedly true that
there were Federalists chiefly motivated by their desire to control the reins
of the more powerful federal government they advocated, there were also others
who embraced the proposed, new constitution on the quite libertarian ground
that it would serve to protect the rights of individuals from populist
violation.
Murray Rothbard -- a Libertarian who
supported Anti-Federalists
The tension existing between a
libertarian presumption in favor of local governance and the fact that, in
numerous concrete situations, local bodies actually may be less respectful of
the liberty of particular individuals than is some higher level of authority,
appears again in the context of the American Civil War. Notably, most
Rothbardians have vocally endorsed the justice of the South’s seccession,
citing the right of individuals, and consequently groups of individuals, to
self-governance. Their case is not without merit, but its advocates tend to
ignore the fact that one of the bones of contention was precisely that the
slave population of the South was being denied not only the right to
self-governance, but pretty much all of the other liberties enjoyed by those
slaves’ owners and their owners’ supporters, liberties which they valued
enough for themselves that they were willing to go to war rather than
surrender them. And the issue has new relevance with the increasing importance
of the EU in European politics, and devolution in the UK. Ought libertarians
to applaud the creation of the Scottish and Welsh legislatures as representing
the reduction of centralized state power, or denigrate them for providing a
means for the political classes of those Labour-dominated nations to enact
more interventionist legislation than they could in the UK as a whole? Are EU
measures to dismantle trade barriers between member states an objectionable
violation of national sovereignty or a laudable defense of an individual’s
right to trade with whomever he wishes?
References
Hoppe, Hans-Hermann (1988)
“Utilitarians and Randians vs Reason,” Liberty
(November): 53–54.
Oakeshott, Michael (2006) Lectures in the History of Political Thought, ed. Terry Nardin and
Luke O’Sullivan, Exeter: Imprint Academic.
[1]
A limiting case of this characteristic of libertarian thought is presented
by Hoppe’s claim that the whole libertarian programme is a logically
necessary conclusion of a single fact, namely, that people engage in
rational debates about social arrangements. (See Hoppe, 1988.)
Top 50 books of all time : by Old Hickory:- "I have limited the selection to the books I have read. I keep to the norm of not recommending to others books I have yet to read. Clearly, books I have not read by now suggests a judgement of some sort."