the salt makers

Libertarians hate two things: coercion, and breakfast. I'm going to concentrate on the coercion part. It seems to me that the hatred of coercion--embodied in the non-aggression axiom--is not really a reasonable thing, so I'm not going to argue it as a logician. I think it's the same as the hatred most people have for bullies, thieves, and murderers. We have been taught to hate coercion, and libertarians are cursed with a reasoning that most people lack. Libertarians see the logical connection between coercion and things like taxes, laws, and all the rest.

Here's a good way to explain.

I remember in a philosophy class, we read some Nozick. Nozick claimed that taxation was slavery. His reasoning was this. A man is a slave even if he is free for half of every year. Further, that man is still a slave even if he does not work the fields; for instance, if he works a desk job of his choice, and according to his abilities. Further, that man is still a slave if, instead of spending half his time in bondage and half free, he simply gives up half the fruits of his labor to his masters every year. Thus, a man is a slave if his government takes a portion of the fruits of his labor, for in doing so they take half his labor, and in doing that, they become his master.

My classmates were aghast. How stupid this Nozick person must be, to compare taxation to slavery. He was so wrong, in fact, that my classmates decided they would not think about his argument or bother to rebut. Instead they simply said, "that's stupid" or "he's wrong." I tried to explain to them that his reasoning was valid, but they would hear none of it.

This, I think, is where libertarians see themselves. They feel much as I did in the classroom that day. They are surrounded by people who are in a world of particulars, people who cannot even conceive that the things they like can somehow be extensions of a thing they hate.

But here is where libertarians falter. They take, as an assumption, that aggression, slavery, and theft are bad. They connect the dots and conclude that governments, laws, and taxation are usually just disguised versions of the first three things.

Now, my position is two-fold. First, I assert that aggression, slavery, and theft are not evil in essence. Second, I charge libertarians with using what I call "the modern syllogism." The modern syllogism is
I don't like X
Thus X is bad
Contrast this with the ancient syllogism, which is
We agree that Z is bad
X is inseparable from Z
Thus X is bad
Libertarians think that they use the ancient syllogism. They think that one can plug in aggression, slavery, and theft into Z, and show that government, laws, and taxation (X) are bad. But if my first assertion is correct, it is not appropriate to do so. The ancient syllogism collapses into the modern syllogism.

Consider, first of all, that most Americans hate slavery because we learn to hate slavery at a young age. We learn the history of American slavery, and all the brutality and dehumanization that this entails. But there have been other forms of slavery. There was Japanese slavery, in which a slave could attain positions of power well above a freed man. There was slavery in the Iroquois confederacy, in which captured warriors had to work as slaves for a specified amount of time, and then were freed. But most of us do not learn about this until later in life. By the time we do, the moral concept of slavery has been fully formed on our minds. We cannot conceive that some examples of slavery are completely evil, some are much less evil, and some are actually good.

It seems to me that the most brutal examples of slavery (colonial Spain in South America, Sparta, deep south America, Azteca) are purely evil. There are other examples (Persian empire, Japan, African tribes) that are still evil, but not as bad. In situations like the Iroquois confederacy, the system of slavery provided a more humane way to engage in war. Instead of putting whole cities to the sword, or killing all the men and raping all the women, one could take the prisoners and put them to work. In this case, the morality of slavery is debatable. In situations like modern day America, slavery (taxation) is very useful. It lets us maintain roads, schools, and the police force.

Now, I am not trying to convince you that Iroquois slavery is, on the whole, good. And I certainly am not making the case that modern day American taxation is a perfect system. However, if you believe that all the examples I gave above are truly examples of slavery, then you cannot use the idea that slavery is evil as a premise. A premise such as "slavery is evil" requires that we all know unequivically that every example of slavery is evil. Well, I for one do not know that. Thus, I cannot accept your premise.

As for aggression or thievery, I can make those cases much more easily.

We all know it is wrong to aggress against a woman, or a child or the elderly. However, it is much less wrong to aggress against someone who spreads vicious rumors about your family. It is not wrong at all to aggress against someone stands by idly while his friend beats a woman, child, or elder. I assume that you will disagree with my ordering here. That's fine; it is not my intent to convince you. It is my intent to show that you cannot take non-aggression as a premise. A premise must be incontrovertible. There has to be more substance to it than just "I don't like it."

Thievery is easiest of all. I have said in an earlier email that there is debate over the very notion of property. Logically then, there must be debate over the notion of thievery. Since there is debate, some examples of thievery are agreed upon by all (Nazi repossession of Jewish goods), some are agreed upon by only some (taxation), and some are agreed upon by very few (ecologists who claim that clearcutting a forest is thievery against future generations). Even if we assume--very dubiously--that everyone has a common concept of property, there are many examples of a noble thief, such as Robin Hood, or Pierce Brosnan in that movie about the art thief, or Brad Pitt and George Clooney in that movie about the casino.

Since there is disagreement on your premises, you cannot simply expound them as premises. Correction: you can, but then you are using the modern syllogism. You do not like X, Y, and Z. Thus, X, Y, and Z are bad.


Nick, I asked you if it was appropriate to break the libertarian axioms in order to prevent a much larger enfringement of rights. Example: stealing someone's boat to save a drowning stranger. You said,
" The axioms are absolute as the definition of the word
implies. Though we may sympathize which the victim, he has
no right to violate our rights."

This is a confusing position. It seems to me that if it is bad when one person has their rights violated, it is twice as bad when two people have their rights similarly violated. It is three times as bad for three people, and ten times as bad for ten people. I do not understand how you can justify a 10x rights violation by saying the only way to prevent it is to commit a single rights violation. That does not seem like much of a justification at all.

You claim that it has something to do with the word "axiomatic." This is equally puzzling to me. It is an axiom in business that you do not want to lose dollars. Put another way, you always want to gain dollars. This certainly does not imply that you can never spend dollars. If you have to spend money to ultimately gain money, then you do so. This does not somewhow refute the notion that gaining money is an axiom.

It is an axiom in science that things want to reach a state of lowest potential energy. Thus, when rain falls, it flows to the lowest possible ground where its gravitational potential energy is at a minimum. However, when volcanoes erupt, they spew lava into the air, and the lava briefly has a higher potential energy. The fact that "lowest potential energy" is an axiom does not imply that it cannot be violated for greater benefit later.

In fact, axioms usually imply the reverse. If something is axiomatic, then it is a "greater good" from which we derive specific goods. It is not the kind of good that we must quixotically obey at all moments in time. It is the kind of good that we ought to maximize in total. Thus in war, we try to minimize overall troop losses (axiom), even if it means losing more troops during a certain battle.

Now, if you really want, you are free to construct a moral system in which it is always wrong to coerce, not matter how many others will be coerced in service of your end. However, there ought to be a good reason for this. It is not sufficient to say "coercion is wrong." If coercion is wrong, it is encumbant upon us to prevent as much coercion as we possibly can.

You can make the famous case that "Violence begets violence. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind." And so on. In this way, you can invoke the greater good, and say it is best served when we tend only to ourselves. But this is more rhetoric than reason. If a man is drowning, and I steal someone's boat to go save him, I am not encouraging theft. If a man is about to blow up a building, and I shoot an innocent to get to him, I do not think that I'm increasing violence in the world. Put another way, if I failed to act, I cannot believe that I somehow made the world a better place.


Let me try to frame the argument in another way. As I stated in a previous email, libertarians have to believe that there is an essential difference between action and inaction. If they do not believe this, then the whole system collapses, as all obligations and rights in the libertarian scheme are negative. They are obligations of inaction, and rights demanding inaction.

But is there an essential difference between action and inaction? To examine this proposition, I have, for your enjoyment, seven thought experiments.

Thought experiment one. A mad scientist has put you in a room with four people, sitting on chairs of four colors, red blue yellow black. In front of you is a panel with four buttons, red blue yellow black. The mad scientist tells you over the intercom, "Push the button and that person will be disintegrated on the spot. You have two minutes. If you don't push any button, then all of them die!" He cackles. The mad scientist is Ethan.

Under the libertarian scheme of things, there is an essential difference between action and inaction. Thus, if you stand still and do nothing, you cannot be held accountable. Under the libertarian scheme, if you press a button, then you and mad scientist are equally responsible for the poor soul who got vaporized. If you do nothing, then the mad scientist alone is responsible for all four deaths. So according to justice, you ought to let all four of them die. This might seem to be an absurdity to most people, but it is consistent I suppose.

Thought experiment two. It is three months later. The mad scientist has put you in an identical room with four new people. You wonder, "How did I let that damn scientist drug me again?" But before you can finish that thought, his voice comes on the loudspeaker. "You can save three of the people by pushing their corresponding buttons. Only three! The unlucky fourth person will get disintegrated. Now go!" He cackles.

Under the libertarian scheme of things, you are safe. No matter what you do, you aren't guilty of murder. This seems very strange considering the difference between this situation and the last is highly trivial. In this situation you press three buttons instead of one. Other than that, the situations are the same. So we arrive at another absurdity, this one more apparent than the last.

Thought experiment three. Three months have passed. The mad scientist got you again. You swear profusely. The voice, again: "There is only one button this time. Press the button, and they all die. Do nothing, and they all live. Whatever you do, don't press the button." He cackles.

Under the libertarian scheme, you're in the clear! Success!

Thought experiment four. Three months have passed. The mad scientist drugged your Zima this time. You think to yourself, "Well, it was basically my fault. But damn those drinks are refreshing." You hear his voice over the loudspeaker. "One button, just like last time, but now you have to press it. Press the button, and they all live. Do nothing, and they all die."

This situation is totally different. If you do nothing, you might feel bad, but you haven't technically committed murder. If you press the button, you're going above and beyond the call of duty. I point out that it is extremely strange that experiment three and four lead to wildly different moral outcomes, even though the only actual difference between the two experiments is that one requires you to move your hand about twelve inches.

Thought experiment five. Three months have passed, and you have bought yourself a brand new blade suit. It has lots of razor sharp swords sticking out of it in every odd direction. It's so stylish and shiny. You are very proud. So you stand out on the sidewalk, modeling the suit for all to see. But there is one person who does not see. It is the local track and field squad, and they're running right at you! The people in front of the squad see you, and they'll move out of the way in time, but the people in the back are in big trouble.

You aren't required to do anything. Since action and inaction are essentially different, you are well within your rights to keep on standing their, posing in a bunch of flattering positions before you gut about five people.

Thought experiment six. Three months have passed, and you decide to go jogging in the still very stylish blade suit. People stare at you, whistle, and clap. Oh the pomp and celebrity. But you look forward and what do you see? Oh no, it's the survivors of the track and field squad! They're stretching and sipping gatorade. If you keep running in a straight line, those people are gonna get a bellyfull of blade suit.

Well, this is a tough one. Is it considered action if you just keep running straight? Or is the action actually stopping in the middle of your run? If it's the latter, than inaction would be continuing to run straight. Maybe inaction is taking a route that goes around the track and field team. You can hardly decide. Things are muddled.

I will now make the claim, and I don't think it is very arguable, that the situations I just described are absurd. And the moral reasoning that follows from each is equally absurd. Obviously, it is unjust to let all four people get incinerated in experiments one and two. Choosing thus is murder. Obviously, we are obligated to do nothing in experiment three, just as we are obligated to press the button in experiment four. To do otherwise is murder. Obviously, we are obligated to move out of the way in experiment five, just as we are obligated to run around the bystanders in experiment six. Clearly, justice has no opinion about action versus inaction.

Which brings me to example seven. The classic example. A child is drowning, and you can very easily jump into the water and save it. If my reasoning up to this point has been sound, if the examples preceding this one were clear examples of murder versus right action, as I think they are, then it follows that in this case, if one does not help the child, then one is murdering the child. In this case, justice does not care about our petty concept of action versus inaction.

I have often wondered about this subject, action versus inaction. On the one hand, we cannot claim that there is no difference at all between action and inaction. After all, we can safely say that Hitler was quite a bit more guilty than the pacifists in England who would advised inaction. On the other hand, the thought experiments above show the absurdities inherent in an "action vs inaction" scheme. What we seek is a borderline for justice. Everything on this side is just. Everything on that side is unjust.

The only tenable hypothesis is that there is no borderline for justice. There is a proggression of things, starting at the forms of perfect goodness and perfect justice, proceeding through the gray area of imperfection, and terminating at absolute evil. It seems to me that the only tenable theories of justice and morality strive for the greatest good; they does not set some arbitrary marker in the sand and declare that things on one side are good while those on the other side are evil.

An enlightened concept of good and evil begins with the notion that we are all evil, because we fall so short of perfection. We must also concede that we are all good, because we are so much greater than pure evil.

But to call a man good, he must be praiseworthy, not just partially good. A man is praiseworthy if his life and his choices tend to increase the good in the world. To call a man bad, he must be blameworthy. We say that a man is blameworthy if his life and his choices tend to increase the evil in the world. In my experience, apathy leads to an increase in evil. Inaction, for the most part, is an evil.

- Hampton Myers
Written 6.9.06