Universally Arguable Behavior

There are plenty of bad arguments which have the habit of being quite common. I would imagine that almost all of us feel this way about one argument or another. And I'm sure that quite a few of us would be astonished at the arguments that the others among us find silly. But there is one argument, for me, that sits like a shining emerald centered on the crown of human conceit; the argument that one should not be permitted to argue.

There is a particular and specific instance of this argument that, for me, really concretes how terribly silly this line of thinking is. And what proved surprising for me is that I first heard it from a man, when I was a young adult, whom I might have to regard as the most intelligent person I know. So, at the highest risk of sticking my foot in my own mouth, this is the maligned argument:

"We're men. I don't understand why we have any say at all in regards to abortion and women's bodies."

Ugh. Even typing that out made me cringe.

Let me say first that, as a libertarian, I think I'd have to ultimately come down to the conclusion that abortion should not be illegal - although I have some moral qualms about it. The arguments on both sides have not been completely fleshed out for me in a satisfactory manner. Having said that, this argument really misses the mark for me.

One problem is this; the argument seems to be rooted in the idea that women own their bodies and therefore they should be able to do whatever they want with it - including ending a life growing inside it. Of course, such an argument usually relies on a presumption that underscores the major contention about abortion in the first place. Those who are "pro-life" believe that humans in any stage of development are still humans - with all accompanying rights.

So, to those who believe in human-life at conception, that argument falls apart quickly. We could not make such arguments in favor of a woman who randomly kills a man on a street corner. "Why should we have any say in this? It's her body. It's her hand. If she wants to hold a knife with it and stab someone, why should we have any say in it?" This would not be a particularly convincing argument to most people. And to those who are pro-life, this is exactly the argument being made to them.

At this point the argument devolves into conversations about where human-life begins and the content of our moral obligations as guardians. Of course, those who are pro-choice could still make the more Rothbardian argument about abortion/abandonment and still salvage their self-ownership rhetoric (even if they conceded the "life at conception" point), but they very rarely do.

However, the way in which general arguments regarding abortion play out isn't really my focus at the moment. Rather, my real problem is with the idea that there would be some ethereal partition in a conversation of what constitutes (what I presume to be) universally human rights; on which one side women may offer their view(s), and on which the other side men may not. Now, obviously, men are not (currently) ever put in the position of such a personal moral dilemma. But that says absolutely nothing of their ability to contribute to a discussion regarding the contents of justice.

And we see variant forms of this argument all the time:

- Dismissals of arguments against war because one has not gone to war
- Dismissals of arguments against farm subsidies because one is not a farmer
- Dismissals of arguments against scientific theories because one is not a professional scientist
- Dismissals of arguments against anything because, well, how old are you? You haven't been alive long           enough

All of these are equally fallacious and abysmal; a mistake in criticizing the theorist as opposed to the content of his theories. We could surmise that someone without particularly intimate knowledge or experience is unlikely to have all the proper considerations and justifications ironed out. But that alone does not a bad argument make - even if some very intelligent people get in the habit of calling it as such.

Provocation: the Flight for Asylum

It's hard to say what will become of Edward Snowden. But, like many matters of political intrigue, public focus has drifted almost wholly onto the provocateur himself. In a more perfect world, our attention would stand at the doorstep of the largest secret espionage program ever uncovered. Instead we find it lounging at an airport in Moscow. Where will he go? What will he do? What should we do? These seem to be the most harrowing questions we can conjure. But like any moment where one might be baffled by public opinion, we're afforded an opportunity to learn something about ourselves and others.

I think the most interesting reactions have come from the "national security" wing of the Republican party. Since Obama's first election, the Right has been put in the rhetorical position of fending off the expansion of federal power. This, of course, is already a precarious position for them given their track record. At the very least, it gives a lot of Democrats plenty of ammunition to publicly gut various politicians at will.

The Snowden situation seems to be giving them enough rope to hang themselves from an even higher ledge. Now many of these same people are put in a position where they they must excoriate Obama and the federal government for this reach of power, or demonize Snowden's character (as he stands as a perceived threat to the security-state). And while there are plenty of people who simply fall on one side or the other, I have seen plenty of prominent individuals who have somehow managed to hold and defend both views, strongly, and simultaneously. It's a testament, I think, to our tendency to rationalize our views as opposed to actually changing them.

I won't speak to the arguments regarding espionage and federal power. But I do find something peculiar about the way Snowden's character is being demonized. Those who are critical of Snowden have mostly rationalized their opinions on the basis of where he has run to in order to seek asylum. They seem surprised, and often infuriated, that he might flee to China or Russia. This is no surprise, of course. A large part of the Right's "national security" wing was, and continues to be, fixed on China and Russia - the two great bastions of Cold War communism. But there are a couple of things worth noting.

Firstly, generally speaking, the Cold War is over. And while I have concerns about China, and have nothing particularly flattering to say about either country, I think, even without any other considerations, that it's a bit foolish to act as if he had gone to these places in the height of the Cold War. When the intonation of the accusation is that he is essentially working for or with the government of another country, it's important to keep historical context. If he had fled to Britain, no one would be concerned that he was a key part in a plan to re-colonize the Americas.

Secondly, if he really was part of some cooperative effort with such foreign governments, why would he go there in such a public manner? It would seem to be a pretty obvious and critical draw of suspicion regarding said countries. Indeed, why would he even step foot on their soil at all? We're a little too far into the digital age to not be able to understand that money and information can exchange hands from quite a distance. The idea that he would so publicly walk back into the open clutch of his political cohorts reads too much like a bad movie where the villain provides a detailed explanation of what he did and how he did it right before the hero makes his escape.

Thirdly, the first city he fled to (Hong Kong) is arguably the freest place on planet Earth right now. There are plenty of criticisms one can generally lob at China. Judging by many of the criticisms, though, you'd think Snowden left to go spill national secrets to communists under a statue of Mao. Meanwhile, he fled to a particular city that's far freer than any of the cities those criticisms are being lobbed from.

And, lastly, where exactly is it that one would expect someone fleeing the United States to go? They argue, "And look where he went. Of course. Right to countries that hate us. What more proof of his intentions do you need?" And I'll have to answer, "Quite a bit." The reciprocal claim seems to be that Snowden should have fled to a country with closer ties to the United States. And the problem with that, which I hope all of us could arrive at on our own, is that countries with closer ties would obviously extradite him back into the hands of our government. This, by far, would be the most logical reason why you would want to seek asylum in a country that may not particularly share the interests of the United States or its allies. For some, however, these dots don't seem to connect quite as easily.

As with anything else of this nature, I could be completely wrong here. He could really be a modern communist sympathizer, spilling tar into America's political thresher, and pounding shots of vodka with his comrades at a Moscow airport. Of course, given that he made contributions to Ron Paul's presidential campaign, I find that unlikely. Then again, Ron Paul very badly wants to stop that thresher too. Maybe there's an open stool sitting there for him at the end of that airport bar.

An American Civics Lesson

Over the years, I've had a healthy-growing distaste for our effervescent love affair with democracy. Each stripe on the colorful flag of populism seems like a strike against it. Creed, race, nation; football teams in a seemingly inevitable clash of culture, vying for our allegiance and merchandising dollars. From U.S. president to local pastor, majoratarian politics has just not been my bag.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm mistaken on that. Maybe there's a piece of information I just haven't processed yet, and all my opposition and frustration is just some unfortunate mistake, like an IRS accounting error. But then something grabs the attention of the American public, and the subsequent discourse kicks me right in the teeth. How silly of me. Some people really just are stupid. And, boy, the idiocy can really reach a majestic height. And, lest you believe I'm dipping too much into hyperbole, I'd like to turn your attention to the Trayvon Martin case.

As a formal disclaimer, I'd like to say that I (and the vast majority of us for that matter) do not know what happened in actuality. So none of my criticisms are on the basis of what did or did not happen. What I would like to draw attention to are some of the claims of many others (particularly regarding certain hypotheticals). And I won't even go into the nuances of positive law here (because God knows the people making the claims have made no attempt to grasp them anyways).

So, if I were to look at much of the discourse on this subject and view it as an American Civics class, here are ten things I would have learned:

1. Breaking the codes of conduct for your local neighborhood watch is illegal.

2. You're legally bound to said codes even if you're not on "watch".

3. 911 operators have executive authority (on par with police officers no less).

4. Investigating or stopping a potential crime is something that only police officers have the authority to do.

5. Following someone qualifies as assault and may be physically defended against.

6. Confronting someone verbally as to their intentions qualifies as assault and may be physically defended against.

8. Your life cannot be legitimately threatened unless you have already sustained serious bodily injuries.

9. One may not use a lethal (external) weapon unless being attacked by someone with another lethal (external) weapon.

10. Once it has been ascertained that use of a lethal weapon is necessary, one must use it in a non-lethal fashion.

Class dismissed.

Confusion: Freedom, Divided

I'm not sure if it's a specifically American phenomenon, but, culturally, we seem particularly fascinated with stories of failure and redemption. And more often than not, that archetype is a very public one. A personal or moral mis-step can quickly start the timer running on an individual's fifteen minutes of fame. And when the public persecution has exceeded its welcome, we are left with a phoenix or a heap of ash.

Under one of those piles of ash lays a woman known as Paula Deen. Her old-school "homestyle" cooking has brought her to the fringes of public attention on a few occasions. But, for the most part, she is best known for her books and cooking show(s) - that is until she made the mistake of admitting to the use of racial epithets in the past. This, coupled with a couple of other incidents, has brought her back to the focus of public attention. With her fated cross planted firmly in the hillside and the public's torches well in-hand, Paula's future does not look particularly promising. But before we all watch her boat completely capsize, I'd like to take a moment to take the awkward position of defending both her supporters and detractors.

A fair amount of her supporters are haranguing her critics with appeals for freedom of speech. They believe that she has a right to say such things, even if they disagree with them. And many of her critics completely acknowledge this, but claim that she's not being censored. Instead, they say, it is just the free market at work. Her supporters, of course, claim that it is still a free-speech issue, and that punishing someone for their words by threatening their livelihood is a way of restricting free speech.

I think I want to say that both kinds of people are correct in some ways. On the one hand, of course we should all have the right to speak freely (even if that speech is detestable). And it's true enough that Paula's detractors don't seem to be calling for literal censorship. Is there, however, anything to the argument about how threats of boycott (or the organization of boycott) stand in the way of such freedoms as well? Well, yes and no. I think we can safely say that it's not a literal restriction of freedom. So it fails on its most base claims. On the other hand, it's fairly obvious that it's a form of social coercion of some sort. But whether such types of coercions are good or bad is a different story.

For instance, let's say we have a person that is very rude, obnoxious, and cruel. All of his social exchanges are inflammatory - that is to say, when is isn't just plainly ignoring the other individual(s). Let's say this man opens a garage service to the public. After more than four weeks, no customers have come into the shop.

What are we to think of this? We have good reason to believe that the reason he has no customers is that he's known as such an obnoxious person. In fact, even if he offers relatively good service, and is even nice to his customers, we could imagine that people will have formed opinions that aren't very flattering. Is this a free speech issue? If it is, who is violating his speech? Is it his would-be customers? Can we force people to purchase his services? What about their freedom to trade and associate with the people they wish? And if "would-be" customers are the violators of freedom here, then how should we sift them out? It would seem that we would need to actually determine their intentions to separate them from people that wouldn't have used his services regardless.

You can see why trying to talk about such things as actual violations of free speech is somewhat problematic. But does the accusation completely fall apart? I don't think it does. We are obviously concerned with others and their ability to be independent and to provide for themselves. And many of us believe that tolerance is an important virtue, especially when in the company of those we vociferously disagree with. If we all chose to associate only with those we completely agreed with, the world would be a very despondent place indeed. In this light, it's easier to see the point some of her supporters are making.

To a lot of people looking in on these two views of the situation, they see diametrical opposition. But I don't think the two views conflict. Although the sentiments seem contrary, I believe they are not. They are atached to two particular aspects of the same problem. In that way, each view certainly has pull on the other, but they need not lie in opposition. On the one hand, our freedom to associate with whom we wish answers the matter of justice...what we have the enforceable right to do more generally. The argument that with-holding our money or consent from someone is a violation of their freedom falls apart rather quickly as we've seen. We should not force people to associate in particular ways.

On the other hand, the moral question of social coercion and tolerance could have a completely different answer. We have the right to think, say, and do (or not do) things that other people find reprehensible. And other people have the freedom to change the ways in which they associate with us because of it. What determines the appropriateness of such actions and reactions may be more delicate and nuanced. But surely they should be predicated on the actual problem at hand.

In the case of Paula Deen, it hasn't seemed (from what I can tell) like an overt, continued, and purposeful indiscretion on her part. She seems convincingly apologetic. And while I don't know anything about her personally, the little I do know doesn't seem to command a complete castigation of her. Now, maybe we should be mindful of those past discretions. But maybe we should show enough moral fortitude to display the kind of compassion and understanding that wouldn't reduce us all to some miserable existence where we live in total fear of the slightest mistakes in life. Perhaps, socially speaking, we would do well to have our proverbial guns drawn (we sometimes need to use them), but maybe we shouldn't unload a hail of bullets on anything we see move.

Splitting Hairs

While I feel that these kinds of questions, ultimately, fall apart for similar reasons, it's worth pointing out that the questions are, in fact, different.

"If your shoes are so good, why do you have to force everyone to purchase them at gunpoint?"

...is a little different than...

"If smashing your face in isn't a good thing, why am I doing it?"

The Path of Least Resistance

In recent years I've become more and more convinced that the soundness of particular arguments are more important than their rhetorical value. Unfortunately, in a world of soundbytes, memes, and an ever-shrinking fifteen minutes of fame, brevity is an increasingly important aspect in the world of swayed opinions. Arguments that essentially boil down to one-liners can be particularly powerful, much like the jokes of stand-up comedians. They can put forth what appears to be a casually obvious absurdity to prove a specific point. Of course, the problem is that when all its underlying assumptions are unbound, the line of thought often quickly falls apart. The truth is that, while the illustration of such apparent absurdities may take the audience captive, they are often imaginatively fragmented and unrealistic. And by dosing each other with such arguments, even if they offer us short term victories, we are simply teaching people to accept bad arguments in the long run.

What got my wheels turning on this was the Lind piece on Salon from a few days ago - "The Question that Libertarians Just Can't Answer". A question which, by the way, was not only irrelevant in many ways (to the greater argument for libertarianism), but was actually easily answerable without too much reflection. The burning question: "If libertarianism is so great, why hasn't any country anywhere in the world ever tried it?" Now, apparently, this is being seen as a quite damning question by most non-libertarians. The question was certainly rhetorically effective in that sense. But I felt it to be more frustrating than anything - in that, at its base, it seemed somewhat ambiguous, and even nonsensical.

For instance, this question relies terribly on a term which covers a pretty wide spectrum of ideas. A libertarian could be a minarchist, a liberal, a socialist, a classical liberal, a paleo-conservative, an anarcho-capitalist, a voluntaryist, a free-market anarchist, and so on. Some may quibble that such variance lies only in degrees but anyone familiar with these groups knows that there are substantive differences between them. And, depending on which group you subscribe to, you could make some pretty remarkable arguments that your ideas (or at least substantial parts of them) are certainly being incorporated in most Western societies at this point (especially if you fall within the first few groups I mentioned). So even from the start, we see this lack of defining in our terms.

What kinds of presumptions lie in such a question? It seems to make the implicit claim that if libertarianism actually "works" (whatever sense of the word one wishes to employ) that at least some national governments would have adopted such policies. But some conceptions of libertarianism see national governments themselves as the antithesis of libertarian ideals. From that view, the question becomes something like, "Why doesn't oligopoly dissolve itself?" - to which they might all heartily answer, "Haha!" This was essentially the overture Tom Woods made to the question. And it's a powerful one.

Another possible implicit claim in the question is that arguments about institutions are purely utilitarian - ie, the correct one is the the one that "works". Now, I think there is at least somewhat of a false dichotomy when it comes to utilitarian vs. deontological concerns, but I digress. To the extent that the argument for libertarianism is a seemingly non-utilitarian one, the question, again, fails to make any semblance of sense. We can view libertarian ideals as not necessarily just a means to a particular end, but part of the ends themselves. In a more straight-forward example, we could ask, "If killing and stealing didn't work, then why do so many people kill and steal?" Well, that's certainly a question worth entertaining, but is it really an effective argument against, well, killing and stealing? I'd venture to say it's not.

And this only begins to scratch the surface of how truly problematic the question is. Another implied assumption seems to be that the present is optimal, for lack of a better term. We seem to be fed a question of, "Look - if this thing is so great, why don't we see it?". But that's a silly kind of question on its face - one that could have been asked about anything we currently cherish at some point prior to its advent. We could have, for instance, asked the same questions about democracy or the abolition of slavery at various points. That the world was entrenched in a certain paradigm at one point does not speak to other paradigms it could employ, or the justness of the current one. It takes a keenly myopic view of humanity's historical progression to lapse into such frivolities - particularly when one's mantle is "Progressive".

I don't point these things out in an effort to just bash the people I disagree with. Libertarians use the same kind of rhetorically short-hand arguments all the time. And I'm just as guilty as the next guy of doing it from time to time. But I think it's good to make a concerted effort not to, even if you believe it gives those who do engage in it an upper hand. If you really think the best arguments should prevail, and you also believe you have the best arguments, then you should really try to foster that kind of environment whenever you can.

To Protect and Serve

On a radio show I listen to frequently, I've noticed that a lot of hay has been made over the technical obligations of public servants to the people. The critique flows all the way up to the high-water mark of prominent, elected officials. But it also trickles down to the fingers of service and enforcement. In either case, but especially the latter, I think the critique is somewhat misguided.

The main thrust of the argument lies in the conception of government as a social contract, where people exchange their power and allegiance for protection and stability. Or so the story goes. The condemnation comes out of the fact that public servants are not (enforceably) obligated to live up to their end of the bargain in many ways. For instance, police officers can not be physically required to answer a distress call. That may, of course, result in such an officer losing his job. But, nonetheless, the contention seems to be over whether such servants should be physically forced to serve.

As a libertarian, it's easy to get caught up in that argument. Personal assets are being expropriated to provide for such services. And, contrary to the much of the senseless progressive mantra, libertarians just as well as anyone should expect to at least receive the services they've paid for (even if they are against the arrangement to begin with). But, it is important to consider that there may be limits to what justice can demand. We're certainly entitled to compensation for these expropriated assets. But the question of "How?" is a more complicated one.

Let's suppose that you and another individual write up a contract for lawn work. The other individual never delivers on his promise and, alas, you have already paid him ahead of time for these services. Justice would seem to demand, if nothing else, that you would be repaid. Or, if amenable to both parties, servicing the existing contractual obligations may be sufficient. What would not be acceptable, however, is tying the other individual up, leash and chain, to force him to perform those services. This is because, while that individual may owe you something, he is still a human being. And unless he is volitionally egregious with respect to the rights and well-being of the others around him, enslaving him in such a manner is beneath human dignity. Without further details, justice only seems to demand compensation in this case.

Now let's consider the same situation. But, instead, the other party has forced you into such a contractual agreement under duress. Later you're put in a position where you are able to extract justice. What is its composition? Well, clearly, we could at least demand compensation for whatever was expropriated under duress. Can we then also force such a man to actually perform those contracted services? Unless you're working with a highly punitive framework of justice, it's hard to see why that should be the case. It seems appropriate, perhaps, to demand additional compensation for the anguish you might have endured in being threatened in such ways. But it's not clear that force or incarceration are called for (unless that individual should refuse to compensate).

There will, of course, be people who disagree pretty strongly with that. But most radical libertarians are fairly skeptical if not critical of forced performance in contracts. Now, understandably, we're talking about a contract that is not only invalid but carried out under duress. So it's easy to understand how one can get angry at the person on the other side of the gun barrel. I guess what I'm saying is that such reactions speak more to our anger and desire to punish than they do to the content of justice. Maybe my view of a "truly libertarian" world differs, but in the world I envision, people are not enforceably obligated to perform as per their contracts. Restitution, not retribution - this speaks to the content of justice.