So I, for one, welcome the debate — so long as it is a real debate and not merely a series of unsupported denials of the proposition on the table. As Michael Palin of Monty Python pointed out in the brilliant sketch “Argument Clinic,” “An argument is not the same as contradiction. An argument is a collected series of statements to establish a definite proposition. It isn’t just contradiction. It isn’t just saying ‘No it isn’t.’” (To which John Cleese responded, “Yes it is.”) “Argument is an intellectual process,” Palin continued. “Contradiction is just the automatic gainsaying of anything the other person says.” (To which Cleese responded, “No it isn’t.”)

The proposition on the table is that the most robust case for the libertarian philosophy (such asI articulated but of course did not originate) entails commitments not only to the Nonaggression Principle — or what I now call the Nonaggression Obligation — but also to other values that don’t directly relate to aggression (for example, opposition to even non-rights-violating forms of racism). Charles W. Johnson spells this out in some detail in “Libertarianism through Thick and Thin.” What Johnson calls “thickness from grounds” is only one of the forms of thickness he has identified, but it’s the one most relevant for this discussion. Here’s how he puts it:

There may be cases in which certain beliefs or commitments could be rejected without contradicting the nonaggression principle per se, but could not be rejected without logically undermining the deeper reasons that justify the nonaggression principle. Although you could consistently accept libertarianism without accepting these commitments or beliefs, you could not do so reasonably: rejecting the commitments means rejecting the proper grounds for libertarianism.…

Noncoercive authoritarianism [for example, patriarchy] may be consistent with libertarian principles, but it is hard to reasonably reconcile the two. Whatever reasons you may have for rejecting the arrogant claims of power-hungry politicians and bureaucrats — say, for example, the Jeffersonian notion that all men and women are born equal in political authority and that no one has a natural right to rule or dominate other people’s affairs — probably serve just as well for reasons to reject other kinds of authoritarian pretension, even if they are not expressed by means of coercive government action. While no one should be forced as a matter of policy to treat her fellows with the respect due to equals, or to cultivate independent thinking and contempt for the arrogance of power, libertarians certainly can — and should — criticize those who do not, and exhort our fellows not to rely on authoritarian social institutions, for much the same reasons that we have for endorsing libertarianism in the first place. [Emphasis added.]

The first thing this quotation does is refute the mistaken but common notion that advocates of thick libertarianism believe that force may properly be used for reasons other than to counter initiatory force. The second thing it refutes is the spurious claim that thick libertarians simply add their pet preferences onto libertarianism, like so many ornaments on a Christmas tree. To repeat Johnson’s point, “rejecting the commitments means rejecting the proper grounds for libertarianism.” There are no “add-ons.”

Note also that Johnson says that the sort of commitments he has in mind “could be rejected without contradicting the nonaggression principle per se.” In other words, he does not say that someone who rejects these commitments is not a libertarian. He says only that rejection of the commitments weakens the best case for libertarianism, which in turn could weaken a particular libertarian’s commitment to libertarianism itself. Despite what you may have heard, there is no attempt here to read anyone out of the movement (as though someone could actually do that).

Let’s look at some counterclaims made recently in this discussion. Unfortunately, I’ve seen little more than the sort of unsupported contradictions about which the dissatisfied Argument Clinic customer complained. I hope someone will take up the challenge of presenting a contrary case for the Nonaggression Obligation that does not reasonably entail commitment to values not directly related to the use of force.

In a recent lecture, libertarian economist Walter Block rebutted the case for thick libertarianism, particularly my rendition, by insisting that libertarianism is only about nonaggression combined with property rights acquired through homesteading. But insistence is not argument.

He went on to rebut my proposition that libertarianism is intimately associated with individualism. Surprisingly, he denied this is the case, no matter (he added) what his mentor Murray Rothbard and most modern libertarians have believed. While Block said he has no problem with methodological individualism, he sees no connection between libertarianism and political individualism. (I had in mind political and ethical individualism: the individual is the basic unit morally and politically precisely because only individuals act.) According to Block, libertarianism is entirely compatible with collectivism as long as it is voluntary, such as in a free commune.

Of course, Block is right about that compatibility, but that in no way refutes my claim about the historical and philosophical association of libertarianism with ethical/political individualism. In my article I defended the proposition that we owe other individuals nonaggression because we owe them respect as ends in themselves. (Block never says why we owe anyone nonaggression. Does he ever ask that question?) That is why we respect a person’s choice to join a commune. Thus, Block’s “voluntary collectivism” cannot refute individualist libertarianism. Where Block goes wrong is in conflating ethical/political individualism, which is based on the idea of the human being as a social animal, with what we might call lifestyle, or atomistic, individualism, which I never claimed was the essence of libertarianism. To see the absurdity of Block’s position, note that in his lecture he said my notion of libertarianism should logically lead to the rejection of team sports! Symphony orchestras and jazz bands too, I presume.

Another critique is provided by Lew Rockwell. (For the convenience of the reader, his article ishere.) In response to my claim that libertarianism must be about more than force, Rockwell in effect parrots John Cleese: “No it mustn’t.” But he does a bit more: he makes an argument from authority by citing Murray Rothbard (of whom I was a long-time friend, informal student, and admirer). He quotes Rothbard thus: “Libertarianism per se has no general or personal moral theory. Libertarianism does not offer a way of life.” That’s not an argument either, but of course the thick libertarianism that Rockwell is criticizing makes no such claim. Reread Johnson’s passage and see for yourself.

Rockwell then warns that thick libertarianism threatens to repeat a tragic episode in the history of classical liberalism:

To claim that it is not enough for the libertarian to oppose aggression is to fall into the trap that destroyed classical liberalism the first time, and transformed it into modern liberalism. How, after all, did the classical liberalism of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries become the state-obsessed liberalism of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries? How did the once-venerable wordliberalism become perverted in the first place? Precisely because of thickism.

This is flat wrong. Statist “liberalism” did not arise from the association of classical liberalism with broader values; many classical liberals in the early days associated political liberty with a broader social and ethical philosophy rooted in natural law; so did Rothbard. Instead, liberalism was corrupted by thinkers and activists who, contrary to liberalism, wanted to use the state to accomplish their ends. As Herbert Spencer, an eye witness to the transformation, wrote in “The New Toryism,” which is included in his book The Man versus the State,

Passing now to our special question, we may understand the kind of confusion in which Liberalism has lost itself: and the origin of those mistaken classings of political measures which have misled it — classings, as we shall see, by conspicuous external traits instead of by internal natures. For what, in the popular apprehension and in the apprehension of those who effected them, were the changes made by Liberals in the past? They were abolitions of grievances suffered by the people, or by portions of them: this was the common trait they had which most impressed itself on men’s minds. They were mitigations of evils which had directly or indirectly been felt by large classes of citizens, as causes to misery or as hindrances to happiness. And since, in the minds of most, a rectified evil is equivalent to an achieved good, these measures came to be thought of as so many positive benefits; and the welfare of the many came to be conceived alike by Liberal statesmen and Liberal voters as the aim of Liberalism. Hence the confusion. The gaining of a popular good, being the external conspicuous trait common to Liberal measures in earlier days (then in each case gained by a relaxation of restraints), it has happened that popular good has come to be sought by Liberals, not as an end to be indirectly gained by relaxations of restraints, but as the end to be directly gained. And seeking to gain it directly, they have used methods intrinsically opposed to those originally used.

In other words, classical liberalism sought to, and to an extent did, ameliorate the suffering of the masses indirectly by removing burdens imposed by the state and letting natural social and market forces do their work. In contrast, the New Tories sought to ameliorate suffering directlythrough affirmative state measures. Where are the self-styled thick libertarians who call for ameliorative  state measures or advocate the use of force except to counter aggressive force? There are none.

For this reason, Rockwell need not lose sleep worrying that these libertarians might choose some other value over other people’s freedom. No one understands better than they that no rational value can be achieved by violating individuals’ rights.

The freedom philosophy is intimately related to ethical, political, and methodological individualism. Therefore, the philosophy should be expected to detest any kind of collectivism — and particularly its “lowest, most crudely primitive form” — even in its nonviolent manifestations.

To put it more concretely, if a libertarian observed a growing propensity to embrace (nonviolent) racism, that person, qua libertarian, ought to be concerned. Why? Because that attitude and resulting conduct can be expected to eat away at the values conducive to libertarianism. It’s the same sort of reason that a libertarian would be concerned by, say, a growing acceptance of Keynesian ideas, even though merely holding and advocating those ideas does not require the use of force.

What is the nature of this obligation?

The first thing to notice is that it is unchosen. I never agreed not to aggress against others. Others never agreed not to aggress against me. So if I struck you and you objected, you would not accept as my defense, “I never agreed not to strike you.”

Even an explicit agreement rests on an unchosen obligation. Let’s say you lent me five dollars, I refused to repay the loan, and when you demanded repayment, I said, “Why am I obligated to repay the money?” You would probably reply, “Because you agreed to repay me.” If I replied, “True, but when did I agree to abide by my agreements?,” what would you say? If you said that failure to repay constituted aggression, and I replied that I never agreed not to aggress against you, we’d be back where we started.

Of course this would point the way to absurdity — an infinite regress of agreements to keep my agreements. We would get nowhere. There has to be a starting point.

If I were to ask, “Why do we owe it to others not to aggress against them,” what would you say? I presume some answer rooted in facts would be offered because the alternative would be to say this principle has no basis whatsoever, that it’s just a free-floating principle, like an iceberg. That would amount to saying the principle has no binding force. It’s just a whim, which might not be shared by others. In other words, if a nonlibertarian demands to know why he is bound by the unchosen NAP, libertarians will have answers. Their answers will differ — some will be more robust than others — but they will have answers. At least I hope so.

Now if we have an unchosen obligation not to aggress against others and that obligation is rooted in certain facts, this raises a new question: Might the facts that impose the unchosen obligation not to aggress also impose other obligations? If one unchosen obligation can be shown to exist, why couldn’t the same foundation in which that one is rooted produce others?

To the question “Why do we owe it to others not to aggress against them,” I would respond along these lines: because we individually should treat other persons respectfully, that is, as ends in themselves and not merely as means to our own ends. But some libertarians would reject that as too broad because it seems to obligate us to more than just nonaggression. They might answer the question this way: “Because one may use force against another only in defense or retaliation against someone who initiated the use of force.” But this can’t be sufficient because it amounts to a circular argument: To say that one may use force only in response to aggression is in effect merely to restate the nonaggression principle. One shouldn’t aggress because one shouldn’t aggress. But the NAP can hardly justify itself.

So we need a real justification for the NAP, and the one I’ve offered seems like a good start. The NAP is an implication of the obligation to treat persons respectfully, as ends and not merely as means. Of course this also requires justification. Why should we treat other persons respectfully?

Many libertarians, though certainly not all, approach the question of just conduct — specifically, as it relates to the use of force — from egoistic considerations, such as those provided by Ayn Rand. They say we should never aggress against others because doing so would be contrary to our self-interest: the dishonesty required by a life of injustice would be psychologically damaging, and we’d eventually run out of victims.

Socrates and Plato saw a problem with the first part of this answer. If one could act unjustly toward others while appearing to be just, could unjust conduct serve one’s self-interest? Egoistic libertarians can be asked the same question. What if you could lead an unjust life with a guarantee of the appearance of justice? Must dishonesty be damaging? The same people who would say yes to that question, however, would also say that a person who spins a complicated web of lies to keep the Nazis from learning he is harboring Jews in his attic won’t suffer such damage. If that person can escape harm, why not the unjust liar? Saying that one set of lies is for a good cause doesn’t strike me as an adequate answer. How would a good cause save someone from the harm of “faking reality”?

So it seems that a simple self-interest model doesn’t take us where we want to go: to the unchosen obligation to respect people’s freedom, or more broadly, to treat persons as ends and not merely as means. I would be a little uneasy if a libertarian told me that it is only his self-interest that prevents him from clubbing me on the noggin and making off with my wallet.

And yet, self-interest still might provide an answer. Roderick Long tackles this problem in his extended essay “Reason and Value: Aristotle versus Rand” (PDF). What Long shows, to my satisfaction at least, is that Rand’s notion of self-interest as expressed in her nonfiction essays is too flimsy to support the libertarian prohibition on aggression and the general injunction to treat people respectfully. To be more precise, Long shows that Rand’s explicit writings on ethics are a tangle of at least three different and inconsistent defenses for the nonaggression principle (one of them Kantian — how’s that for irony?).

Before we get to this, however, we must invoke an important distinction that Long emphasizes: instrumental versus constitutive means to an end. An instrumental means is external to the end. A constitutive means is intrinsic to the end; we can’t imagine the end without it. Long uses the example of a man dressing up for evening out (where “dressing up” includes a necktie). Shopping for a tie is an instrumental means. Wearing the tie is a constitutive means — it is part of what we mean by “dressing up.” One can dress up without shopping for a tie, but one cannot dress up without wearing a tie.

We can look at justice, which includes respect for other persons’ rights, in both ways. Does respect for their rights serve our self-interest merely because we would earn good reputations and others will cooperate with us? (This is Thomas Hobbes’s position.) Or is respecting their rights also a constituent of living a good human life? The answer is crucial. In the first case, one’s self-interest could be served by acting unjustly so long as one could appear to be just. In the second case, one could not flourish by acting unjustly even if one could go undetected. As Socrates suggested, it is preferable to live justly with a reputation for injustice than to live unjustly with a reputation for justice.

Long shows that Rand has both instrumental and constitutive elements in her nonfiction writing on ethics; in some places she says a person’s goal should be survival, while in other places she speaks of survival “qua man.” It isn’t entirely clear whether individuals should aim at the longest possible life regardless of the type of life or at a particular type of life regardless of its length. (Her novels appear to take the latter position — suicide is even contemplated by heroic characters.) If it’s the first, then violating someone’s rights might occasionally be to one’s self-interest. Imagine that at 4 a.m. you pass an alley in a deserted part of town where a man is passed out and a hundred-dollar bill is sticking out of his pocket. The chances of getting caught are zero. Do you take the money? If not, why not? An instrumental model of justice should say to take the money. A constitutive model would not.

It might be said that a rational person acts on rational principles even if in particular cases his or her self-interest is not served. But Long points out that such “rule egoism” ends up being no egoism at all, since the rule is followed regardless of its consequences. This approach is deontological, not teleological, as Rand would want it. So the reply is inadequate.

What are the grounds for accepting the constitutive model of virtue, including justice? Turning to Aristotle, Long writes,

For Aristotle, a human being is essentially a logikon animal and a politikon animal.…

To be a rational animal is to be a language-using animal, a conversing animal, a discursive animal. And to live a human life is thus to live a life centered around discourse.

Our nature as logikon is thus closely allied with our nature as politikon. To be apolitikon animal is not simply to be an animal that lives in groups or sets up governments; it is to cooperate with others on the basis of discourse about shared ends.…

Being politikon is for Aristotle an expression of being logikon; just as logikon animals naturally conduct their private affairs through reason rather than through unreflective passion, so they naturally conduct their common affairs through public discourse and rational persuasion, rather than through violence.…

Thus, Long adds, “To violate the rights of others, then, is to lessen one’s humanity.… To trample on the rights of others is never in our self-interest, because well-being cannot [quoting Aristotle] ‘come about for those who rob and use force.’”

One’s goal is to flourish by achieving excellence in those things that make one human — Aristotle says that “the task of man is a certain life, and this an activity and actions of soul with logos.” One cannot flourish if one lives in a nonhuman way. If this sounds like Rand, it’s because her fictional characters understand it, even if her nonfiction essays do not express it unambiguously.

Long concludes,

A truly human life, then, will be a life characterized by reason and intelligent cooperation. (Bees may cooperate after a fashion, but not on the basis of discourse about shared ends.) To a logikon animal, reason has value not only as an instrumental means to other goals but as an intrinsic and constitutive part of a fully human life; and the same holds true for cooperation. The logikon animal, insofar as it genuinely expresses logos, will not deal on cooperative terms with others merely because doing so makes others more likely to contribute instrumentally to the agent’s good; rather, the agent will see a life of cooperation with others as an essential part of his own good.

Aristotle’s book on friendship in the Nicomachean Ethics beautifully elaborates on this point.

If this is right, we owe respect to others’ humanity, via respect for their rights, because the activity manifesting that respect is a constituent of our own flourishing as logikon and politikon animals. We owe it to ourselves to owe it to others. This Aristotelian insight points to an interpersonal moral realm in which the basic interests of others meld in important ways with our own. “To the extent that we are logikon animals,” Long writes, “participation in a human community, together with a shared pursuit of the human good, is a constitutive part of a truly human life.”

But does this show that we owe anything more than nonaggression? It seems so. We abstain from aggressing against others because, as logikon and politikon animals, we flourish by engaging the humanity of other individuals. Clearly, abstaining from aggression is not the only way to engage their humanity, just as aggression is not the only way to deny their humanity. Thus these Aristotelian considerations entail the obligation to treat others respectfully broadly.

One last question remains: Is this obligation broadly to treat other persons as ends and not merely as means a libertarian matter? It is, at least in this way: The obligation broadly to treat other persons as ends and not merely as means is validated by the same set of facts that validate the nonaggression principle. Nonaggression is simply one application of respect. Thus a libertarian society in which people generally thought that nonaggression was all they owed others would be a society that should fear for its future viability qua libertarian society.

Finally, I’m sure libertarians do not have to be reminded that nonaggressive affronts against persons may be responded to only in nonaggressive ways. Neither governmental nor private force may be deployed to counter peaceful offenses. Why not? Because the rule of proportionality dictates that force may be used only to meet force. In other words, some obligations are enforceable and others are not.

(While thinking about this article, I profited mightily by conversations with Gary Chartier.)

So, the right question to discuss is not “thin libertarianism vs. thick libertarianism” (especially since the two depend on each other), but 1. “is it possible to have libertarianism without thickness, and if so, does this mean thickness is not actually relevant to libertarianism-per-se?” and 2. “what is the correct thickness orientation?”

Recentemente, o conhecido escritor e editor libertário Lew Rockwell escreveu um artigo em seu blog intitulado “What Libertarianism Is, and Isn’t” (“O que o libertarianismo é e o que ele não é”, em português). Nele, Rockwell afirma: “O libertarianismo se preocupa com o uso da violência na sociedade. Isso é tudo. Ele não é nada além disso”. Ele defende uma visão libertária que se preocupa somente com direitos de propriedade e sua defesa. Rockwell alega que a filosofia libertária se resume ao princípio da não-agressão, aos direitos de propriedade lockeanos e nada mais.

Quaisquer outras preocupações com questões sociais e culturais além desses limites são apenas preferências pessoais desconectadas de sua posição libertária. “Os libertários, é claro, são livres para se preocuparem com questões como o feminismo e o igualitarismo. Porém, seu interesse nessas questões não tem nada a ver com o libertarianismo, não é requerido por ele nem uma característica essencial.” Acredito que isso não seja verdadeiro. Meu alinhamento com as ideias feministas, anti-racistas, com a liberação gay e trans e meu apoio ao fortalecimento dos trabalhadores são frutos do meu libertarianismo. Defendo esses princípios pelos mesmos motivos pelos quais eu estou comprometido ao anti-estatismo.

O motivo por que eu me preocupo com as violações de liberdades que não têm origem no estado é explicada pelo próprio Lew Rockwell: “Nossa posição não é meramente a de que o estado seja moralmente mau, mas de que a liberdade humana seja um enorme bem moral”. Exatamente! Sou contrário ao autoritarismo, à dominação e acredito na igualdade de autoridade. É por isso que me oponho ao estatismo. É também por isso que sou favorável a um mundo livre de opressões institucionais como o patriarcalismo, o racismo, a repressão a gays e trans e ambientes de trabalho hierárquicos e sem autonomia.

Minha crença na igualdade de autoridade se aplica a mais que somente o relacionamento entre um político e o cidadão médio. Se aplica a todos os relacionamentos humanos, estejam eles localizados num prédio estatal, na mesa de jantar ou no balcão da lanchonete; eu desejo maximizar a liberdade humana. Desejar a liberdade humana em todas essas áreas tem relação direta com a filosofia libertária. Não são só complementos, são o prato principal.

Rockwell cita o próprio Mr. Libertarian, Murray Rothbard, em suporte à sua posição libertária enxuta. Rothbard escreve: “O libertarianismo não oferece um modo de viver; oferece a liberdade para que cada pessoa tenha a possibilidade de adotar e agir de acordo com seus próprios valores e princípios morais”. Eu acredito que as implicações verdadeiras do que Rothbard diz aqui dão suporte a um libertarianismo mais amplo, em contraposição à opinião de Rockwell. O libertarianismo, realmente, não favorece um estilo de vida particular, mas tem algo a dizer sobre como devem ser as interações humanas. Portanto, enquanto filosofia social, o libertarianismo deve defender o repúdio a relações autoritárias.

O argumento de Rothbard mostra como a liberdade é necessária para que cada pessoa encontre seu propósito e atinja seus fins. Isso vai muito além das ações do estado. Normas culturais repressivas e costumes sociais dominantes também impedem que as pessoas prosperem. Também limitam suas liberdades. Um negro não pode ter uma vida decente se estiver numa comunidade extremamente racista, onde empresários se negam a empregá-lo ou servi-lo. Eles não estariam violando seus direitos, mas certamente diminuiriam sua capacidade de atingir seus fins. Ele não poderia ser considerado livre numa sociedade tão opressora.

Rothbard continua: “Os libertários concordam com Lord Acton ao dizer que a ‘liberdade é o maior objetivo político’, embora não necessariamente o maior objetivo dentro da escala de valores pessoal de todos os indivíduos”. Embora essa seja uma excelente citação de Lord Acton, ela não vai longe o bastante. Por que a liberdade seria relevante somente à esfera política? Ela é, certamente, afetada por muitos outros fatores. Não há motivos para que nossas preocupações com a liberdade humana sejam deixadas na porta de entrada do Palácio do Planalto. Para sermos coerentes, devemos estender essa preocupação a todas as interações humanas.

Rockwell conclui: “[O libertarianismo] não precisa e não deve ser fundido com qualquer outra ideologia alheia a ele. Isso só levará a confusões e à diluição de seus argumentos morais centrais, além da diminuição do apelo da mensagem central da liberdade”. Contudo, essa fusão não existe. A preocupação com relacionamentos autoritários que estejam fora da alçada do estado é um mero desenvolvimento dos princípios centrais de autonomia e liberdade. Não dilui a mensagem, mas a fortalece. Torna-a mais coerente internamente e faz com que a preocupação com a liberdade seja o foco central, no lugar de um anti-estatismo vazio.

Nós apoiamos a auto-soberania, a autonomia individual e a liberdade pessoal. Esses são os pilares de nossas ideias filosóficas: a massa da pizza. A oposição ao estatismo, à tirania política e à força centralizada e o apoio às liberdades civis, ao livre mercado e ao não-intervencionismo são uma das conclusões que devemos apoiar: o molho de tomate. Mas não são tudo. Nossos fundamentos também justificam a oposição à repressão cultural, à intolerância social e a relacionamentos autoritários, além do apoio ao feminismo, à liberação gay e trans, ao anti-racismo e ao fortalecimento dos trabalhadores, que são o outro lado das conclusões que devemos apoiar: o queijo. Juntos, esses ingredientes formam a grande e deliciosa pizza conhecida como libertarianismo.

Traduzido do inglês para o português por Erick Vasconcelos.

Recently, accomplished libertarian author and editor, Lew Rockwell, wrote an article on his blog titled “What Libertarian Is, and Isn’t.” Mr. Rockwell argues, “Libertarianism is concerned with the use of violence in society. That is all. It is not anything else.” He supports a view of libertarianism that is concerned solely with property rights and the defense thereof. Rockwell envisions the libertarian philosophy as being the non-aggression principle, Lockean property rights, and nothing more.

Any concern for social and cultural issues beyond this is merely a person’s preferences that have nothing to do with their libertarianism. “Libertarians are of course free to concern themselves with issues like feminism and egalitarianism. But their interest in those issues has nothing to do with, and is not required by or a necessary feature of, their libertarianism.” I don’t believe this is the case. My aligning myself with the ideas of feminism, anti-racism, gay and trans liberation, and worker empowerment is an outgrowth of my libertarianism. I am committed to those principles for the same reasons that I am committed to anti-statism.

The reason I concern myself with violations of peoples’ liberty that don’t owe their origin to the state is explained by Rockwell when he writes, “Our position is not merely that the state is a moral evil, but that human liberty is a tremendous moral good.” Exactly! I am against authoritarianism, domination, and believe in equality of authority. That is why I am opposed to statism. But it’s also why I am for a world free of institutional oppression in the form of patriarchy, racism, gay and trans shaming, and autonomy-destroying, hierarchical workplaces.

My belief in equality of authority applies to more than just the relationship between a statesman and the average person. It applies to all human relationships. Whether it be in the capitol building, or in the workplace, or the dinner table, or the lunch counter, I want to maximize human freedom. My desire for human liberation on all these fronts is directly tied to my libertarian philosophy. These commitments are not merely the interchangeable toppings on the pizza of libertarianism, they are the cheese.

Rockwell quotes Mr. Libertarian himself, Murray Rothbard, to support his undecorated libertarian position. Rothbard writes, “Libertarianism does not offer a way of life; it offers liberty, so that each person is free to adopt and act upon his own values and moral principles.” I believe the true implications of what Rothbard is saying here supports the idea of a broad view of libertarianism, as opposed to Rockwell’s view. Libertarianism is, in fact, not about a certain lifestyle, other than how you interact with fellow human beings. Therefore, as a philosophy about proper social interactions, libertarianism is about the avoidance and disavowal of authoritarian relationships.

Rothbard’s argument shows how liberty is needed for each person to find their own purpose and achieve their own good. This goes beyond the actions of the state. Repressive cultural norms and domineering social customs also prevent people from flourishing. They, too, lessen people’s liberty. A black person can’t flourish if he lives in a staunchly racist community with employers and businesses who refuse him service. They wouldn’t be violating his rights, but they would certainly be diminishing his ability to achieve his own good. He would hardly be considered free in such an oppressive society.

Rothbard continues, “Libertarians agree with Lord Acton that “liberty is the highest political end” – not necessarily the highest end on everyone’s personal scale of values.” While this is an excellent quote by Lord Action, it doesn’t go far enough. Why would liberty only be relevant in the political sphere? It is certainly affected by various other factors. There is no reason to end our concern for human freedom at the doorstep of the capitol building. In order to remain consistent, we ought to extend that concern to all human interactions.

Rockwell concludes, “It need not and should not be fused with any extraneous ideology. This can lead only to confusion, and to watering down the central moral claims, and the overall appeal, of the message of liberty.” But there is no such fusion. Showing concern for authoritarian social relationships outside the purview of the state is merely fully fleshing out our core principles of autonomy and freedom. It doesn’t water down the message. It strengthens it. It makes it more internally coherent and makes concern for liberty the primary focus, rather than just vacuous anti-statism.

We support self-sovereignty, individual autonomy, and personal freedom. These are the bedrocks of our philosophical ideas: the pizza crust. Opposing statism, political tyranny, and centralized force and supporting civil liberties, free markets, and non-interventionism are one set of conclusions we must embrace: the tomato sauce. But this hardly the whole story. Our foundations also mean opposing cultural repression, societal intolerance, and authoritarian relationships and supporting feminism, gay and trans liberation, anti-racism, and worker empowerment, which are the other set of conclusions we must embrace: the cheese. Combined, all these things make up a large, delicious, beautiful pizza known as libertarianism.

Translations for this article:

• Portuguese, O libertarianismo é mais que o anti-estatismo.

How can libertarianism be concerned with nothing but force? This view has been dubbed “thin libertarianism” by Charles W. Johnson, and it strikes me as very thin indeed. (Jeffrey Tucker calls it “libertarian brutalism”; his article explains this perhaps startling term.)

As I see it, the libertarian view is necessarily associated with certain underlying values, and this association seems entirely natural. I can kick a rock, but not a person. What is it about persons that makes it improper for me to kick them (unless it’s in self-defense)? Frankly, I don’t see how to answer that question without reference to some fundamental ideas. Different libertarians will have different answers, but each will appeal to some underlying value.

Let’s get specific. Are there distinctly libertarian grounds for disapproving of racist conduct that does not involve the use of force? Some libertarians say no. They might hasten to add that while libertarians, as human beings, ought to disapprove of racism, they cannot do so as libertarians, because their political philosophy only speaks to the proper and improper uses of force.

On the other hand, libertarians often quote Ayn Rand on the issue, even if they wouldn’t quote her on much else:

Racism is the lowest, most crudely primitive form of collectivism. It is the notion of ascribing moral, social or political significance to a man’s genetic lineage — the notion that a man’s intellectual and characterological traits are produced and transmitted by his internal body chemistry. Which means, in practice, that a man is to be judged, not by his own character and actions, but by the characters and actions of a collective of ancestors.

The freedom philosophy is intimately related to ethical, political, and methodological individualism. Therefore, the philosophy should be expected to detest any kind of collectivism — and particularly its “lowest, most crudely primitive form” — even in its nonviolent manifestations.

To put it more concretely, if a libertarian observed a growing propensity to embrace (nonviolent) racism, that person, qua libertarian, ought to be concerned. Why? Because that attitude and resulting conduct can be expected to eat away at the values conducive to libertarianism. It’s the same sort of reason that a libertarian would be concerned by, say, a growing acceptance of Keynesian ideas, even though merely holding and advocating those ideas does not require the use of force.

It is true that carrying out Keynesian ideas requires the use of force (taxation, monopoly central banking, and state “socialization of investment”), while one can imagine a racist society in which no force is used. But although a society of racist pacifists is not a logical impossibility, it strikes me as highly unlikely. In its denial of dignity to individuals merely by virtue of their membership in a racial group, there is a potential for violence implicit in racism that is too strong for libertarians to ignore. As I’ve written elsewhere,

A libertarian who holds his or her philosophy out of a conviction that all men and women are (or should be) equal in authority and thus none may subordinate another against his or her will (the most common justification) — that libertarian would naturally object to even nonviolent forms of subordination. Racism is just such a form (though not the only one), since existentially it entails at least an obligatory humiliating deference by members of one racial group to members of the dominant racial group. (The obligatory deference need not always be enforced by physical coercion.)

Seeing fellow human beings locked into a servile role — even if that role is not explicitly maintained by force — properly, reflexively summons in libertarians an urge to object. (I’m reminded of what H. L. Mencken said when asked what he thought of slavery: “I don’t like slavery because I don’t like slaves.”)

But it doesn’t end there. I can think of another reason for libertarians to be concerned about racism, namely,

it all too easily metamorphoses from subtle intimidation into outright violence. Even in a culture where racial “places” have long been established by custom and require no coercive enforcement, members of a rising generation will sooner or later defiantly reject their assigned place and demand equality of authority. What happens then? It takes little imagination to envision members of the dominant race — even if they have professed a “thin” libertarianism to that point — turning to physical force to protect their “way of life.”

So I’m puzzled by the pushback whenever someone explicitly associates the libertarian philosophy with values like tolerance and inclusion. We don’t care only about force and its improper uses. We care about individual persons. So we properly have concerns about any preferences that tend to erode the principle that initiating force is wrong.

As one who embraces the principle of charity, I believe the pushback is motivated by an understandable fear that “thick,” or “humanitarian,” libertarianism might have the effect of watering down libertarian ideas about individual rights and property. To be sure, progressives mistakenly believe that the wrongness of racism in itself justifies government edicts against nonviolent forms of racism, such as invidious discrimination in hiring and accommodations. But we should be wary of the principle “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Libertarians should have no trouble condemning racism in terms of their political philosophy while emphasizing that nonviolent racism can and, under appropriate circumstances, should be met only by nonviolent — and specifically, nonstate — countermeasures.

On its face, this is strange. If you observe an adult being rude to his elderly mother, it is surely reasonable for you to be appalled, even though the offender did not use force. And, being appalled, you may be justified under the circumstances in responding, such as by cancelling a social engagement or telling others of his obnoxious behavior. One can reasonably say that this person’s mother is owed better treatment, without the word owed implying legal, that is, coercive, enforceability. (Words can have different senses, of course.) Therefore, the rude son may be judged culpable.

This example may be uncontroversial, but observe the attitude in another context. I recently argued that “intellectual property” (IP) can’t really be property (as can land, cars, and socks) and that it is, rather, a government grant of monopoly power over expressions of ideas, which perforce limits other people in the use of their property, while creating scarcities where there would have been none.

The article brought vigorous critical responses, one of which informed me that if I don’t believe that expressions of ideas can be owned, I would have no right to object if someone were to plagiarize or adulterate my written work.

Before diving in, I’d like to draw attention to the strange habit IP proponents have of bringing up plagiarism (or adulteration) as soon as the legitimacy of copyright is challenged. This is strange because so-called copyright infringement per se differs in a crucial respect from plagiarism. The publishing industry doesn’t strenuously lobby the government for fortified copyright laws because it is worried I will publish Atlas Shrugged with my name on the cover. (Who’d buy it?) On the contrary, it worries that I (or someone else) will publish the novel with Ayn Rand’s nameon the cover. Copyright and plagiarism must be considered apart from each other.

Be that as it may, the premise of my critic’s claim — that I cannot logically object to plagiarism or adulteration because I don’t believe expressions of ideas can be owned — must be that theonly legitimate ground for objection would be that these activities are property violations. So if they are not property violations, there is no basis to complain.

With all due respect, this is ridiculous. One who rejects the legitimacy of intellectual property can still have perfectly good moral grounds for objecting to the plagiarist’s or adulterator’s misconduct. Libertarians ought to think long and hard before buying the idea that rights violations are the only species of wrongful conduct.

If someone attaches his name to something I wrote, the plagiarist’s declaration that he is not a thief (because expressions of ideas cannot be owned) is hardly germane. I would not accuse him of being a thief. Rather, I’d accuse him of being a fake — of pretending to have accomplished something he in fact did not accomplish. Likewise, the adulterator is not a thief, but a fraud who misrepresents what he sells. Both are to be held in contempt for they have violated Kant’s maxim to treat each person “never merely as a means to an end, but always at the same time as an end.” Their assertions that they are not thieves are as relevant as a burglar’s assertion that he is not a murderer.

Slight digression: Metaphor pervades all language. When one says that a copyright infringer “stole” from an author or publisher, one cannot mean this literally (no pun intended), for what was actually stolen? We can easily imagine an “infringement” that entails no physical violation whatsoever. IP has the impossible premise that an author or publisher owns a Platonic form of a work, which is embodied in, yet transcends, every physical instantiation of that work, even those owned by other people. In other words, you can buy a book, but you cannot buy thebook. The anti-IP response is that abstractions cannot be owned.

The upshot is that a rejecter of IP may justly take offense at the plagiarism or adulteration of his work and expose the fakes and scoundrels. “The same mechanisms that make copying easy make plagiarism very difficult,” Karl Fogel writes in “The Surprising History of Copyright and The Promise of a Post-Copyright World.”

I should add that customers may justly claim they are victims of fraud. On what grounds? On the same grounds that any fraud victim has: The buyers were tricked into entering transactions on terms other than those they would have agreed to. The remedy might come through a class-action suit, the award being a refund plus costs. (Context is crucial. Someone who buys a $10 Rolex on the streets of Manhattan probably cannot credibly claim that he thought he was buying a genuine Rolex.)

What I’m arguing for is a commonsense category of noninvasive moral offenses, wrongful acts that do not involve force. Since force plays no part, the remedies must not entail force (state-backed or otherwise) either. But forced-backed remedies are not the only — or even the best — remedies available. Nonviolent responses, including boycotts, shunning, and gossip (PDF), can be highly effective.

Libertarians ought to beware of embracing such a narrow view of morality that only forceful invasions of persons and property are deserving of moral outrage and response. Think of all the cruel ways people can treat others without lifting a hand. Are we to remain silent in the face of such abuse?

The erroneous belief that only conduct for which a coercive response is appropriate — that is, rights violations — may be condemned leads too easily to the corollary error that if some conduct is deserving of condemnation, it must somehow be a rights violation. The initiation of force is not the only bad thing in the world.