Etica & Politica /
Ethics & Politics, 2003, 2 http://www.units.it/etica/2003_2/NARVESON.htm Minarchism
1. The Question How much of a state should we have? The libertarian
is committed to the general answer "very little - at most!" He
agrees with Henry David Thoreau: "that government is best which governs
least." The question is whether he also agrees with Thoreau’s further
suggestion - "That government is best which governs not at all!".(1) On that
point, libertarians are deeply divided. The purpose of the present essay is
to explain why both sides in this debate have the appeal they do, and to suggest
that the theoretical appeal lies with the Anarchist side, while the practical
appeal draws libertarians to the minarchist side. None of this will be
surprising, I would guess, to the reader. But a clear explanation of this
superior theoretical appeal, as I see it, of anarchism will, I think, be of
some use to some readers, and perhaps even to the writer. 2. What Libertarians Agree On All libertarians, in the by now fairly well
understood contemporary sense of the term, espouse the Liberty Principle, which
can be variously stated as a principle of rights or, as many of us
would insist, equivalently as a principle about duties. The statement
in terms of rights will say some such thing as this: that everyone has a
fundamental, general right to liberty, limited only by the like right of all
others. The other way of stating it will be some such as this: We are
morally forbidden to initiate force or fraud against our fellows. The two
formulations may be argued to be equivalent because a right is nothing more than
a status such that others have a duty to refrain from interfering with one’s
doing of the thing to which one has the right. What gives us that status is
an interesting question, and an important one. However, most libertarians do
not have a useful answer to that question. (2) "Because we are
free", say, or "born free," or some such is unhelpful, since
as a matter of fact many of us are, in any useful appraisal of the situation,
not free in many of the respects in which libertarians think they ought to be
so, and yet that fact doesn’t keep us from saying that they ought to be. What matters is this: the liberty principle is in
substance a principle about when it is permissible to deprive people
of freedom. What is unique about our view is not that we think that the fact
Jones is trying to murder Smith does give us good reason for applying
force, as much as needs be, to prevent Jones from doing this - one would hope
that any sane theory would say that. Rather, it is that we don’t allow any
other kind of consideration to justify such application than that one
person is, or is in the way of, planning to, etc., use force or fraud against
others - apart from the one kind of case where the individual against whom he
proposes to use it is himself using it against someone else who, in turn, is
not doing so to someone still else. Sorry for the prolixity of the latter
statement, but part of the point of doing so is that to be precise about this
is no easy matter. While it is not easy, there is what libertarians
take to be an implication of our view that turns out to be of crucial
importance for the present inquiry - and a great many other inquiries as
well. Namely, we take it that what we usually call "robbery" is
itself an example of the sort of condition we want to disallow, and take to
constitute reason to justifying counteraction. In other words, we think that
Liberty implies Property. And since the present subject is hardly even
discussable without some such principle, it is best to pause, once again, to
explain why we think this is so - and this time my explanation is far from
pleonastic or embarrassingly obvious. In most cases where we claim to be the
"owners" of something, our claim is grounded on a previous
transaction, or set of them, with some other persons. I walk to the store,
select a pair of shoes, hand the man my money or credit card, sign the chit,
and I emerge with my shoes, and he with what used to be my $100 or whatever.
Two points distinguish this little story. The first is that the exchange
itself is wholly voluntary. The man in the shop didn’t have to be in
that business; he presumably chose to (OK: maybe his wife insisted he
get a job, but we hope, at least, that his marriage is voluntary!) And
second, the legitimacy of this as a justificatory account of why, as of now,
the shoes are said to be "mine" and the money "his"
depends rather importantly on the situation ex ante. The money, prior
to the transaction, was mine, the shoes were his (that is, the
store’s). But how came that to be so? We will point to previous voluntary
transactions, for several rounds. Eventually, though, we will exit entirely
from the realm of two-or-n-person transactions and find ourselves - where?
The erstwhile theoretician now welcomes us to the "state of
nature." In this condition, things are different. Something comes to
belong to Jones without the help of a previous transaction with Smith.
And how is this to work? Briefly, we suppose that Jones perhaps made
something or found it, and that this fact is what made it
his. OK: but why does it do so? Especially if we got back to a real,
honest-to-goodness "state of nature" there will, of course, be no
published rules, no courts or police - as we might say, "no
anything" in the way of political organization. Some among those who would say this latter will
claim that if we are out of the law, we are just out of it, and nothing
useful can be said. Those who say that cannot be libertarians. For
libertarians think that if there are courts and laws, we know what
they should say, and if they don’t say it, we want to throw them in the
dustbin and start over. In short, we don’t think these arrangements stem from
that kind of human "institution." What we do think, though, is
this: If indeed someone has literally made something, then insofar as
that’s how it came to be, it "belongs" to him - the one who made
it. Or if he found it, then we want to know whether he found it in
such a way that nobody else had any prior claim on it. Now, some theorists
think there is no such case: that everybody in the world automatically has a
"natural" claim to natural resources at large. To make this
particular story short, I am going to advise everyone tempted to say this to
think again. The correct story, in short, is that nobody has any
claim on it, in the absence of someone’s finding it and undertaking to do
something with it - in short, to take it into his life and invest, as it
were, some of himself in it; and once that person does do that, then anyone
else coming later who proceeds to help himself to these of that item without
so much as a by-your-leave would be assaulting the maker or finder. In
short, he would be violating our liberty principle, for he would be using
what amounts to force against someone who was trying to continue on in a
series of actions undertaken by himself, which actions were wholly benign. The leftist will insist they are not
"wholly benign", no doubt - but where is his argument? He appeals
to the "principle" that nature just naturally belongs to everyone,
but why on earth should anyone think that? Mind you, even John Locke thought
with the "leftists" on that point. His idea here is religious, and
doesn’t offer much help to the would-be leftist: God, it seems, gave
everything to us all in common, you see! (3)
Of course there are some questions about this. Like, how did he know that?
What if God gave it to somebody else – the Hindus, say, or those
so-and-so’s, the ____’s! Of course Locke would claim that he must have
done the right thing and given it to the good guys - thus illustrating once
again the total uselessness of religious appeals in morals. Anyway, Locke supposed he had an argument to get
around this common-ownership problem, one that would nevertheless shore up
our claims to the fruits of our own efforts. It is not clear how well Locke
would have succeeded in this if the starting premise had been right. But
after all, it’s not. The obvious way to go is to point out that stuff is just
stuff – it isn’t yours or mine or everybody’s, it’s un-owned. Thus,
nobody at all has any claims on it, unless and until somebody gets in there
and does something with it, such as turn it into a motel. (4) In short, the coast is, so to say, clear in the
State of Nature, and thus, the argument just given is definitive - if, that
is to say, we accept the liberty principle itself as our guide. But that is
what we are presumptively doing here - though I for one refuse to say that it
is a "self-evident" principle or that it expresses a "natural
right" in any other sense than that it is the right rule to use, and is
so independently of what any government or institution may tell us. (I want
to say that we must defend these basic principles via the right version of
the "social contract" but to spell that out would take us much too
far afield for present purposes. I do try to make some headway in several
other places. (5)
If everything has to be voluntary to pass moral
muster, and if property rights come into it in the way I have sketched, then
let us notice that the size of the group of persons with whom one does
voluntary business is irrelevant, as is the technical side of things - how
one produces what one sells, and so on. Then the Property Principle, as we might
call it, being a "theorem" of the Liberty Principle, taking the
latter to be a sort of "axiom," is very strong indeed. And if it
is, we are then edging up toward presenting a huge problem for what is
usually known as The State. 3. The State What we mean by ‘the state’ is this: an agency,
whose membership is an identifiably smallish proper subset of all the people
there are in the community or society over which this state rules, which has
(approximately, as may be) enough political power to make rules
["laws"] which apply to all, and which those people may be coerced
into compliance with. Or in short, as many of us say, the state has a
"monopoly of coercion" in the society in question. The trouble is,
that’s too short, for in any society, at any given time, some people
will be coercing others without the state’s preventing this, or even being
able to do so. However, those private coercers do not claim to have got into
their positions by virtue of holding political power - and if they do,
then they are agents of the state and we don’t have a counter example. But of
course, that raises the question, "when is power political power?"
Again, a satisfactory discussion of that would also take us too far afield.
However, there is one proposed answer, or part of an answer that we will of
course need to reject straight off: that political power is legitimate
power over others. We, and Thoreau, aren’t going to accept that this agency
really has genuinely legitimate power. So we’re going to have
to say, lamely, that somehow it has the ability to use coercion and
"get away with it"; that is, the people over whom they use it will
not complain, or at the least, nobody will stride in and try to prevent the
agents of the government from coercing the person in question in the way in
question. The ship of state sails on a sea of passive acquiescence by its
people. I shall assume that in some such way, we can arrive at a wholly
"neutral" analysis of the notion of political power and hence of
The State. It is easy to see why the libertarian is going to
have a problem with The State, on the face of it. After all, the state gets
its way by compelling people to do what it wants them to do, and it takes no
back-talk. Under what circumstances could it get away with that, if we
are right? To this there is a perhaps promising answer: it could "get
away with it" in our eyes if it used its coercive power only
to deal with what we would agree are miscreants: murderers, rapists, robbers,
defrauders. In short, as Locke proposed, the state would be in the business
of enforcing the Law of Nature, otherwise known as our Liberty
Principle. Or - oops, wait a minute! - more precisely, the state would be an
agency which was created for the purpose of doing a better job of that
than we could do on our own. Locke thinks that if we go it alone, there
will be inevitable and interminable arguments about who owns what, how much
so-and-so is to be punished for violating the LN in such-and-such a way or
how seriously, and so on. He proposes to fix all this with a set of uniform
laws for all, a judiciary that will impartially settle controversies, and a
police force/etc. that will apply the law uniformly to all. (6) Or -
oops, wait a minute! - more precisely, the state would be an agency which was
created for the purpose of doing a better job of that than we could do on
our own. Locke thinks that if we go it alone, there will be inevitable
and interminable arguments about who owns what, how much so-and-so is to be
punished for violating the LN in such-and-such a way or how seriously, and so
on. He proposes to fix all this with a set of uniform laws for all, a
judiciary that will impartially settle controversies, and a police force/etc.
that will apply the law uniformly to all. But there are, as it is surely familiar to all
readers, two problems with this. One of them is big, and the other one is
absolutely crucial, though subtler than the other. The Big problem is, of
course, the old "who guards the guardians?" issue: How do we devise
one of these things without it getting out of hand and coming up with all
kinds of silly laws having no justification at all from the Law of Nature?
How can we be so sure these institutions will indeed be fair,
impartial, etc. - after all, the fact that that’s what we wanted when
we made the thing hardly assures us that it will be that way in fact
(and of course no end of history suggests that pessimism of a fairly tall
order is called for on this point). That’s the big problem. Locke’s own
solution, such as it is, is to call for democracy (more or less), and that
remains the popular solution to this very day and, apparently, for some time
to come the inevitable wave of the future. As we are slowly beginning to
appreciate, though, democracy, far from being a real solution to these
problems, shows every sign of being likely to exacerbate the original
condition, virtually without limit. (7)
From this point of view, a potentially anarchist
objection to government is: government can’t work, in precisely the way it
was called in to work. There’s no way around it, and we’ll do better without
it. The potentially minarchic response is: Well, there’s no real alternative,
so let’s just get to work and try to fix it so it works at least tolerably
well. If we put the matter in those terms, it is clear that there is much
work to do. The anarchist has to show that his idea is even possible -
that it even makes sense to suppose that we could have civil peace,
order, and prosperity without the restraining hand of government. The
minarchist, on the other hand, has to convince us that there is a real
prospect of containing government, once it’s let loose on us. We’ll return to those issues, if too briefly, below.
But meanwhile, this now brings us to the heart of the matter. We can put this
"heart of the matter" in two sets of terms, though I think they’ll
really end up equivalent. One way is to delve back into Locke himself and
focus on an interesting restriction he proposes: "Thirdly, The
Supreme Power cannot take from any Man any part of his Property without his
own consent." (8)
I suppose many readers of Locke are more or less asleep by the time they get
to that passage, it being on the next-last page or so. But in fact, it’s a
wake-up call, clarion and fortissimo: for if indeed we take it literally, it
is very difficult to see how we could have government at all. After
all, government as we know it gets its income from taxes. Locke and the
minarchists after him want government to do something, for sure. But
neither Locke nor we are unrealistic enough to think that people can be got
to do all those things - some, after all, rather dangerous! - for nothing.
Where is the money to come from? And suppose that this or that man objects to
paying the bill that the State hands him for its fairly extensive (even on a
minarchist rendering of it) services? Well, according to Locke, he can just
say No, and that’s that. And worse yet, it certainly looks as though he’s
right! After all, our Principle says that nobody can impose a net harm, a
worsening, of someone else’s situation. The robber is wrong because he leaves
you worse off, and leaves you no real choice in the matter either. The
government - well, it too, in our experience, leaves you worse off with no
real choice in the matter - doesn’t it? And doesn’t it do this even on
the best account of what it does – that is, the minarchist account? Even if
the government doesn’t go outlawing the sale of sausages less than 20 cm.
long (9)
or requiring that we refrain from smoking pot, it still looks as
though it is going to be taking money from some people who don’t want to
spend it for that purpose, even if it’s the jolly good purpose of
apprehending gangsters. Just to keep the point from getting sidetracked,
here’s an example of the state at work, concerning a certain social club in
Edmonton, Alberta (Canada) whose laudable purpose is to provide a social
outlet for ex-alcoholics. So no alcoholic beverages were served, but
otherwise they drank soft drinks, played billiards, smoked and chatted.
Trouble is, the state doesn’t allow smoking in most public places: to do
this, you have to get a liquor permit. And the liquor board says that you can
only get a liquor permit if you actually serve liquor. So either the club
closes or it sells booze, thus defeating the entire point. That’s the state
at work, folks; multiply by a zillion or so, and you get the point. Keeping
the State to the straight and narrow is evidently going to be at least very
near to impossible, and has never in fact happened. The basic problem is
simple: give a kid a match, and what can you expect, especially if the people
who watch over him to keep him in line are - more kids! Now, Locke is famous for his theory of
"implicit consent." The idea is - Hey, we get all these benefits
from the State and so of course we won’t object to paying our share,
right?! Err … well -- wait a minute - not so fast! Who says
we’re getting our money’s worth? Not, usually, the taxpayer himself; indeed,
he is rarely asked, and he can be forgiven for not expecting much attention
to be paid to his answer. And what if Locke, or his government, puts the
question to him - will they stay for an answer? You can just bet that the
answer, in practice at the least, will be in the negative. 4. The Problem Stated in terms of Rights We need to generalize this, and it is best, I think,
to do so by shifting to another vocabulary. The right to liberty,
which we all have if the libertarian theory is correct, is what we have come
to call a "negative" right. Such a right imposes on others the duty
not to do something, the duty to refrain from intervening to
prevent the rightholder from doing as he would like, thus allowing him
to do that. (That indeed is all that "allowing",
"permitting", etc., come to.) Now, as the terminology suggests, we can also define
another idea of rights: "Positive" rights. If a negative right
imposes negative duties, duties not to do something, then the idea of
a positive right, as we would expect, is to impose positive duties,
that is, duties to do something. You can satisfy a negative right,
insofar forth, by pulling up your cot and going right to sleep: that way, you
murder no one, you cheat no one, you rob no one. But if there are positive
rights, that’s a different story altogether. Positive rights say, "get
off your tail, chaps, there’s work to do! Get with it! Save this life! Feed
that starveling! Help this innocent lady unhand that villain!" Etc. It is sometimes supposed that the positive/negative
distinction is the same as the liberty/welfare distinction. But that is a
mistake, even though those who make it usually make it in a way that doesn’t
look at though it’s going to matter all that much. However, it also can
matter "all that much" and the present case is the locus
classicus for such mattering. For consider now the Right to Liberty
itself. If it’s negative, then, as we would hope, it says to others, "as
long as you refrain from molesting, assaulting, etc., you’re OK, we
won’t bother you!" But what if it’s positive? Then things may be
a lot different. If Smith over there has a positive right to liberty, then
suppose that he’s in real trouble - that horrible person Jones is enslaving
him. Now what do the rest of us do? Well, if we mean it about positive
rights, then it seems we have to go and help free Smith. We must
- that is, we may be compelled to help, coerced into helping,
should we be inclined to put up a snit about it. And so this fussy little
question of whether the basic right to liberty is negative or positive turns
out to be not so fussy and little after all. It is also, I take it, obvious, when you think of
it, which version is basically right - namely, the negative
version. The Principle of Liberty says that the only reason justifying
compulsion over you or me or anybody is to prevent our coercing somebody
else, or perhaps to punish us for some previous coercion we are guilty
of. Well, our Ordinary Law-Abiding Citizen, we will suppose, is guilty of no
such thing. So how, now, can the State come along and say, "Pay up, or
else!" ? Clearly, it can’t. Anything along that line violates his
liberty right. The internal content of the liberty principle rules out
interpreting it as implying basic positive rights. (Non-basic positive
rights are another matter. By our own agreements, we often bind ourselves to
do this or that positive act. Most of economic life would be impossible were
it not so. But the point is that these bindings are self-imposed. And our
question is whether any such thing can be imposed by others at large.
That is what, it appears, we must answer in the negative.) Maybe you think that person A is guilty of some
crime and that A deserves to be apprehended and punished, and maybe you’re
willing to join a posse and help round him up, or to pay something to
somebody else for doing so. Yes - but then again, maybe you’re not. And if
you aren’t, then what? The answer appears to be: it’s game over for the
State. It appears that on Locke’s own principles, there simply is no way to
have a state, however Lockean. Now, the Minarchist, in principle, would appear to
have no choice but to admit taxes for the sole purpose of defending liberty
as a justifiable incursion on people’s rightful liberty. But putting
it that way should make him uncomfortable. Let’s pause a moment to appreciate
just how uncomfortable he should be. How much of this sort of
incursion is allowed? And how extensive should be the set of persons
whom our non-volunteer must be expected to help with this de-tyrannization
program? Of course, once we have a state set up, the answer presumably will
be: all the other folks inside that circle, your fellow citizens. Oh? Well,
but wait a minute! Plenty of people outside that circle are also, we may
imagine, in big trouble and could use some liberating. Why does the buck, as
it were, stop at the borders of this state? For after all, the state is
artificial; its boundaries are determined, we must suppose, by whatever political
principles led to its existence - and in our case, remember, it was supposed
to be the Libertarian Principle. But that principle says that everybody
is entitled to general liberty, not just the particular n thousands or
millions who happen to be there (pointing at the map of Lichtenstein
or Canada, say). Well, you see the difficulty. When we turn contemptuously to
those absurd Leftists of whom we like to make fun, one of the things we say
to them is: so why aren’t you contributing 95% of your income
to help the poor in Bangladesh (etc.)? Now, liberating people from political
oppression may seem, as it were, "easier" than feeding them, but if
we bear in mind, as our sample case, the cost of the current (as I write) war
in Iraq to the Americans, it will perhaps not be so obvious that promoting
general liberty around the world is going to be the least bit cheaper than
feeding the billions. You get the idea. We would want, ideally, a principled answer
to this question, and what we’ve got is pretty lame. Or at least, it is
unless the defender of the State, however minimal, can come up with some nice
elegant way of picking out just the set of people such that we have to
be ready to help them become free, but are off the hook regarding all
the rest. Note, by the way, that we are never "off the hook"
so far as negative liberty is concerned. But there you see the advantage of
the Liberty idea: we can live up to the requirements of (negatively
construed) liberty without lifting a finger – a pretty comfortable "hook,"
really. No such thing, though, with positive liberty - until such time as we
live in a perfectly libertarian world, right? Uh, uh .... 5. Can we justify the State? So we turn, briefly, to this interesting question,
which really amounts to a request for justifying the State. And once you
start in on this, you’ll find, if you do your homework carefully, that, as
the boys say, it ain’t easy! Remember, we are now persuaded that
"negative" liberty is where it’s at. Now, negative liberty, to be
sure, allows you to impose obligations on yourself if you want. It allows
you, in particular, to take on duties and obligations in the course of
voluntary arrangements with others - the duties are part of the arrangements,
in a lot of cases. So one thought is to buy into the Lockean Social Contract,
as it were, and hold hands with a certain set of thirty million or so people
and agree with all and only those people that we will jolly will help
protect their rights, provided they agree to protect ours, too. Even
if we do this, let it be pointed out, it is not obvious that we as yet have a
state. And anyway, suppose that seventy-three people excuse themselves from
this little ceremony - as is their right, remember? Now what? Well, on
the face of it, you can’t touch those folks (that is to say, you can’t touch
them for the taxes which you’re all agreeing to impose on each other). Which
precisely means, though, that those are not taxes as we understand the
term. What to do? We can take the view that those folks are being unreasonable,
and we’ll just march over and "explain" to them - in the spirit of
the traffic cop "explaining" why you are about to get the ticket -
that, you see, you are, as you evidently failed to realize, getting a good
deal here and so you’ve jolly well got to help pay up... Better, though,
would be to just stuff it and just take their money and be off - as is
familiar to all of us taxpayers, right? But – gosh! - I think I just lost
sight of Libertarianism, you know? So now what? I can think of two and only two
suggestions. One is to lay down a really reasonable criterion for when we may
do what looks a lot like imposing on somebody but maybe isn’t really, after
all, in the end. And the other is to bite the bullet and admit that the state
just isn’t legitimate, but considering how they come about, well, OK ... So, let’s look at each. 6. The State as a Good Deal Since Hobbes those of us in the know on these
matters will be aware that there is basically just one way of justifying the
State. How, you may ask, is the state justified? Well, the
same way that anything is justified: by demonstrating that it is, from the
point of view of the persons involved, better than alternatives. In the case
of the State, the persons involved are, of course, everyone in its
borders. It doesn’t really matter much what those borders are for this
purpose, though. If you could really establish that an institution for a
State of respectable size would have the property in question, it would be
hard to quibble with the claim that that institution was justified. Right.
But … can we do this? In rather abstractly general terms, let us say that
S (the institution we’re talking about) is justified if and only if S is
better for all concerned. The state is coercive and affects non-consenting
parties, so what we’re asking in the case of the state is for a demonstration
that, by gum, even taking into account its coercive properties the
state is a good deal from all points of view. Now, is this crazy, or what?
Well, not quite. For we can perhaps imagine that we have some sort of a
problem such that the only way to get us all to act the way we need to act to
solve it is to be coercive about it. Yet each person might find that
acceptable, perhaps. Let’s see how. The idea so far can be put in terms of Public Goods
theory. A Public Good, in the economist’s technical sense, is one whose
benefits "can’t" be confined to those who produce it, that is, who
pay the costs. There’s spillover: some people get the good who didn’t pay,
some pay who don’t get the goods. Problem! Now suppose that these are, not
goods, but bads - only public bads. So the people who benefit
from them don’t pay (much of) the cost of production. Example: robbers, who
cart off the money without paying for it, e.g. by working for it. Instead,
they free-ride on their victims. What’s worse, it isn’t just that those
victims don’t come out of it as well as they might, it’s that they come out
of it worse off, period. Very bad. Now, suppose that the citizen can
deal effectively with such people by being compelled to help pay the police
(or whatever): if the cost, even though involuntary (indeed, including the
costs of its being involuntary), is less than the benefit, we’re off and
running. Or at least, that’s what Hobbes and all the other
statists think. But they’ve failed to raise a rather important question:
mightn’t there be further options besides just the two – (a)
involuntary payments to the state, and (b) being robbed? Answer: of course!
The State cops are by no means the only way to protect yourself and your
property. (In fact, it’s becoming fairly well known that they actually aren’t
nearly as good, by any means, as privately hired police whose specific
duty is precisely to protect you and your property. (10) So what the argument really
has to prove is that no nongovernmental agency can equal the state on a
cost-benefit analysis. Now, that is indeed a tall order. So tall, indeed,
that I think it fair to say that the present consensus is that - contrary to
the blithe pronouncements of those who first started talking this way (such
as the economist Paul Samuelson) - it’s actually hopeless. Forget trying to
"justify" the State, then. (11)
6. Or as the Inevitable Outcome of Anarchy Some probably want to see a word or two here about
Nozick’s rather intricate argument, that initial anarchy would lead to a
minimal (or "ultra-minimal") state. (12) The argument is intricate,
indeed, and almost defies summary. We start with anarchy. Various protective
agencies spring up. But size is a natural advantage, in this peculiar biz -
you’re going to feel safer with a bigger firm, right? And in the end one firm
will have a monopoly. For reasons that remain obscure, this firm will feel
obliged to protect everybody while it’s at it, and perhaps to compensate
those who’d rather not but had no choice. One big trouble is that the premise
is highly questionable. Apple Computers still exists alongside mighty
Microsoft, and it is not at all obvious that little protection agencies won’t
flourish alongside big ones. In fact, come to think of it, they do right
now. Modern nations are awash with little protection agencies working
alongside the almighty state. Nozick’s argument is, as one would expect from
that writer, ingenious and induces head-scratching, but it doesn’t produce
much conviction. As an exercise in armchair social speculation, it’s cool; as
an argument for something we’re interested in, though, it doesn’t really make
it. 7. The State as a Gang you Can’t Get Rid Of There’s quite a different way to look at the state,
however, and on the face of it, a lot more plausible. On this view, we don’t
imagine that the state is "justified" - hah! But we ask instead, is
there any way to avoid it? It isn’t that the state is necessary for
producing some good thing we’d all like to have - it isn’t. It’s that the
social situation is such that there’s always a sort of power vacuum that
powerful and ambitious people will jump into, and there’s just no practical
way to prevent that. Therefore, what we should do is accept the state, but
try to minimize the damage. Perhaps minarchy would be a sort of lower limit
of such an effort. (13)
How we will do this is a nice question, when you
think of it. The State is a monopoly, with all the benefits that brings to
the governors - at the expense, of course, of the governed. Now, as Plato’s
character Thrasymachus assures us, the King, or for that matter the Members
of Parliament - indeed, for that matter the lowliest Civil Servant - are
basically in this thing to rob us as effectively as they can. But
don’t despair, folks! It has been noted that once a
country goes to the dogs, there isn’t much left for the king. Better, on
reflection, to let the people make some money, and then - ta-dah! - you can
skim a hefty bit off the top and if you’ve skimmed cleverly, you’ll end up
with a bigger income than if you tried to take it all! So we don’t come out of
it quite as badly as it may sound. (Well, yes - there are people like Idi
Amin, Saddam Hussein, Stalin, etc... but the ones in the know are
appreciating the superior long-term payoffs of good ol’
take-em-for-all-you-can democracy, and that does leave us something. Indeed,
democracy’s innumerable friends seem to be deluded into thinking that we are
actually wealthier because of our democracy. And, hey! What more can
you ask than that your victim positively loves you for robbing him? I ask
you, now!) A further word on democracy might be relevant at
this point. What’s relevant about it is that democracy seems to be the
Inevitable Wave of the Future. Gosh, who doesn’t want a vote? So who wouldn’t
agree that we should all have the right to vote? Democracy sells
- that’s what it does. And this enables the minarchists’ problem along this
line to be put in a nutshell: try selling Libertarianism to the mob - to hoi
polloi. See where that gets you! Democracy, remember, consists in
putting the foxes in charge of the henhouse, where the henhouse is all of us
and the foxes are a small majority of us. It won’t have escaped the foxes’
attention how easy it is to elect somebody who will set up an unnecessary
Widget plant over in this area, or give "aid" to the poor
so-and-sos over there, and so on until your tax bill is about 55% of
your income. With incentives like that going for the governors, the prospect
of minimizing government looks about equivalent to having a nice sunny
seaside vacation in Antarctica. It isn’t going to happen! 8. The Minarchist’s Ultimate Problem The trouble, then, is that the smell of political
power is irresistible to too many of the wrong people. If we’re up against
people like that - and we are, after all - then minimizing the state is
basically a pipe dream. Or so it seems; and if it’s true, then libertarians
will just have to become thoroughly accustomed to doing what they do already
- and pretty well, too - which is to sit around in coffee houses and bitch at
the state. But as to actually getting rid of the sucker? - Forget it! But if you do look at it that way, then we’re back
to the anarchists having the better of it. If neither of us has the remotest
prayer of a chance of even seriously reducing the state, let alone
eliminating it, then the question reverts to the abstract one of which better
instantiates Liberty. And the answer to that, I believe, is that the
anarchist arrangement does. In short: the idea of minarchism is that the ideally
good government would literally "govern least" in the sense that
all and only the bad guys would be apprehended and dealt with in the right
way, and the state wouldn’t dream about stepping over that boundary. But it
turns out that any institution that could both do that and do it
without violating anybody’s rights isn’t the state anyway - it’s a large or
(more likely) a large set of small private protective agencies and insurance
companies. So Thoreau is right: that government is best - indeed, the only
government that is fully acceptable on libertarian grounds - is the one that
doesn’t govern at all. Notes (1)
These are the opening sentences in his famous essay "Civil
Disobedience." There are innumerable reprintings of the essay; this one
happens to be found in Selected Writings of Henry Thoreau, ed. by
Lewis Leary, (New York: Crofts Classics - Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1958) p.
9. (2)
See, for example, Murray Rothbard’s justly famous For a New Liberty, which
begins by citing the foundations of libertarianism as the "nonaggression
axiom." The axiom in question really just is the libertarian principle,
and if it is asked why we should accept this as an "axiom" Rothbard
appears to have no answer. Robert Nozick’s Anarchy, State and Utopia,
another classic source for libertarians, is similarly bereft of such
discussion. The exception here is my own The Libertarian Idea
[Peterboroush, Ontario, Canada: Broadview Press, 2001 - earlier published by
Temple University Press, 1988)] in which I propose game-theoretic foundations.
Attempting that is a difficult matter. (3)
John Locke, Second Treatise of Civil Government, sect. 34: God gave
the World to Men in Common..". (4)
The author has investigated that claim pretty thoroughly in "Property
Rights: Original Acquisition and Lockean Provisos" in Public Affairs
Quarterly vol. 13 #3, July 1999, pp. 205-227. Also as Ch. 8 in my book, Respecting
Persons in Theory and Practice (Lanham, Md: Rowman and Littlefield,
2002). (5)
See Narveson, The Libertarian Idea. See also "Contracting for
Liberty," in Tibor Machan and Douglas B. Rasmussen, eds., Liberty for
the 21st Century (Lanham, Md: Rowman and Littlefield, 1995). A relevant
further article is "The Anarchist’s Case," in Narveson, Respecting
Persons in Theory and Practice (Lanham, Md: Rowman and Littlefield,
2002), Ch.apter 11. (Originally in John T. Sanders and Jan Narveson, eds., For
and Against the State (Lanham, Md: Rowman and Littlefield, 1996). (6)
Locke, 2nd Treatise on Civil Government, sections 3, 6, 21, 87-89,
95-99, 123-131. 135-138. Some have doubted that Locke’s law is precisely what
I have proposed as general formulations of the Liberty Principle. I think
they are wrong, but this is no place to discuss the matter. (7)
See the unforgettable chapter, "Demokteusis" in Robert Nozick’s Anarchy,
State, and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974), especially pp. 280-292.
See also a minor contribution of my own: "Fixing Democracy" -
Chapter 10 in Respecting persons (op. cit). (8)
Locke, Second Treatise,#138. (9)
This wonderful example is, I am told, from the E.U. (10)
Everyone needs to be acquainted with the remarkable works of Bruce Benson on
this matter. One is The Entrprise of Law (Pacific Research, 1990). The
other is To Serve and Protect: Privatization and Community in Criminal
Justice, (New York: New York University Press, 1998). (11)
To supplement this brief account, I recommend Leslie Green, The Authority
of the State (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988), which argues that "the
modern state claims an authority that cannot in general be justified"
(p. vii) No one to my knowledge has dissected the standard arguments more
meticulously; he finds them all wanting. (12)
Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974)
Chapter 2. (13)
The remarkable and brilliant work by Jared Diamond, Guns, Germs, and Steel
(New York: Norton, 1997) offers very broad-gauged explanations for the fact
that it was Europeans, rather than someone else, who brought what we think of
as the modern world into being. Many complex things enter into the overall
explanation, but what distinguishes those explanations is their remarkable
commonsensicality, given the facts unearthed. Among the explanatory factors
is the rise of the state. This enables a large mass of people to act as one,
to get things done not otherwise possible (good things and bad ones, one must
hasten to add!) In the chapter "From Egalitarianism to Kleptocracy"
Diamond outlines the ascent of social organization from mere bands of
large-family size, through tribes, chiefdoms with perhaps as many as several
thousand, to states with their populations in the millions. Even at the third
stage, chiefdoms, we have "the dilemma fundamental to all centrally
governed, nonegalitarian societies. At best, they do good by providing
expensive services impossible to contract for on an individual basis. At
worst, they function unabashedly as kleptocracies, transferring net wealth
from commoners to upper classes. These noble and selfish functions are
inextricably linked, although some governments emphasize much more of one
function than of the other..." (p. 276). Big government especially
involves much more scope for kleptocracy to flourish. The question is, how do
they get people to put up with it? Diamond offers four answers. You can
disarm the populace and arm the elite; you can appeal to the masses by
redistributing some of the tribute in popular ways (bread and circuses, say);
you can maintain public order and curb violence, this being hugely useful to
all; or, finally, you can "construct an ideology or religion justifying
kleptocracy", i.e. [as I am tempted to say], tell enough and the right
kind of lies. Actual governments tend to use some of each, in a greatly
variable mix. Another fine article forcefully advancing the line that
government is basically a gang of thieves which we are quite unlikely to be
able to do anything about is by Randy Holcombe: "Government: Unnecessary
but Inevitable," forthcoming (in 2004), in The Independent Review. |