(With apologies to the lamented William Safire.)
Steven Pinker devotes a fair amount of effort and prose to
the problem of why and how liberal academia has redefined “human nature” (in
short, by asserting that it doesn’t exist, and effectively quashing any attempt
to revive it), in his book The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature. Jonathan Haidt, in his research into human
morality and its various cultural expressions, has discovered that academia
has, for decades, denied essential components of morality. Pete Larson and his amateur paleontology team
discovered that academic prejudice can have life-changing ramifications, as
detailed in his 1990s legal struggles, his 1996 incarceration in prison, the
loss of his prized, once-in-a-lifetime specimen and the summary of all these travails,
the documentary feature Dinosaur 13 and
the book on which it is based, Rex Appeal: The Amazing Story of Sue,the Dinosaur That Changed Science, the Law, and My Life, by Larson and his wife, journalist Kristin Donnan.
Folks, this is elitism.
This is the result of people who don’t work for a living, don’t
participate meaningfully in the market, and regard themselves as authorities on
everything indoctrinating us, taking stances on issues in which they do not
belong, and imposing their will on the political discourse. Pinker notes that, throughout the 60s, 70s
and well into the 80s, if not later, the label “intellectual” implied Marxism,
and academics rejected the application of that label to anyone who professed a
preference for markets. This, rather
than an antipathy to intelligence and education, is why Republicans such as
Richard Nixon were noted for their “anti-intellectualism.” Among my own collection of books on humanity
and society, it’s difficult to find a sociology text whose author doesn’t
self-identify as Marxist; the one I’ve cited most frequently, Complexity Theory and the Social Sciences: an Introduction by David Byrne, speaks less about the role of complexity
theory in explicating market behavior than it does about how to use sociology
as a tool to promote communism. The
prevailing assumption on the part of this elite seems to be that capitalism is
a quaint, childishly simple economic system that should be replaced by
something more directed, more planned, more orderly…something designed. Something they
design, something they impose. This is,
they believe, the source of their power and relevance: the influence they wield on our youth, and
that they will wield, Come the Revolution, on the new order. Markets and free societies, you see, happen
organically; they require no planners or authorities.
In the case of Larson, paleontological authorities at the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology who objected
to his amateur, profit-seeking approach to locating, recovering and preparing
fossils applied pressure to the Department of Justice, and later to a federal
court presided over by Judge Richard
Battey, whose antipathy toward the Larson brothers and their team stemmed from
their request for him to recuse himself from their case due to a conflict of
interest; he subsequently sentenced Peter to two years in federal prison for
the outrageous criminal offense of failing to fill out a government form when
transporting travelers checks between the United States and South America. Richard Stucky, a former president of the
Society, has lobbied Congress to prohibit all but “authorized paleontologists”
from recovering fossils on public lands, essentially placing fossils in the
public domain; his group has vehemently decried the use of profit motive in
fossil-hunting, and has argued that the Larsons represent the very worst
element in science. Meanwhile,
well-known and respected paleontologists such as Robert Bakker and Jack Horner
(himself only having ever attained an honorary degree, being unable to fulfill
the requirements for a Bachelor’s during his own paleontological training) have
defended the Larsons’ work, not only on the basis of their prodigious
contributions to the world’s wealth of major dinosaur finds, but for their
meticulous technique, which has informed even their own work.
I’ll deal with the leftist / academic distrust of
distributed intelligence and decentralization later, in my ongoing series on
markets. For now, I want to focus on
their influence on language, specifically on definitions.
1. Morality
I attended public school in Texas. This had its pros and cons. I attended grades two through five in the
Groesbeck Independent School District, which was at the time outgrowing its
elementary school. My fifth year took
place on the junior high school campus, which was adjacent to the high school
campus. You can imagine the hijinks that
ensued when the junior high schoolers saw their turf invaded by
fifth-graders…hijinks that didn’t end with the school day, since all three
schools utilized the same bus system.
But the social aspect of school in a small town is a topic for another
series of posts. The scholastic aspect
is what’s relevant here. In fourth
grade, my science teacher, Mr. Driscoll, refused to discuss evolution with the
class, because it was against his beliefs.
I took that personally, and embarked on a personal study of evolution
that has proven richly rewarding, informing much of my life and my other
studies, including my economic and political interests. So thanks for that, Mr. Driscoll. In 1981, my family moved back to Houston, and
I entered school in the award-winning northwest Houston district of
Cypress-Fairbanks. My high school years
were spent mostly at Langham Creek High, which later went on to achieve a Presidential
Fitness award. The quality of the
teaching was, in other words, quite high, although the social environment
retained some of the more unfortunate aspects of rural schooling. Such is adolescence.
I didn’t become particularly politically aware until my 12th
year, and only then in response to what I was starting to perceive as a distinct bias on
the part of the social sciences teachers.
My own slightly liberal slant was undoubtedly the result of peer
influence, and was as unnoticed by myself as my own Texan accent. The government, history and social studies
teachers were generally willing to permit debates between teams of students,
and it was through this mechanism that I started to become aware of ideological
distinctions and the reasoning (or lack thereof) behind those positions.
It was not until I entered college in the fall of 1988 that
I became fully exposed to the degree of ideological influence that academia
could impose. I was lucky in that my
poli-sci professor, Jeffrey Segal, was reasonably objective. He had coauthored one of the course texts, The Supreme Court and the Attitudinal Model,
which analyzed the history of the U.S. Supreme Court’s decisions in light of
the “attitudinal model” of jurisprudence, and found that this model correlated
much more strongly with SCOTUS’ decisions than any other existing model. In short, the Court rules on the basis of its
prevailing ideological bias, with Constitutional considerations only weakly
contributing to the outcome. Segal and
his coauthor, Harold Spaeth, agreed, for instance, that the decision in Roe v. Wade was unconstitutional and
based on flawed precedent (Griswold v.
Connecticut), despite the fact that one of them was pro-life and the other
pro-choice (Segal never revealed which was which, and I have never been able to
determine that from the text).
Most of the ideological bias came to me in other courses,
such as English Literature. The
professor was rarely on the scene, and classroom discussion was led by a TA who
showed up every day in beach-bum hippie garb.
He was genial and smart, but far from neutral in his regard for the
social value of the literature we were studying.
Even then, though, in the years transitioning the Eighties
into the Nineties, there wasn’t much complete overturn of concepts I’d been
taught in public school. “Morality,”
defined in my high school texts as the
sum total of norms and values imposed on the individual by society, still
seemed to mean pretty much the same thing in my college classes. Had I gone into a political speciality,
however, I probably would have quickly found that concept falling by the
wayside in favor of more “enlightened” definitions; as an engineering student,
I wasn’t required to take multiple courses in government, and was never fully
exposed to the academic biases that some of my peers have been. (One of my friends, Cris, obtained a Cum
Laude graduation in macroeconomics a couple of years ago, making his college
experience much more recent than mine.
He recounts having to challenge the progressive doctrine being pushed in
some of his classes, although at least in his focus courses, integrity won out
over politics.)
It wasn’t until around the turn of the century when I
finally got into the Internet in a steady way, and began arguing politics on
the Delphi forums and newsgroups. In the
decade or so between my college experience and this new exposure to the
political discourse, some definitions seemed to have changed profoundly, or
been taught quite differently in other institutions. In particular, the liberal contingent
disagreed with morality as a collective phenomenon rooted in norms and
values. They seemed to regard morality
in much the same way as the religious fundamentalists did, as something
absolute, something deeply rooted in first principles, a standard to which all
people, of all times in all places, could be held. The problems with this kind of moral
sensibility become manifest when reviewing all the exceptions that have to be
made in order to correct for past abuses made to the special interests that are
now therefore entitled to violations. In
this view, white collar crime is worse than violent crime, because rich old
white men have no justification for committing crime, whereas poor
urbanites—especially those in ethnic minorities—can be “expected” to engage in
crime. (The inherent racism in assuming
special justification for any kind of
activity on a purely ethnic basis is something I leave to the reader to
weigh.) In this view, abortion-on-demand
is justifiable because women have been oppressed in the past. In this view, welfare handouts are are
justifiable, at least for American blacks, as reparations for slavery, and for
native Americans as reparations for genocide.
The common element in these exceptions is the willingness to punish the
people of today—by excusing crimes committed against them, by taxing their
wealth for redistribution, by allowing them to be killed before they’re even
born—for the sins of the people who lived decades, even generations ago, or
sometimes—as in the case of abortion—for the mistakes made much more recently
by their own parents.
Morality, however, while having an absolute behavioral
basis, has no absolute cultural expression.
Morality should be viewed like language in order to fully understand
this point. Humans obviously have the
capacity for language. Children aren’t so
much taught to speak as they
instinctively learn, applying a
number of techniques: babbling
(experimental vocalization), followed by imitative vocalization, concurrent
with listening to adults and children speaking, gradually obtaining a grasp of
cadence, inflection, syntax, vocabulary and etiquette. Children will learn to speak if exposed to language, and little to no special instruction is required to make this
happen. It’s interesting, for instance,
that children will readily eschew the cadences, vocabulary and etiquette of
their parents in favor of those of their peers, demonstrating that peer
pressure and imitation account for a greater portion of the learning than what
is self-consciously taught. Language
tends to stratify, in any one culture, into age-group-imposed variations, with
the greatest rate of innovation often occurring in the youth groups, over time
adding slang to the lexicon (some of which may eventually become standard, or
at least generally-accepted, usage).
Linguistic customs are in fact among the wide range of shibboleths
(musical preferences, vehicular preferences, attire, modes of entertainment and
social engagement) that social contexts use to identify in-group members.
In this, language reflects the nature / nurture dichotomy
that typifies cultural features. We have
the capacity for culture and for
certain behaviors; these capacities are innate, instinctive, universal to all
(normal) people in all societies. But
the way in which these behaviors and
cultural features are expressed is subject to substantial variability. Culture differentiates over time in a way
analogous to how populations and species do, and for similar reasons: different sets of environmental pressures to
which to adapt. So it is with
morality. We’re born with a capacity for
morality, but the specifics of the morals imposed on us vary considerably from
society to society, as well as over time.
Consider how clothing differentiates over time. In the natural state, where human groups are
small and highly mobile, cultural identity must be advertised from a reasonably
safe distance, so that friend and foe can be distinguished readily. So clothing, skin scarification, paint,
headdresses and other adornments are prominent, garish, and distinctive. Within an ethnicity or over a wide region,
these may amount to variations on a theme, since groups in these settings will
be exposed to the same kinds of materials, the same seasonal availability thereof,
and the same general understanding of what the structures and colors
signify. Ostrich feathers and warthog
tusks might be common in one part of the continent, and so might make for ready
adornments; the length of the feathers in a headdress might serve as an
indication of age, and therefore of rank status, while the number of tusks
might signify the number of wives, or the number of enemy combatants killed in
warfare. But over wider areas, this
relationship breaks down, since warthogs and ostriches have bounded geographic
ranges and preferred habitats; so the variability in garb and decoration
increases, with some tribes perhaps preferring lion claws to tusks, and others
preferring mummified bat wings to ostrich feathers. A graphic representation of how sartorial
variability increases with distance from an epicenter of innovation would
resemble a map of how culture itself diversifies with distance from a site of technological
or agricultural improvement, how dialect diversifies from a root language, how populations
subspeciate and then speciate over increasingly wide geographic regions.
Morality is in fact found, to some degree, in a wide range
of social animals. The purpose of
morality is to promote group cohesion by encouraging members of the group to
adhere to a common standard of behavior.
Any social population that exhibits the ability for its members to
diverge substantially from a hardcoded script of instinctive behaviors will
probably, upon inspection, be found to have some kind of moral sensibility. (Populations whose members are bound strictly
to an instinctive program of behaviors probably don’t need morality, at least
in the sense we’re familiar with, but that’s not to say that we mightn’t find
some analogous feature in their societies.)
This is one of the central assertions of the ethological theories
advanced by Konrad Lorenz and Niko Tinbergen (famously, in Lorenz’ popular book
On Aggression, and also championed by
Robert Ardrey in his series on human evolution, beginning with African Genesis).
The blueprint for the theory is fairly straightforward,
premised on V. C. Wynne-Edwards’ definition of “society”: the
pursuit of conventional prizes by conventional means. “Convensional prizes” are those things that
individuals within a population compete for:
territory, rank status, resources, and mates. “Conventional means” are those practices that
allow this competition to occur with a minimum of disturbance to the group’s
security and structure. Lorenz defined
“aggression” as the fighting instinct in
beast and man which is directed against members of the same species; that
set of behaviors whereby competition for territory, rank status, resources and
mates takes place. Under normal
circumstances, in most species, this competition takes place in a more or less
orderly fashion, under regular circumstances (such as during a specific time of
year, in specific arenas, with an upper limit on the extent of the ensuing
violence). Very few species engage in
combat with lethal potential. Rattlesnakes,
for instance, have ritual combat in which contending males seek to raise the
forward part of their bodies higher than the opponent, often intertwining and
pushing against them until one become exhausted. Ungulates are famed for engaging in head-butting
contests. Birds and lizards engage in
ritual display, which in birds are also accompanied by loud vocalizations. (Contrary to popular conception, male birds
don’t sing to attract mates, but to declare and defend ownership of a specific
territory. The mates accrue to those who
maintain the most attractive territories.)
The common element to these contests is the exhibition of strength and
endurance, which in the context of sexual selection translates to health and
the ability to expend energy in the pursuit of biological success. When a social species’ behavior is complex
enough that substantial deviation from instinct can occur, there is enhanced
potential for ritual combat to exceed these parameters. As John C. Calhoun’s “behavioral sink”
experiments with rats demonstrated—and as history continues to demonstrate
wherever and whenever human society collapses—norms are essential to
maintaining order and peace in society.
As stress (particularly population stress) on society increases, some
individuals lose the ability to adhere to norm, and violence and depredation is
the result. But as long as population
levels remain reasonable, and resource contention remains moderated by
norms—and, in many cases, by the moderating, pacifying influence of the elders
in the hierarchy—ritual conflict can take place in its circumscribed arena
without spilling over into the general population.
Lorenz and Tinbergen observed morality, or at least a
primitive counterpart, in several different kinds of animals, including herring
gulls and chacma baboons. Morality, they
found, is imposed by the group, particularly by the elder members, those who
tend to occupy the higher rungs of the hierarchy. Behaviors that are wildly out of norm are
regarded with suspicion, even hostility; herring gulls that were netted for
study, and thrashed in panic, were immediately set upon by their neighbors in
the colony. A female baboon,
raised in captivity and therefore unaware of the signals used by the wild troop
to rally and begin moving, was repeatedly bitten on the neck by a dominant male
who couldn’t understand why she didn’t get the message. More recently, documentary filmmakers have
captured footage of a male coyote, exceeding his station by attempting to mate
with the alpha female, being driven out of the pack by the other members. It is clear that morality, or at least its
progenitor behaviors, existed long ago in the animal kingdom, and that humanity
came into that endowment not by means of devising it from scratch, but by way
of accepting it as a fait accompli from our immediate ancestors.
OK, so morality isn’t unique to humanity. As it happens, this can also be said of
culture in general. “Culture” can be
defined as the set of practices that are
learned and / or taught, and therefore cannot be ascribed solely to instinct. Culture has been observed in apes, notably by
Jane Goodall. Chimpanzees, for instance,
have enough intelligence and inquisitiveness to be able to learn a great deal
from their elders, and to come up with novel solutions to problems relating to
finding food. Chimps in parts of Africa
extract termites from logs manufacture tools called “brush-tipped probes,”
whereas chimps in other areas manufacture tools called “brush sticks,”
distinguished by the means and extent they’re stripped of leaves. So far, there doesn’t appear to be any
particular advantage of one method over another; they cannot, for the time
being, be argued to be the inevitable result of natural selection modifying
behavior over time. They are, however,
quite definitely learned. The capacity
for using tools is innate; the specifics of tool manufacture and use vary from
group to group.
What this ultimately means is that there cannot be a universal
morality. Only in the total absence of
cultural variability could norms and values be regarded, in toto, as human
universals. Because every human group
exists in a unique combination of historical, climatic, sociopolitical and
ethnic environmental factors, the culture that arises in each has unique
features, and this applies as much to morality as to any other. The norms of the Aztecs called for periodic
human sacrifice and the torture of war captives. The norms of lowland New Guineans called for
headhunting and periodic warfare against neighboring tribes. The norms of modern Yanomamo call for
violent, painful ritual combat, total war with neighboring villages, and the
rape and enslavement of captives.
Cultural anthropologist Marvin Harris, in his book Cows, Pigs, Wars and Witches: The Riddles of Culture,
describes how the Maring tribe of New Guinea, at intervals determined by
the rate at which their domestic pig population expanded (thereby imposing
resource pressure on the Maring themselves), engaged in total, genocidal war
with their neighbors. In previous eras,
headhunting was also a norm, one that was repressed by Christian
missionaries. As the practice vanished
from the social scene, its power to promote group cohesion dried up as well,
and many New Guinean tribes fell completely apart.
This understanding of morality is difficult to come by for
some folks, who regard “morality” as being defined by “social justice.” Ardrey argued that group cohesion arises via
the interplay of factors related to the “Amity / Enmity Complex,” the set of
behaviors that allow individuals to regard some other individuals as kin, while
regarding still other individuals as outsiders.
This in-group / out-group identification approach to understanding
morality is found in a number of disciplines, from psychiatry (in the works of
Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung) to mythography (in the works of Joseph Campbell). Just as linguistic variability can serve to
distinguish youth culture from its elders, and face paint and feathers can
distinguish one tribe from another, norms can distinguish one society from
another. Religion, as keeper and
promulgator of norms, coevolved with civilization in order to promote group
cohesion in the increasingly dense and complex society that was
developing. Liberals and anarchists, who
see in religion only a source of persecution and war, resist comprehending this
point. They see nothing “moral” in
forced conversions, in Crusades, or in the Inquisition. By focusing on the pathological expressions
of religious group cohesion, they are ignoring the wider world of civilization
itself, which cannot have come into existence, evolving from the ancestral,
tribal condition, without features such as religion to expand the concept of
“kin” from having a narrow, purely ethnic connotation to having a broader,
cultural one. This “expanding the
circle” phenomenon is the subject of Peter Singer’s book The Expanding Circle, and the general process of
pacification-via-civilization is the subject of Steven Pinker’s book The Better Angels of Our Nature. The executive summary of both books can be
stated as “civilization expands our notion of kinship, which is itself
instinctive, from its basic form (rooted in genetic kinship) to a more
elaborate, inclusive form (rooted in shared culture).” Norms and values are what comprise that
shared culture. This is a pretty simple,
obvious insight, one that is supported by a wealth of anthropological,
ethological and psychological research, but it takes little more than a
hostility to religion to render it completely invisible.
What people with that hostility will argue is that morality
isn’t imposed by society, but is rather a set of rules the individual decides
upon for himself, never comprehending that they are confusing morality and
ethic. They argue that, for this reason,
religion isn’t necessary, and given the evident problems posed by religion,
it’s more trouble than it’s worth, oblivious to the fact that morality cannot
be “universal” or “absolute” while at the same time personal and
individually-defined. They declare that
morality is about doing what is “right,” without specifying who or what defines
what “right” is. They exhibit an
unwillingness to acknowledge what “normal” means, and to accept that “norms”
and “normative” share the same root.
What is “normal” is defined by the majority. The fat part of the bell curve is the normal
part of a distribution. This is a pretty
hateful truth to that ideological contingent that seeks to redefine “normal,”
to normalize abnormality, and to garner approval for practices that the
majority disapproves of. But it’s a
truth that is central to the democratic process, to civilized society, to
animal society in general. One’s
membership in and participation in the group takes place only with the group’s
approval. This simple fact of human
nature—of animal nature—has ramifications for issues such as marriage equality,
illegal immigration, and welfare entitlements, which is no doubt among the most
important reasons why it is so vociferously resisted by progressives.
Liberal academia doesn’t like morality to be complex and
nuanced. It doesn’t like morality to be
diverse and normative. It prefers that
morality be universal and absolute, except when it prefers that morality be
entirely individual. It prefers that
morality be concerned with social justice, except when morality is in a
position to be compared and contrasted vis-à-vis civil rights and equality
(think “cultural relativism,” especially with regard to how women and minority
religious groups are treated in majority-Muslim nations). It doesn’t like that in-group / out-group
identification requires approval and entails disapproval, except when approving
of progressives and disapproving of conservatives, libertarians, and
capitalists, all of whom can be dismissed on the basis of racism, sexism,
homophobia, or some other catch-all label (I’ll leave it to the reader to weigh
the inherent bigotry in such prejudices).
The preferred liberal definition of “morality” is the set of rules for conduct which promote
altruism and reciprocity. This is
actually acceptable, as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough. Altruism is promoted instinctively by kin
selection in most social animals; it’s a mandatory behavioral complex,
reinforced by instinct. Richard Dawkins
introduced the concept of the “selfish gene” in order to explicate kin
selection, which is the operative form of inclusive fitness in small
groups. Individuals within a population
to which they are closely related have a tendency to be willing to risk their
lives in defense of the group, share resources, even to their own detriment,
and otherwise put themselves out in order to help the others. This is because they all tend to share some
genes. Obviously natural selection
rewards (with reproductive opportunities) those who survive long enough to
secure mates, so risking one’s life would tend to be contraindicated under
normal circumstances. But in groups of
highly-related individuals, one individual doesn’t have to survive and
reproduce in order for his genes to survive to the next generation. As long as his close relatives survive, those
genes survive. So inclusive fitness
arises as a set of mechanisms whereby individuals can ensure the survival of
those genes by risking themselves.
Dawkins regards kin selection as the only existing form of inclusive
fitness, but there is evidence for another:
group selection, which promotes the survival of groups without a high
degree of relatedness. It is the set of
mechanisms whereby individuals can ensure the survival of completely unrelated
individuals. It should be obvious, with
a bit of reflection, that this kind of inclusion cannot be reinforced by
instinct, as there is no genetic feedback between the act of altruism and the
survival of the genes of the altruistic individual. It would appear that it can only come into
existence in large groups, and then only under the influence of cultural
factors that can stand in for genes.
This is what makes civilization possible. The inherent clannishness of human groups would
prevent their integration into larger communities, on which they’d have to
share a fixed group territory, abandoning their roving ways and their constant
conflict with other groups, in the absence of cultural features that can
promote the shift from kin selection to group selection. And yet here we are, all civilized. The cultural features that came into
existence—the features that in fact distinguish civilization from the natural
state—are formalized religion, government, formalized marriage, traditions and
markets. It may be purely accidental
that these are the features to which progressives and anarchists tend to be
most hostile, but it is certainly ironic; the eradication of these features
from civilization would erode group cohesion to the point where civilization
would become untenable.
Morality encompasses several of these features. Religion codifies morals and imposes them
from the bottom up, by describing a family structure and imposing barriers to
entry that demand adherence to norms before the individual can commit to a
marriage, and enforces them with peer pressure.
Government imposes morals by standardizing practices and public conduct,
enforcing them with legal penalties.
Tradition promotes group cohesion by bringing together people from all
walks of life in shared activity.
Marriage provides a stable structure for the raising of children and the
generational transfer of values.
Clearly, morality is concerned with more than just
altruism. Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt undertook a study of morality, proceeding from the common academic
assumption that it consists of a set of behavioral responses that can be
quantified along a couple of different axes, with names like “care / harm” and
“fairness / cheating”. After
interviewing people in cultures all over the world, he was compelled to expand
on that phase space out to a five-axis model, and in the time since his
original publication, another axis has been identified. One of the more intriguing findings in his
work is the discovery that liberals and conservatives tend to regard morality very differently, not only in outward expression but in terms of internal
processing. This difference appears to
be neurological in origin, and not the result of indoctrination; in other
words, some people are born with a hardwired predisposition to become
ideologically conservative, and others are born to become liberal. This could be the result of a form of
“differential selection” akin to what predestines some people to be alpha males
and others to be omegas. Whatever the
case, conservatives, in cultures all over the world, engage in moral processing
that entails considering five or even six dimensions, whereas liberals limit
their moral processing to no more than three, and often just one (combining the
“care / harm” and “fairness / cheating” dimension into a single one, which
could be labeled “reciprocity”). By
focusing on the “fairness” of a policy or practice, they ignore the cohesive
impact of loyalty, sanctity and liberty.
Indeed, many liberals seem entirely incapable of considering how these
things have moral value and are useful in social settings. This is one reason why it’s so damnably
difficult to discuss these matters with progressives.
The reason I started with morality is that it is the most thoroughly
studied of the relevant concepts, empirically speaking, while at the same time
the most controversial, given the progressive attachment to an incomplete
definition. It therefore made for the
most exhaustive (and exhausting) discussion, but now that we’ve got the
heaviest lifting out of the way, we can move on to the corollary definitions.
2. Civilization
This is a more recent source of contention, in my
experience. I’ve been engaging in debate
with communists for a decade or so by now, but recently I was exposed to a
passel of them who’ve been mutually-supporting each other in debate for quite
some time in a social media group, and who have therefore been steeping in the
same concepts, arguments and jibes, learning tricks from each other and adopting
similar rhetoric, expressions and idioms.
Rather than dealing with isolated communists with individual variations
on the Marxist ideology, I was faced with a more or less unified front. It was an opportunity to observe the Amity /
Enmity Complex in action, and to become acquainted with a wider range of
collectivist arguments. It was an
eye-opening experience.
Among the things I quickly learned was that “civilization”
doesn’t mean what anthropologists define it to mean. There is no such thing as the “natural
state”; humans entered the world in a full-blown civilized state. There is nothing, in other words, that
distinguishes civilization from the ancestral environment; there are only
degrees of refinement of civilization.
Agriculture, urbanization, ceremonial centers, trade based on a division
of labor: these things don’t define
civilization, and so are exempt from discussion. Simply being a society composed of human
beings defines civilization. To argue
otherwise is to unfairly promote a “classist” view of society, in which some
societies are “superior to” others by virtue of a greater degree of
technological advancement or global influence.
Yeah. Seriously.
3. Capitalism
Capitalism is simply a form of market economy –an economy
that relies on a division of labor and requires the voluntary exchange between
individuals who participate in trade only when both parties perceive they will
come away from the exchange better off than before—that operates by way of the
advancement of privately-owned property, useful for producing some good or
service (the “means of production”), to laborers who then use it in that
capacity while in exchange returning some portion of the proceeds back to the
owner of the property. In a market
economy, consumer sovereignty compels firms to produce what is demanded, at
prices that can be afforded; capitalism, by way of competition, enforces
allocative and productive efficiencies, ensuring that wealth is created and
that society’s standing tends to increase over time, in terms of needs being
met, convenience, and leisure.
Right?
According to socialists, capitalism is an economic system
that relies on the exploitation of laborers who are forced to sacrifice the
surplus value they create to thieves who leech off society and offer nothing of
value.
Yes, I have actually been given
that definition as canonical.
Since I’m already dealing with this particular form of
lunacy in a series on free markets, I’ll spare you another 10-page diatribe and
move right on.
4. Human nature
This is what it all boils down to. Communists, and progressives in general, deny
the existence of human nature. This
denial is the subject of Pinker’s The
Blank Slate, which goes into great detail on how liberal academics have not
only repudiated any hypothesis, theory or discipline which acknowledges human
universals, but have mobilized student activists to repress any discussion of
it on campuses. Communism can really
only succeed and thrive if humans lack an innate drive to compete and acquire
territory; therefore, humanity cannot be allowed to have any instinctive
drives. We must be infinitely malleable,
willing to accept any programming imposed on us by our benevolent social
engineers. It goes without saying that
in my arguments with communists, I’ve received far more pushback on the
existence of human nature than on any other issue, including the comparative
merits of capitalism and collectivism.
This pushback, however, rarely takes any kind of rational
form. One of the most annoying things
about arguing with Marxists is the utter rejection of any science that doesn’t
bear Marx’ stamp of approval. Marx was
many things: a capitalist, a shyster, an
angry authoritarian maladaptive. But he
was no anthropologist. The vast majority
of scientific findings relevant to the debate between collectivism and markets
came to light only after his death. His
supposedly “scientific” ideology rejects almost the entirety of modern
science. Postmoderns reject any thesis
that can be perceived as having an ideological bias. Capitalism and markets are obviously ideologically
biased; evolutionary psychology is obviously ideologically biased; ethology is
obviously ethologically biased; physical anthropology and paleoanthropology are
obviously ideologically biased. The only
discipline that isn’t ideologically biased is sociology, and the only economic
model that isn’t ideologically biased is Marxism. So say the Marxists. On what basis do they distinguish the valid
(non-biased) worldviews from the biased ones?
Who the hell knows? They sure as
hell ain’t sayin.
5. Liberalism
This is the definition that irritates me the most, because
it’s the one most calculated to dig at non-Marxists. It’s classic out-group identification,
although the communists never acknowledge this.
They begin with a damnably accurate statement, that classical liberalism
began as an Enlightenment-era philosophy that emphasized liberty and the
equality of all men (in a legal, rather than socioeconomic sense). They properly point out that “liberty” and “liberal”
derive from the same root, and initially carried similar connotations. But they then go on to ignore the
evolutionary process that has followed since that inception.
What classical liberals believed was necessary to the
pursuit of liberty was a reduction in the power and scope of government, in
combination with a democratic process that placed government under the control
and consent of the governed. The
founders of the United States embarked on the first, and so far greatest,
libertarian experiment in history. Thomas Jefferson composed the Declaration of Independence, which laid
out a list of grievances and a rationale for addressing those grievances, and
in so doing elucidated the Non-Aggression Principle in full. The Constitution laid out the powers of the
branches of the federal government, limiting its operations to just those
powers, and reserving everything else for the states and the people
themselves. These two documents together
serve as the blueprint for classical liberalism. The government isn’t tasked with “taking care
of” the people, but with preserving their rights. All men are created equal, in terms of access
to rights—property rights and civil rights—including due process and legal
representation, as well as participation in the legal process. Men are not expected to be equal in terms of
social status, economic achievement, or influence on society outside the
democratic process.
The conflict between equality and liberty comes into
existence whenever government is used to promote the former at the expense of
the latter. Liberty requires little more
than an absence, or at least a paucity, of government interference in our
lives. Socioeconomic equality, by
contrast, requires burdensome government intervention. This conflict has given us the modern-day
division between classical liberals and modern progressives, who believe that
the government has a responsibility both to “take care of” its citizens and to
promote socioeconomic equality. The
measures taken in pursuit of these policy preferences violate the policy
preferences of classical liberals.
Redistribution of wealth, for instance, violates property rights, and
also intrudes on organic group cohesion by requiring individuals to subsidize
the lifestyles of others whose way of life may be regarded as abhorrent or
contrary to the donor’s values.
This is why what was formerly known as “liberalism” is now
regarded as having evolved, and diversified, into at least three schisms. “Libertarianism”—which shares that same root—is
focused on liberty, and therefore on restricting the size and power of
government. It hews closely to the
ideology of the majority of the Founders.
It is not totally distinct from what is called “neoliberalism,” which is
focused primarily on laissez-faire economic policy. (For libertarians who regard a free market
and a free society as essentially synonymous, there is really no distinction
there at all, although some neoliberals could be regarded more as anarchists
than as libertarians; hence the label “ancap,” or anarchist-capitalist.) There is also modern liberalism or “progressivism,”
which, as mentioned, is quite distinct from these strains. One might also regard modern conservatism as
a continuation of classical liberalism, although it grades from libertarianism
to social conservatism, which tends to be more focused on conformity and the “sanctity”
aspect of morality than on those, like “liberty,” that are endorsed by
libertarians.
To recapitulate my public school experience, my social
studies training defined “liberalism” as a preference for social change, typically
quite rapid, and often imposed by government.
In the context of modern liberalism, this is exactly correct. Modern liberalism is dominated by progressive
ideology, and progressivism is all about using government force to engineer
society into evolving in a specific direction.
This of course ignores that evolution requires diversification; it
ignores that complex systems (such as markets, and societies entire) cannot be
directed or regulated; it ignores that massive government intervention is
required to compel people to disavow majority values and adopt the values of a
minority special-interest group.
But there it is.
Classical liberalism is about preserving liberty by restraining government;
modern liberalism is about expanding government power, at the expense of
liberty, in order to equalize economic outcomes. The difference between classical and modern
liberalism is statism. And that’s a
pretty profound difference. It’s a
difference that is nonetheless entirely meaningless to Marxists, despite the
fact that their own claims to ideological distinctiveness are premised on their
belief that pure communism would in fact result in statelessness.
The fact of the matter is that statelessness can never be
achieved in a civilized society. The
fact of the matter is that the revolutionary aspect of Marxism grants it a
greater commonality with progressivism than with anarchistic systems like
neoliberalism. The fact of the matter is
that modern liberalism, in its preference for collectivist redistribution, is
more akin to Marxism than it is to neoliberalism. The fact of the matter is that Marxism owes
its existence, no less than libertarianism, to the same evolutionary process
that began with the Enlightenment, and therefore is unjustified in distinguishing
and elevating itself in the self-conscious way it attempts.
But to a communist, there are only two ideologies: Marxism, and everything else. And “everything else” gets lumped under the
label “liberalism.”
I hate being called a liberal.
6. Statism
Communists also tend to divide governmental systems into two
categories: “anarchism” and “statism.” They refuse to admit ancaps into the pantheon
of anarchists; only communists need apply.
Libertarians cannot be statist. Libertarians do not believe in the use of
government force to solve society’s problems.
I hate being called a statist.
7. Fascism
Communists also tend to divide economic systems into two
categories: “socialism” and “fascism.” They refuse to acknowledge that fascism is a
form of collectivism, and therefore has a good deal more in common with
communism than with free-market capitalism.
Fascism, in the words of Mussolini, is the logical extreme of
corporatism; it is the merger of state power with industrial power. This is the exact opposite of a free market;
in an ideally libertarian society, there would be little to no regulation, no
lobby, and no income tax, and therefore no conduit for corruption, no unholy
symbiosis between state and industry, no power to influence consumer activity,
no forced redistribution, and no subsidizing of a military-industrial complex
or promoting state monopoly.
To be fair, it’s not just communists that commit this error. I’ve seen non-socialist anarchists imply that
the existence of any law, of any government at all is tantamount to fascism.
I hate being called a fascist.
But at least I know better than to take it personally. I know what these words really mean, you
see. When used in error, they’re either
used out of ignorance, or in an ad-hom attempt to get my goat.
And I never let the bastards get me down. Every time I'm called a fascist, I simply point out the commonalities between Nazism and Stalinism, and watch the froth fly.