It is a testament to Paul Avrich’s talents as a historian and writer that his book on the Modern School Movement, a libertarian educational movement of the early twentieth century, remains not only the essential text on an unfortunately obscure topic, but also a worthwhile resource for understanding the various currents of American radicalism and reform of the era.

More than three decades after its original publication, The Modern School Movement: Anarchism and Education in the United States is perhaps even more relevant today. Its lessons in youth liberation are much needed in a society with such a widespread fear of unsupervised youth. Its lessons in education reform – from both good and bad experiences – can only help when kids are hammered with more standardized tests and policy debates rarely have the children’s experiences as their central focus. Its lessons in anarchist history will help readers with various levels of knowledge in the subject to better understand a philosophy and movement that is too rarely understood.

Paul Avrich (1931-2006) was a professor of history at Queens College and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. His early work focused on labor movements in the Russian Revolution, and from there he began to focus more on the anarchist movements of Russia and the United States. He published numerous books on various topics in anarchist history and typically approaches his subjects with the attitude of an admiring outsider, an academic inspired by the anarchists yet not fully convinced by their philosophy.

In The Modern School Movement, Avrich draws from an impressive array of sources, including archival documents and numerous interviews with aging participants in the movement. As Avrich notes in the introduction, the book employs a biographical approach to the subject. This approach succeeds brilliantly at shedding light on the creators and drivers of the Modern School Movement, some of whom are famous for other exploits and some of whom are relatively obscure. By understanding the people involved, the reader gains a thorough understanding of what the movement was about, and gets the idea that its successes and shortcomings depended greatly on the personalities involved.

The biographical approach in the book does have a drawback in that certain important characters become the focus of the narrative, sometimes at the expense of understanding the day-to-day operation of the schools. In addition, not much is revealed about what the school’s opponents or the police are up to while all the experiments in education are going on. Yet the biographical approach makes the book extremely valuable for what it is: a fascinating study of a real, constructive thing that anarchists did, a libertarian project that other rebels and reformers supported, a movement that was deeply connected with and thus offers an informative perspective on political and social currents of its time, and an illuminating view of a history with interesting characters and lasting effects that is too often overlooked.

The text begins by introducing the life of Francisco Ferrer and his ideas of libertarian education. Francisco Ferrer was a Spanish radical who is sometimes thought of as a liberal revolutionary or reformer, though Avrich establishes his ties to the anarchist movement. On September 8, 1901, Ferrer opened the Modern School in Barcelona with 18 boys and 12 girls in attendance.

Believing that “rulers have always taken care to control the education of the people,” Ferrer opposed education controlled by the church, a powerful institution in Spain, as well as government-run education. In his school, the rights and dignity of the child were essential. There was no rigid curriculum but instead a give-and-take between children and instructors. Children and parents participated in the administration of the school. No exams or grades were given. Manual and intellectual learning went together, and the school emphasized learning through action in a hands-on environment. Parents were encouraged to attend evening and weekend classes taught by scholars. Education was intended to lead to personal improvement, which would bring about improvement in society. While no specific doctrine was taught to the children, Ferrer’s school intended to impart the values of anti-capitalism and anti-militarism, ideals of cooperation and liberation, and sympathy for oppressed people.

Avrich establishes Ferrer’s place in a broader history of anarchist education, and discusses thinkers and experiments that Ferrer was drawn to. Mikhail Bakunin summed up the views of many libertarian educators when he said that “Children belong neither to their parents nor to society. They belong to themselves and their future liberty.” Anyone looking for educational experiments to study will find plenty of ideas in the introduction, from Tolstoy’s home to the Paris Commune.

Ferrer, an energetic and efficient organizer, implanted libertarian education in Barcelona, “the main stronghold of Spanish anarchism.” The authorities of the Spanish church and state were alarmed and offended by his efforts. The school was closed in 1906, and in 1909, Ferrer was executed after a show trial for supposedly starting a brief insurrection that had begun as a strike against conscription for a colonial war.

Ferrer’s political trial and execution sparked outrage internationally and also brought great attention to his educational methods. Schools based on Ferrer’s model were founded in multiple countries in Europe, the Americas, and Asia. The United States became home to the most extensive Ferrer movement, which is where Avrich’s detailed account begins.

Avrich traces the rise and fall of the American movement beginning with the Francisco Ferrer Association in New York City. He describes the founding of the New York school in 1911, the school’s difficulties and achievements, and its important secondary purpose as an adult education center and cultural center. Throughout the book important personalities are profiled. While reformers of various political affiliations were involved, anarchists took the lead in organizing and operating the schools. Avrich briefly catalogs the numerous short-lived Ferrer schools established throughout the country, then traces the center of Modern School activity from New York to the Ferrer colony at Stelton, New Jersey, where a Ferrer school operated from 1915 to 1953. Then the narrative goes to the Mohegan colony in New York (school operational 1924-1941), and back to Stelton and also Lakewood, New Jersey (school operational 1933-1958). The narrative tends to follow the travels of important school organizers, especially Harry Kelly, Elizabeth and Alexis Ferm, and Nellie and Jim Dick.

Avrich ends the book with a brief conclusion about what the Modern School Movement meant and what its impact was. Unfortunately, this section is too brief for a thorough evaluation of the schools, probably the book’s main shortcoming.

Avrich notes that the Modern School Association disbanded just as radicalism in the United States was making a comeback in the early 1960s. By the mid 1960s, many alternative schools were being founded. Avrich states that “In the majority of cases, these ventures were undertaken with little or no consciousness of the libertarian tradition that preceded them. Yet a few direct links can be established with the Modern Schools.” He then takes one paragraph to list different people who were involved in both movements. The short space given to this part of the story is disappointing, especially when recalling the numerous pages the book spends on the lives of several artists long after they taught at the New York City Ferrer Center. The book contains excerpts of letters that Jim Dick wrote to A.S. Neill of Summerhill fame, and Avrich notes that the two educators had regular correspondence. Yet the effects of Dick’s letters on Neill is not explored. On page 343, Avrich notes that among the many notable visitors to Stelton was John Louis Horn, professor of education at Mills College in Oakland, California, “who was greatly impressed with what he saw.” Yet Avrich doesn’t go further in saying how Horn’s work was impacted or whether he discussed his findings among his colleagues. Fortunately, Avrich has done excellent groundbreaking work that later historians can build upon.

Toward the end of the book Avrich describes the old guard of anarchists dying out in the late 1930s to the early 1950s, without effective successors among the new generation. So does this mean that the anarchist school was a failure?

Avrich interviewed many Modern School graduates in the course of his research. While he does give voice to the students of the Modern School, he offers less discussion of their lives than the topic deserves. Quotes from them appear frequently in the book to comment on particular topics, they generally recall their school days fondly, and some of their successes after Modern School life are mentioned (for example, Emma Cohen was valedictorian of her high school class and later became a child psychologist; Edgar Tafel became an architect who worked with Frank Lloyd Wright). Avrich spends about a page in the book’s conclusion discussing his impressions of the students in general. However there are no in-depth life stories as there are for some of the principals and teachers. This is unfortunate, not only because it makes the students’ experiences less clear, but also because Modern School graduates have lived some interesting lives.

Avrich agrees with a Stelton school staffer who noted that Modern School alumni tended to be “more interesting” than average people, and versatile and fresh in thought and outlook. By material standards, students “were not much more successful than society as a whole,” but material wealth was not especially valued in the Modern School Movement.

Avrich writes that the great majority of the graduates “appear to have carried away a strong cooperative and libertarian ethic, a spirit of mutual aid and individual sovereignty, which has remained with them throughout their adult years, regardless of their politics or occupation.” So in a way, the schools were successful in their mission: non-doctrinaire education that would bring out libertarian tendencies and personal talents of the students. It was not as revolutionary as perhaps the militant Modern School organizers like Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, and Hippolyte Havel would have hoped, yet it brought out the small but significant changes that less revolutionary personalities – the Ferms, Joseph Cohen and Harry Kelly in their older years, early supporters like Will Durant and Alden Freeman – were looking for. More Modern School graduates in the world would most like likely lead to a world they were happier with.

Ultimately, Avrich’s Modern School Movement is a story of the founders of the Modern School, and the narrative ends with their deaths. Avrich conveys the sense that the Modern School belonged to an earlier era, that it was a product of the Emma Goldman generation, an inspiration, if not a direct predecessor, to rebels and reformers of later generations. The book provides a thorough understanding of what the American Modern School Movement was and did.

Avrich’s knowledge of early twentieth century politics, culture, and radicalism shine through in the book, and the context he provides in the narrative make it more accessible as well as informative. It is true that a reader might feel overwhelmed at times by the number of names and references to political movements, but Avrich is generally good at providing introductory information. For readers willing to dive in, The Modern School Movement opens a fascinating window on the reform and revolutionary movements of the early twentieth century, the ideas, the personalities, the connections, the internationalism. Avrich shows how various movements interacted. Events that united them – Ferrer’s martyrdom, strikes – events that split them – explosions, war, revolution – all take their places in the rise and fall of the Modern School Movement. Apart from the particulars of the Modern School Movement, the book provides excellent insights into early to mid American political and cultural history, much of which will probably be new to the casual reader or provide helpful context or refreshers for those with a serious interest in the field.

Today’s readers may be struck by some of the features of the Modern Schools that were considered radical: teaching boys and girls together, working-class children conducting scientific observations and experiments, lectures on evolution and geologic principles, free scholarly lectures where working-class people were welcome. For every feature that appears almost fantastical to someone who has only known mainstream education – the lack of curriculum or grades, the free interplay between teacher and student, the emphasis on hands-on experience over early reading, there is a seemingly mundane innovation. Yet the seemingly mundane is actually amazing when one considers the real improvement in peoples’ lives that was revolutionary for the time.

In Avrich’s account the pushing of particular values at Ferrer schools generally appears to be of a lighter character than such familiar rituals as the Pledge of Allegiance and Founding Father commemoration. No particular doctrine was taught, despite the best efforts of communists to convince school administrators (mostly fellow parents) to do otherwise.

The Modern School Movement is a pioneering work of great value to students of anarchism, historical American radicalism, and alternative education. It is also quite relevant to those with a general interest in twentieth century American political history. The 400 page text is filled with memorable personalities, and the anarchists and their allies are shown in their full humanity, with their triumphs, failings, excitement, doubts, and disagreements. The book is highly recommended both as a foundation for further research and as a fascinating read in a little known topic.

Avrich, Paul. The Modern School Movement: Anarchism and Education in the United States. AK Press, 2006. Originally published by Princeton University Press, 1980.

Por que sou anarquista? Essa é a pergunta que o editor do semanário The Twentieth Century pediu que eu respondesse a seus leitores. Consinto; porém, para ser franco, considero-a uma árdua tarefa. Se o editor ou um de seus contribuintes tivesse apenas sugerido um motivo por que eu devesse ser algo que não um anarquista, estou certo de que não teria dificuldades em discutir tal argumento. E não seria esse mesmo fato, afinal, o melhor dos motivos por que eu deveria ser um anarquista — a saber, a impossibilidade de descobrir qualquer motivo para considerar outra denominação? Mostrar a invalidade dos argumentos do socialismo de estado, do nacionalismo, do comunismo, do imposto único, do capitalismo vigente e de inúmeras outras formas de arquismo existentes ou propostas é, ao mesmo tempo, demonstrar a validade dos argumentos do anarquismo. Ao negarmos o arquismo, podemos afirmar o anarquismo. É uma questão lógica.

Evidentemente, a presente demanda não é atendida de maneira satisfatória assim. O erro e a puerilidade do socialismo de estado e de todos os despotismos a que ele é aparentado já foram repetida e efetivamente mostrados de várias maneiras e em vários locais. Não há motivos pelos quais eu devesse atravessar esse terreno novamente com os leitores de Twentieth Century, embora sejam todas provas suficientes para o anarquismo. Algo positivo é exigido, suponho eu.

Pois não, para começar com a maior generalização possível, sou anarquista por que o anarquismo e a filosofia do anarquismo são conducentes à minha felicidade. “Ah, fosse esse o caso, é claro que deveríamos todos ser anarquistas”, dirão os arquistas em uníssono — ao menos aqueles que estejam emancipados de superstições religiosas e éticas —, “mas você não nos respondeu, pois negamos que o anarquismo nos seja conducente à felicidade”.

De fato, meus amigos? Porque não acredito quando o dizem; ou, para ser mais cortês, eu não acredito que possam afirmar tal coisa ao conhecer verdadeiramente o anarquismo.

Pois quais são as condições da felicidade? Da perfeita felicidade, muitas. Mas as primeiras e principais condições são poucas e simples. Não são senão a liberdade e a prosperidade material? Não é essencial para a felicidade de cada ser desenvolvido que ele e aqueles que o circundam sejam livres e que estejam tranquilos em relação à satisfação de suas necessidades materiais? Parece inútil negar tais fatos e, no caso da existência da negação, seria inútil argumentar. Nenhuma evidência de que a felicidade humana tenha aumentado juntamente à liberdade humana convenceria um homem incapaz de apreciar o valor da liberdade sem o reforço pela indução. E para todos que não sejam tal indivíduo, é autoevidente que das duas condições citadas — liberdade e riqueza — a primeira tem precedência como promotora da felicidade. Cada um dos fatores isoladamente seria capaz apenas de produzir uma imitação pobre da felicidade se não acompanhado do outro; porém, no balanço geral, muita liberdade e pouca riqueza seria uma situação preferível à muita riqueza e pouca liberdade. A acusação dos socialistas arquistas de que os anarquistas sejam burgueses é verdade somente até este ponto — seu horror à sociedade burguesa pode ser grande, mas seu amor à liberdade parcial vigente é maior do que a escravidão completa do socialismo de estado. De minha parte, consigo observar com maior prazer — ou melhor, menor dor — as atuais ebulientes lutas, nas quais alguns se libertam e outros não, alguns caem outros ascendem, alguns são ricos e muitos são pobres, mas nenhum está completamente acorrentado ou desesperançoso de um futuro melhor, do que consigo vislumbrar o ideal do sr. Thaddeus Wakkeman* de uma comunidade uniforme e miserável formada por um rebanho plácido e servil.

Portanto, repito, eu não acredito que muitos dos arquistas possam ser persuadidos a dizer que a liberdade não seja a condição primária da felicidade e, nesse caso, eles não poderão negar que o anarquismo, que não é senão outro nome para a liberdade, é conducente à felicidade. Sendo isso verdadeiro, eu não me furtei à questão e já estabeleci meu argumento. Nada mais é necessário para justificar meu credo anarquista. Mesmo que alguma forma de arquismo pudesse ser imaginada a ponto de criar infinita riqueza e distribuí-la com perfeita igualdade (perdoe a absurda hipótese de distribuição do infinito), o fato primordial de que esse sistema seria uma negação da condição inicial da felicidade nos obrigaria a rejeitá-lo e a aceitar sua alternativa: o anarquismo.

Embora isso seja o bastante, não é tudo. É suficiente justificativa, mas não suficiente inspiração. A felicidade possível em qualquer sociedade que não aperfeiçoe a distribuição de riqueza presente não pode ser descrita como beatífica. Nenhuma perspectiva pode ser suficientemente atraente se não prometer ambos os requisitos da felicidade — a liberdade e a riqueza. O anarquismo promete ambos. De fato, promete o primeiro como resultado do segundo.

Isso nos leva à esfera da economia? A liberdade produzirá abundância e distribuirá a riqueza de forma equitativa? Essa é a questão remanescente a se considerar. E certamente não pode ser tratada em apenas um artigo para Twentieth Century. Algumas generalizações são permissíveis, no máximo.

O que causa a distribuição desigual de riquezas? “A competição”, afirmam os socialistas de estado. Se estiverem corretos, de fato, estamos em má situação, porque, nesse caso, jamais poderemos chegar à riqueza sem sacrificar a liberdade de que precisamos. Felizmente, eles não estão certos. Não é a competição, mas o monopólio que priva o trabalho de seu produto. Desconsiderados salários, heranças, presentes e jogos, todos os processos pelos quais os homens adquirem a riqueza repousam sobre monopólios, proibições e negações da liberdade. Os juros e os aluguéis de construções repousam sobre o monopólio bancário, a proibição da competição nas finanças, a negação da liberdade de emitir moeda; as rendas advém do monopólio das terras, da negação da liberdade de uso das terras vagas; os lucros além dos salários ocorrem por conta dos monopólios tarifários e das patentes, pela proibição e limitação da competição das indústrias e artes. Há somente uma exceção, comparativamente trivial; refiro-me à renda econômica em contraste à renda monopolística. Ela não se deve a qualquer negação da liberdade, mas se trata de uma das desigualdades naturais. Provavelmente sempre existirá, embora a completa liberdade deva mitigá-la; disso não tenho dúvidas. Porém, não espero que jamais chegue ao ponto da inexistência que o sr. M’Cready antecipa tão confiantemente. Na pior das hipóteses, contudo, será um problema menor, não mais digno de consideração e comparação do que a pequena disparidade que sempre existirá devido a desigualdades de habilidade.

Se, assim, todos esses métodos de extorsão do trabalho se devem a negações da liberdade, o remédio óbvio consiste em sua realização. Destrua o monopólio bancário e estabeleça a liberdade financeira e os juros cairão, por influência benéfica da competição. O capital será liberado, os negócios prosperarão, novos empreendimentos surgirão, o trabalho será demandado e gradualmente os salários subirão até o ponto de igualdade a seu produto. O mesmo vale para os outros monopólios. Acabe com as tarifas, destrua as patentes, derrube as grades e o trabalho rapidamente tomará posse do que é seu. E a humanidade viverá em liberdade e conforto.

É isso que quero ver e em que tanto gosto de pensar. Uma vez que o anarquismo realizará esse estado de coisas, sou um anarquista. Afirmá-lo não é prová-lo, disso eu sei. Porém, o anarquismo não pode ser refutado ela mera negação. Ainda aguardo alguém que me mostre por história, fatos ou lógica que os homens têm desejos sociais superiores à liberdade e à riqueza e que o arquismo é capaz de garantir sua satisfação. Até lá, os fundamentos de meu credo político e econômico permanecerão como colocados neste breve artigo.

* Thaddeus Burr Wakeman (1834-1913) foi um conhecido positivista americano.

Traduzido por Erick Vasconcelos.

Mike Whitney discusses the Ukraine and U.S. intervention.

Kevin Carson discusses the role of the commons in market anarchism.

Kevin Carson discusses how Obama doesn’t want to defeat ISIS too badly.

Cory Massimino discusses individualist anarchism and hierarchy.

Kevin Carson discusses a book on new forms of worker organization.

Mel Gurtov discusses America’s return to Iraq.

Corey Robin discusses Labor Day readings.

Rizwan Zulfiqar Bhutta discusses lessons in counter-terrorism.

Ron Jacobs discusses the rational unreason of imperial war.

Conor Friedersdorf discusses what going to war with Syria would really mean for the U.S.

Robert Murphy discusses why we need to scrap the empire to have a free society at home.

Ezra Klein discusses the DNC’s braindead attack on Rand Paul.

Lew Rockwell discusses why libertarians are winning.

Lucy Steigerwald discusses why we don’t need a police czar.

Anthony Gregory discusses class theory in the first part of a series.

Tariq Ali discusses current Pakistani politics.

Benjamin W. Powell discusses market regulation of secondhand smoke.

Nathan Goodman discusses the labor politics of prisons.

Rick Sterling discusses myths about the conflict in Syria.

Dave Lindorff discusses the re-invasion of Iraq.

Belen Fernandez discusses Patrick Cockburn’s new book on ISIS.

Thom Holterman discusses Gary Chartier’s book on anarchy and legal order.

Lucy Steigerwald discusses why reassessing WW2 is a good idea.

Justin Raimondo discusses anti-interventionism and its discontents.

Rachel Burger discusses incest and the state.

Sheldon Richman discusses whether freedom requires empire.

Sheldon Richman discusses the crisis in Ukraine.

Jeff Sparrow discusses wars conducted in the name of humanitarianism.

Vassily Ivanchuk beats Alexey  Shirov

Vassily Ivanchuk beats Gary Kasparov.

When I saw A. Barton Hinkle’s hit job on the Wobblies (“Meet the Left-Wing Extremist Running for U.S. Senate,” Reason, September 3), I had to double-check to make sure I was on the right website. Was it FrontPage Magazine? Breitbart? Nope — it was Reason!

Reason prints some fairly right-leaning stuff, but seldom anything like this that’s just Republican talking points from beginning to end, with virtually no actual libertarianism at any point in between. Hinkle spends roughly the first half of his article on by-the-numbers victimology about “liberal media bias,” whining that the media would have been all over a Republican as far to the Right as his subject — Montana Democratic Senate Candidate Susan Curtis — is to the Left. When some Tea Party troglodyte pipes up about rape or “illegal aliens,” Hinkle says, the press is all over it, howling about the “takeover of the GOP by right-wing extremists.” But the librul meejia ignores Curtis’s ties to the I.W.W. because she’s a Democrat and a woman.

Um, well. Yeah, the establishment media still tends to be “liberal,” if by that you mean upper-middle class managerial-professional types half an inch to the left of center, who are slightly friendlier than Republicans to abortion rights and welfare but agree with them on about 90% of the basic structural issues of corporate capitalism. But when it comes to most stuff they’re just pro-power — which means the same center-left talking head show types asked the same softball questions about drones, torture and NSA surveillance under both Bush and Obama, and would like to see Edward Snowden stand trial for treason. Not to mention all the #UniteBlue types geared up to support Hillary Clinton, who’s far more of a hawk and a police statist than Obama.

But if there’s an asymmetry in media coverage of the Democratic and Republican Parties’ respective extremists, it might be because there’s an asymmetry in how the two parties treat those extremists. The press pays lots of attention to “the wingnuts who’ve taken over the GOP” because, well, they’ve taken over the GOP. When the Koch Brothers fund a candidate who speaks in tongues and bites the heads off bats, GOP establishment politicians respond by grabbing a bat and chomping down. Their biggest fear is being unseated by Tea Party primary challengers. On the other hand if the center-left media ignores the Democratic Party’s left-wing fringe, that’s because the Democratic Party’s center-left establishment also ignores them. Principled left-leaning critics of the Iraq War, drones and the NSC get their funding cut off by the DNC. The Democrats remain a corporate center-left party and circle the wagons against anyone further to the left, while the Republicans shift as far right as necessary to prevent the Tea Party from undermining the loyalty of their base.

As for Hinkle’s historically illiterate nonsense about the Industrial Workers of the World, where do I even start? He denounces the Wobbly Preamble’s famous statement that “the working class and employing class have nothing in common,” and its call for the working class to “take possession of the means of production” and “abolish the wage system” as “warmed-over Lenin.” And he calls them “communists.”

Notwithstanding that Lenin took a very dim view of those in Soviet Russia who, like the Wobblies, preferred worker self-management to government-appointed factory managers (and by “dim view” I mean sending the “left deviationists” who supported direct workers’ control to the Gulag).

Sure there are commies — libertarian communists, the kind who quote Kropotkin and Luxemburg — in the Wobblies. Not many of the Leninist kind, though. There are also lots of syndicalists. Also a few Proudhonian mutualists. And even some market-friendly individualist anarchists like Joseph Labadie were Wobs in the early days.

Several of us here at Center for a Stateless Society, a market anarchist think tank, are current or past Wobblies. I have an expired Red Card myself (mainly because I’m lazy about paying my dues). We think state intervention in the market has promoted corporate managerial hierarchy and wage labor far beyond their free market levels, and we cheerfully echo libertarian Claire Wolfe’s call to destroy the job culture.

I’d also like to note just how ironic it is for a publication like Reason, which is so uniformly hostile to “union bosses” and NLRB-certified union shops, to run an article blasting a union that also hates these things. The Wobblies, by and large, prefer to bypass NLRB certification and union bureaucracy, instead functioning as self-organized unions on the shop floor, eschewing exclusive bargaining unit representation and automatic dues deductions, and returning to tactics like wildcat strikes and direct action on the job that the Wagner Act was passed precisely to prevent.

Hinkle actually compares the I.W.W., in sheer odiousness, to the Klan. Well, except there are no legitimate reasons to hate, terrorize and lynch black people — but plenty of legitimate reasons to believe corporate power and the present distribution of wealth and income result from injustice.

There is, however, one organization that really is as evil as the KKK, and was founded for the express purpose of terrorist attacks on Wobblies, directly analogous to anti-worker terrorism by Mussolini’s industrialist-funded black shirts: The American Legion. Maybe Hinkle could take them on.

On the liberal wing of American politics, US Senator Elizabeth Warren’s (D-MA) success in capturing the love of millions is astounding. Her image as savior of indebted workers and unheard voices in America strikes a note with those concerned about reduced class mobility, and rightly so.

Consider Warren’s speech introducing emergency legislation to allow refinancing of student loans. She noted, “Congress set interest rates on student loans at artificially high interest rates that generate extra money for the government. … These young people … deserve a fair shot at an affordable education.” Her indignation at mounting student loan debt is admirable, but her cures may be worse than the disease.

It’s absurd to suggest that the solution to overpriced government student loans is to eliminate profit from the program. Loans are supposed to be the current use of one’s future capital. Interest rates signal how efficient this advance is. Given that government cannot determine the efficiency of investment in education, it has no business setting prices by fiat. Still, Warren’s program is not merely one among a million other arbitrary suggestions for government set prices. In her words, “Our work will not be done until we have eliminated all of the profits from the government-run student loan program.” One wonders if she has any concept of what prices do. Warren doesn’t just want government to continue putting students in massive debt; she wants it to give students even more reason to malinvest their savings and throw themselves at the mercy of the state’s financial caprice.

Government distorts supply by propping up banks whose oligopoly power makes the real cost of lending money obscure from public view and undiscoverable even by the banks themselves. When costs are unknowable, market-clearing prices are unknowable to at least the same degree. Neither government nor banks can set efficient prices. However, even if the government were capable of effectively pricing loans, there’s no good reason to believe it would try to. Politicians, bureaucrats and their lobbyist friends aren’t interested in market efficiency. Politicians like Warren get elected by trumpeting the cause of the debt-drowned graduate while others get campaign support by driving students from expensive government loans into the hands of private banks.

However inscrutable the precise equilibrium price, it’s reasonable to think that, without government, the supply of student loans would skyrocket, making education exceptionally affordable. Without barriers to entry, crowd-funded education loans might allow people to make small investments in many students, spreading risk and decreasing upfront costs to any individual lender. Mutual funds in student loans provided through Indiegogo or Kickstarter analogs would open the floodgates of investment money even from those just barely out of poverty. With the possibilities for new funding mechanisms, interest rates on student loans would fall enormously.

With good reason to expect a market-clearing price of student loans lower than today’s price, it is almost unbelievable that Warren manages to suggest a figure guaranteed to be TOO low. Market competition seeks out prices where resources are most efficiently used to satisfy people’s preferences. If it happens that the efficient price falls below the cost of a good, that good simply won’t be produced. No supplier wants to lose money. If Warren understood this, she would see the absurdity of her anti-profit mandate. She wants to force expenditure of resources in ways that underutilizes them. That money could be used to pay wages to workers not in school, or to fund the education of students who wouldn’t be working. In a classic case of Bastiat’s seen and unseen, Warren improperly redirects financial capital toward education.

New York Federal Reserve data shows an underemployment rate of about 44% for recent US college graduates. Though recent grads are more prone to underemployment than experienced workers, this still reveals a considerable problem with the notion that simply by going to college automatically improves employment opportunities.

Among the alternatives: Praxis is building an education program designed to compete with bachelor’s degrees in the job market on a mere ten month learning period, $12,000 tuition and paid partnership with businesses that pay ten dollars per hour for forty weeks at thirty hours per week, covering that $12,000 tuition. Surely Senator Warren would agree that ten months at no net cost is better than four years at even a low-interest loan if it creates the same job opportunities.

So what does Warren want? A simple supply and demand argument shows that if enacted, her vision would indebt more students by encouraging them to enter an overvalued self-investment plan, misusing what little financial capital is available in the US, stunting job growth for her maleducated aspiring wage slaves and encouraging more dependency on people like Warren. This doesn’t sound like a “fair shot” for “these young people.”

Em julho de 2014, a página oficial de Dilma Rousseff no Facebook comemorou a produção recorde de minério de ferro pela Vale. Segundo a página da presidente, a empresa “quebrou recorde histórico de produção de minério de ferro para o segundo trimestre”, o que representou uma “alta de 12,6% em relação ao mesmo período de 2013”.

Rapidamente, várias páginas apontaram para o “ato falho” de Dilma Rousseff, que teria celebrado o bom desempenho de uma empresa privatizada — supostamente anátema para o PT, sempre contrário a privatizações e particularmente contrário à venda da própria Vale em 1997. Rodrigo Constantino, em seu blog no site da revista Veja, não perdeu tempo em apontar para a incoerência dilmista: “Seria um reconhecimento tardio de que a privatização da estatal, tão condenada pelo PT, foi boa afinal?”

Mas não havia qualquer incoerência da parte de Dilma nem do governo, porque a Vale é uma estatal. Isto é, a Vale, fundamentalmente, nunca deixou de ser controlada pelo estado brasileiro.

Não quero que reste qualquer dúvida, então vale repetir: ao contrário do que pensa o autor de Privatize Já, a Vale é literalmente comandada pelo governo do Brasil. Prova do fato foi a demissão do presidente Roger Agnelli da empresa em 2011 por pressão do próprio governo petista. O acontecimento, amplamente noticiado na época, foi extremamente elucidativo. Ele mostrava não só a conexão próxima entre as grandes empresas e o governo brasileiro, mas também como temos uma compreensão absolutamente inadequada sobre o processo das privatizações no Brasil.

As “privatizações” no Brasil não foram marcadas por qualquer transferência ou pulverização de poder e controle econômico; elas, efetivamente, foram reestruturações corporativas que mudaram muito pouco a distribuição do controle econômico e modificaram o regime jurídico das empresas apenas o suficiente para que se tornassem economicamente viáveis novamente.

Evidentemente ocorreram melhorias técnicas e aumentos produtivos; é também evidente que esse era o objetivo inicial das reestruturações, que não incluía qualquer mudança substancial no controle acionário das empresas “vendidas”. As privatizações brasileiras não foram uma maneira de livrar o estado do controle sobre empresas, mas foi a maneira que o estado brasileiro encontrou para manter o controle sobre elas.

A campanha eleitoral de 2014 conta com alguns candidatos que pretendem reavaliar os méritos das privatizações. Discutir as privatizações não é nada novo; a cada quatro anos há um novo ciclo de condenações a elas pontuados por alguns elogios infundados. A realidade é que apoiadores e opositores das privatizações falam de processos ideais imaginários. Poucos falam da realidade das privatizações no Brasil: não foi “entreguismo”, “privataria”; também não foi o ápice da “eficiência” e “enxugamento do estado”. Foi uma reformulação do aparato estatal e a inclusão da classe corporativa em seus quadros.

A privatização da Vale

As estatais eram um modelo esgotado nos anos 1990 e o estado brasileiro estava falido depois de uma década de hiperinflação. A privatização das estatais foi incluída como um dos fatores para o sucesso do Plano Real, que incluía “zerar o déficit público”. Essa zeragem do déficit público deveria incluir a receita dos leilões de empresas do governo.

A venda da Vale foi a maior privatização feita no Brasil e foi a que sofreu mais resistências — e, sim, o PT foi um dos partidos mais contrários, junto com grande parte da esquerda e de movimentos sociais. Para driblar as resistências, o estado brasileiro promoveu uma “coalizão de apoio”, que consistia basicamente em formar novos grupos de investimento encabeçados por fundos de pensão estatais. O BNDES patrocinou a formação da Valepar S.A., que controla o Conselho Administrativo da Vale, com 53,3% do capital votante. A Valepar é controlada por quatro fundos de pensão estatais, encabeçados pela Previ, que é o fundo dos funcionários do Banco do Brasil e maior fundo de pensão brasileiro, com 58% das ações. Além dos fundos de pensão, a Valepar ainda é controlada pelo Bradesco, pela multinacional Mitsui e pelo próprio BNDES, que possui 9,5% de suas ações.

Com a atuação do BNDES e a inclusão dos fundos de pensão estatais, o governo “viabilizava” as privatizações. E, assim, a nova Vale, privatizada em 1997 com dinheiro estatal, passou a ser controlada por fundos de pensão estatais e pelo BNDES. Desde o começo dos anos 2000, o BNDES e os fundos de pensão formam a rede de controle que não apenas comanda as empresas que deixaram de ser formalmente estatais, mas também colocam empresas nominalmente “privadas” (mesmo que não tenham sido estatais anteriormente) a serviço do governo.

Fundos de pensão e o controle dos sindicatos pelo estado

Os fundos de pensão, que foram criados nos anos 1970 para incentivar a poupança, se converteram na maior ferramenta de investimento do Brasil. Seu potencial de investimento, em 2010, já era de 300 bilhões de reais (16% do PIB), com perspectivas de crescimento. Em montante de investimentos, considerados como um todo, os fundos de pensão são ainda mais representativos que o BNDES — que já é o maior banco de “desenvolvimento” do mundo, ainda maior que o Banco Mundial (em 2009-10, por exemplo, o Banco Mundial fez empréstimos de cerca de US$ 40 bilhões, menos da metade do que o BNDES fez).

A partir do final dos anos 1980, os fundos de pensão ganharam cada vez mais participação das lideranças dos sindicatos, principalmente por conta de algumas reformas que ocorreram na época de Fernando Henrique Cardoso que abriram a gestão para os trabalhadores. Líderes sindicais se converteram em gerentes de fundos de pensão. A campanha de Lula em 2002 à presidência especificamente estimulava os trabalhadores a formarem esses fundos, não só como meio para aumentar o padrão de consumo dos trabalhadores, mas também para formarem blocos de controle em posições de investimento. Com isso, os fundos de pensão formados poderiam ser controlados pelo governo para direcionar políticas e “disciplinar” o capitalismo.

A unicidade e o imposto sindical do Brasil sempre ajudaram o estado nesse sentido, porque mantiveram os sindicatos sob a tutela governamental — o que jamais foi desafiado pelo governo petista. Não à toa, a partir do final dos anos 1980, os sindicatos brasileiros mais fortes (ligados às montadoras de carros no ABC paulista, por exemplo) passaram a adotar uma postura de “sindicalismo propositivo” ou “sindicalismo cidadão”, que é contrário a choques entre trabalhadores e classes gerenciais e enfatiza a inserção dos próprios trabalhadores em posições de gerência. A CUT e a Força Sindical, as maiores centrais sindicais do Brasil, representam perfeitamente esse paradigma e atuam como porta-vozes gerencialistas.

Assim, a legislação brasileira funciona como ferramenta para transformar os sindicatos monopolistas do país em instrumentos de política e controle econômico. Os maiores fundos de pensão do Brasil (Previ, Petros e Funcef) continuam sob controle direto do governo, assistindo funcionários do Banco do Brasil, da Petrobras e da Caixa Econômica. E com a conversão dos líderes sindicais (em sua maioria, componentes da Articulação, a tendência majoritária do PT) em gerentes de fundos de pensão, se tornando numa nova classe de managers, o governo ganhou acesso direto a esses fundos.

Em 2011, a revista Exame reportava como havia sido o processo de demissão de Roger Agnelli da presidência da Vale. “Roger, espera! Este é um assunto de acionistas. E está sendo tratado por nós, acionistas.” Quem disse isso foi Ricardo Flores, então presidente da Previ, o fundo de pensão principal entre os controladores da Vale, na época da discussão da saída de Agnelli da posição por pressão do governo Dilma. Ironicamente, mais tarde ele foi afastado da presidência da Previ por conta de disputas por poder.

BNDES: privatizações estatais, estatizações privadas

O BNDES é o maior banco de desenvolvimento do mundo. Foi instrumental nas privatizações e viabilizou a mudança formal de controle de 30% do PIB. Durante esse mesmo processo, o BNDES se colocou como parceiro-chave das novas empresas, como a própria Vale e outras, como as doze empresas que surgiram a partir da privatização da Telebrás. Mais tarde essas empresas foram unificadas com o nome Oi e o BNDES passou a controlar 25% de seu capital. Para viabilizar a compra da Brasil Telecom, que foi outra empresa que surgiu a partir da “privatização” da Telebrás, o BNDES fez novos empréstimos. Com a compra da Brasil Telecom pela Oi, a empresa ter 50% das ações sob poder do estado, através do BNDES e dos três maiores fundos de pensão (Previ, Petros e Funcef). Mais 20% das ações ficaram sob poder da Andrade Gutierrez, que também é extremamente dependente e simpática ao governo.

É até difícil encontrar trajetórias diferentes para as ex-estatais. Na verdade, o controle acionário através do BNDES e dos sindicatos também não conta toda a história. Os anos 1990 no Brasil assistiram a um processo de captura regulatória by design. Ato contínuo às privatizações, foram estabelecidas agências reguladoras para os novos setores em que o estado havia “deixado” de atuar. Foi o primeiro grande momento de trânsito entre o governo e as grandes corporações. Com os subsídios aos processos de privatização, as novas classes de empresários e acionistas não apenas ganharam acesso ao capital produtivo, mas também ganharam acesso ao estado na forma de representação regulatória. Foi um processo quase simultâneo no caso das telecomunicações.

Portanto, as “privatizações”, longe de cortar o acesso do estatal aos recursos produtivos, na verdade foram simplesmente uma reconfiguração organizacional do capital. O capital formalmente saiu debaixo da asa do estado, mas permaneceu sob seu controle efetivo e mudou seu regime jurídico sem maiores consequências econômicas. Não se trata apenas de dizer que o capital que foi “vendido” durante os anos 1990 tenha se assumido um papel “corporativista”; na verdade, esse capital continua a fazer parte do estado, é controlado diretamente (pelo BNDES e pelos fundos de pensão) ou indiretamente (através do aparato regulatório de controle conjunto das empresas e do governo) por ele.

O processo contrário também ocorreu em alta velocidade durante todo o governo petista (principalmente após a crise de 2008) e ainda está em curso até hoje. O BNDES passou a capitalizar corporações privadas e eleger seus braços político-econômicos. Isso incluiu a fusão da Perdigão e da Sadia, da VCP e da Aracruz Celulose, da Friboi com a Bertin, para aquisições da Ambev, entre várias outras. As empresas de construção também são braços de atuação do governo brasileiro. A Odebrecht, particularmente, é aliada do PT desde 1992, e durante os governos Lula e Dilma, se realinhou em diversos programas de infraestrutura e militares. Outras empresas, como Andrade Gutierrez e Camargo Corrêa, que tiveram seus crescimentos historicamente alinhados aos projetos de infraestrutura nacionais, atualmente são braços de execução de planos políticos do governo. O governo tem uma caixa de ferramentas completa com contratos e controle acionário direto pelo qual ele influencia o setor “privado” no Brasil.

Na verdade, é incorreto considerar que os grandes conglomerados no Brasil sejam “privados” ou “estatais”. É uma distinção sem qualquer significado nesse contexto; as privatizações criaram conglomerados mistos, com controle tanto privado quanto estatal e as grandes empresas que já eram privadas têm um nível de influência governamental grande o suficiente a ponto de os seus interesses e os interesses do governo estarem interligados. Não existe oposição entre o particular e o público, entre o privado e o estatal, porque há uma convergência de ambições entre grandes empresas e do estado que os funde.

O vocabulário das privatizações

Tanto quem apoia quanto quem rejeita as privatizações tende a sua posição pelos motivos errados.

As melhorias técnicas e dos serviços que aconteceram com as privatizações, no Brasil, não se deveram a mudanças fundamentais no controle do capital. Foram reformas que alteraram a estrutura organizacional e de incentivos das empresas “públicas”, fazendo com que sua capitalização e suas ações fossem racionalizadas. A melhora que de fato existiu no desempenho das empresas privatizadas não se deveu a uma desestatização, que não ocorreu, mas à sua reestruturação. (Da mesma forma, houve uma melhora no desempenho e na capitalização da Petrobras, mesmo sem ter deixado de ser estatal. As privatizações, assim como a abertura do capital da Petrobras, podem ser vistas então como estratégias de capitalização mais do que como cortes no poder estatal.)

Nossa linguagem reflete uma dualidade entre o “privado” e o “estado” e entre “privatizar” e “estatizar” que simplesmente não são reais. Essas dicotomias não têm poder explicativo porque o estado não está limitado por seu poder de ação formal e porque o estado não é uma barreira intransponível que as empresas não conseguem ultrapassar. Basta ver, por exemplo, a trajetória do ex-Ministro do Desenvolvimento, Indústria e Comércio Exterior Luiz Fernando Furlan, que foi instrumental no processo de fusão da Sadia com a Perdigão. Furlan saiu da Sadia para entrar no governo. Após a fusão, saiu do governo e voltou para a presidência do Conselho Administrativo da empresa.

Falar em “privatizações” é uma cortina de fumaça, porque as privatizações não passaram de uma revolução dentro do poder, viabilizando a continuidade do controle estatal sobre setores vitais da economia. E é impossível reclamar sobre a ingerência governamental sobre empresas privadas: o grande empresariado brasileiro é parte do estado. A Vale é braço político-econômico do governo brasileiro; seu processo de privatização e capitalização foi estruturado justamente com esse propósito. Quando o cabeça da Vale deixou de ser interessante para o governo brasileiro, ele foi demitido.

Nossa linguagem não está preparada para refletir essa falta de discrepância entre o que é público e o que é privado. Também é difícil para a maioria das pessoas pensar no governo e nos grandes conglomerados como parte do mesmo sistema.

Além disso, tendemos a tratar o que é “estatal” como algo público e o que é “privado” como algo particular; nenhuma dessas definições é necessária. É perfeitamente plausível e, na verdade, é o que ocorre na maior parte dos casos que um bem estatal seja totalmente “privatizado”; ou seja, é perfeitamente possível (e, eu argumentaria, inevitável) que os bens estatais sirvam somente a uma pequena casta. Os termos que usamos são tão absolutamente impróprios que falamos de “nacionalização” ao falar de empresas estatizadas e de “entrega” quando falamos de privatização. A experiência política e econômica brasileira prova que são todos termos inadequados e que nós temos que desenvolver um vocabulário que represente a realidade como ela é: onde empresas estatais ou “nacionalizadas” servem só aos interesses do estado e de grupos ligados a ele e onde empresas privadas possuem interesses convergentes aos do governo — ambos em oposição à população de forma geral.

Nossas ideias políticas só estão preparadas para lidar com grandes generalizações que colocam o governo e o setor privado como categoricamente distintos e que suas influências um sobre o outro são apenas desvios pontuais — tendemos a pensar que, na maioria dos casos, o governo e as empresas fiquem presos a seus papéis ideais. As privatizações, segundo esse pensamento, serviram para tirar do governo o controle de empresas e recursos e colocá-los em uma esfera sob a qual ele não teria qualquer influência. Embora as pessoas geralmente reconheçam as forças que atuam no relacionamento entre o governo e as empresas, a maioria tende a adotar essa visão ingênua e a-histórica ao analisar processos e defender suas visões político-ideológicas.

Permanece o fato: as privatizações não foram uma diminuição, mas uma forma de estender e reformular o poder do estado. E o discurso pró-privatizações, assim, as defende nesses termos e não sob condições ideais. O contrário também vale: os opositores e detratores das privatizações tendem a pensar nelas como uma diminuição do poder do estado. Mas se as empresas de fato continuam sob controle estatal, qual pode ser o problema?

Semifascismo

Qualquer discurso pró-privatizações no Brasil, como alguns que têm surgido durante as campanhas eleitorais, deve levar em conta o seguinte fato: o estado brasileiro e as grandes empresas são uma só entidade.

Isso significa que qualquer esforço privatizante deverá levar em conta a presença e a influência do estado como fato fundamental. “Privatizar”, assim, não é modificar radicalmente a estrutura de poder do estado, mas fazer leves ajustes e mudanças em regimes jurídicos de capitalização de empresas que, em última análise, permanecem sob o controle estatal. Logo, tanto a ideia de privatizar quanto seu correspondente estatizador são ideologias fundantes do poder do estado.

Deve ser óbvio que privatizar, em si, não é passaporte para o desmonte do poder do governo; na Rússia, por exemplo, basicamente a mesma elite soviética assumiu o controle dos recursos “privatizados” na transição para o capitalismo.

No Brasil, o controle do governo sobre os grandes conglomerados corporativos nacionais “privatizados” e mesmo sobre as empresas que já eram nominalmente “privadas” não foi acaso nem um processo que sofreu resistências internas; a classe empresarial sempre esteve de braços abertos a esse relacionamento. Houve, na última década e meia, especialmente, um alinhamento da visão da cúpula do governo formada pela elite petista e o empresariado nacional. Esse alinhamento também incluiu uma incorporação do velho nacionalismo defendido pela elite militar, que está confortavelmente encastelada e representada dentro do governo (apesar do que alguns conservadores afirmam, como se os militares fossem ignorados e humilhados pelo atual regime).

O Brasil vem desenvolvendo, na prática, um sistema semifascista de subsídios sistemáticos aos grandes capitalistas, de controle direto e indireto pelo governo das empresas e de comando dos sindicatos (que, através dos fundos de pensão, se tornaram também capitalistas).

As críticas de direita e esquerda a esse sistema são inadequadas porque acabam defendendo um aspecto diferente desse mesmo sistema durante o ataque. A defesa das privatizações, por exemplo, pode servir como crítica ao poder do governo, mas, se executada como foi no Brasil, serve também para estender o controle sobre empresas e capital que o governo possui.

Aliados e inimigos

Privatizar não é suficiente. O setor corporativo e o governo são uma só classe. As desregulamentações que ocorreram não foram capazes de frear a influência estatal sobre a economia, mas simplesmente alteraram seu caráter. Nosso vocabulário político não reflete bem as reais questões políticas, porque coloca em oposição fundamental categorias que não são fundamentalmente distintas: privado e estatal, corporações e governo. A oposição real está entre aqueles que possuem e os que não possuem o poder.

Como eu mencionei em dois artigos que comentavam a atuação sindical no Brasil, a articulação que ocorre atualmente no país se dá entre setores empresariais, a elite estatal e as lideranças sindicais. Entre eles, se formou uma nova classe gerencialista que representa as aspirações do indivíduo e decide a repartição do bolo econômico. A única forma de resistir a essa realidade — que, sim, foi moldada pelas privatizações — é com a percepção de que a classe dominante não se limita a um setor categórico de “empresários” ou “burocratas”. É uma classe mista com livre trânsito dentro do governo, dos sindicatos e dos conselhos administrativos.

Com o mais novo escândalo bilionário de corrupção na Petrobras, alguns já falam da necessidade de privatizar a empresa para tirá-la da esfera de interferência política. Mas o que se deve lembrar é que as privatizações brasileiras jamais tiveram o intuito de retirar do estado seu poder de influência.

O público e o privado, o capital e o trabalho agora não são opostos, são aliados. Por isso não é surpreendente que Dilma comemore os 12,6% de alta na produção de minério.

Quem pagou por esse recorde foi você.

Rand Paul has been touted as a libertarian Republican. In spite of the fact that he has claimed to not be a libertarian. This claim is also peculiar due to his statements about not wanting to end the War on Drugs. Not to mention his promotion of a “pro-life” anti-abortion rights bill. And his lack of belief in a borderless world. These are all positions contrary to radical libertarian principle.

Not only would we see a violation of said principle from a Rand Paul presidency, it would help sustain the present perception amongst many non-libertarians that libertarianism is reactionary. This will make it more difficult for left-libertarians to reach out to the non-libertarian left. Something not at all good for our cause.

Genuinely radical libertarian politics doesn’t require a constitutional conservative savior to coming to our rescue. It requires bottom up direct action. And this is precisely what a preoccupation with the presidency as a mechanism for change ignores. It can only contribute to a bizarre “libertarian” cult of personality surrounding the holder of executive power.

Such cults of personality have wreaked major havoc throughout human history. Mao and Stalin worship come to mind. Libertarians should strive to avoid a repeat of this. Of course, Rand Paul is not proposing Stalinism or Maoism, but, a cult of persona surrounding him could lead to him getting away with the liberty destroying measures mentioned above.

Presidential politics is just not the right thing for libertarians to be involved with. One only need look at the deference shown towards Obama and George W. Bush by their respective partisans. They can literally get away with murder due to the respect offered them.

The transcendence of aforementioned presidential politics is key to the project of liberty. A commander in chief is fit for a militarized society, but, not an egalitarian one. Industrial organization such as that championed by friends of liberty calls for equality rather than hierarchies of command. A Rand Paul presidency would be a setback for that project. It would wrap the mantle of the presidency in the aura of liberty. Something that would lead to disaster for actual freedom.

In lieu of voting for Rand Paul, libertarians can work to create liberty by labor organizing, copwatch programs, and other such grassroots efforts. All of this will do far more to help the most disadvantaged members of society than a Rand Paul presidency would.

In a startling article, Daniel McCarthy, the admirable editor of The American Conservative magazine (TAC), writes, “Successive British and American empires created and upheld the world order in which [classical] liberalism could flourish.” In other words, as he writes in “Why Liberalism Means Empire,” “Liberalism and empire reinforced one another in manifold ways.” Therefore, if we want an enduring liberal democratic society, we must acknowledge the necessity of a U.S.-enforced global empire.

I say the article is startling because for years TAC has been the place to find solid critiques of George W. Bush/Barack Obama-style interventionist foreign policy. But this is a call for American global policing, albeit not as Bush or Obama would have it.

Where libertarians and classical liberals historically have viewed empire as inimical to domestic freedom and free markets, not to mention the freedom and well-being of those ruled by colonial powers, McCarthy makes a historical case for reconsidering this position. Without the secure space provided by a liberal empire — first British, now American — liberal democracy could not have emerged and flourished, he insists. But the dependence of liberalism on empire has been unappreciated, leading many pro-freedom thinkers to believe erroneously that British involvement in Europe, 1914-18, and U.S. intervention in Europe, 1941-45, were terrible blunders. Wrong, he says. Intervention was necessary for the maintenance of domestic liberty and prosperity:

Liberal anti-imperialists today, whether libertarian or progressive, make the same mistakes Britain’s pacifists and America’s interwar noninterventionists once did: they imagine that the overall ideological complexion of the world, as determined by the state most capable of projecting power, need not affect their values and habits at home. They believe that liberalism is possible without empire.

There is little historical evidence for this.

McCarthy is no Wilsonian or neoconservative who longs for crusades to convert others to democratic liberalism; he understands that liberalism is a product of a slow social evolution. He has no time for those with “Napoleonic ambitions to liberalize the planet through revolution.”

Moreover, he writes, “Liberal imperialism is not directed toward gratuitous conquest but toward maintaining a global environment conducive to liberalism.”

He cautions,

Just as there are idealists who deny that power is the basis of the peaceful order upon which liberal democracy rests, there are other, more dangerous idealists who deny that power is a limited commodity that cannot simply be wished into existence by a feat of will. This is a view characteristic of neoconservatives….

In contrast, his is a far more modest empire, one that seeks merely to maintain global order by, among other things, keeping trade routes open and preventing the rise of a power-projecting tyranny. It aims to “preserve conditions in which the happy accident of liberalism can survive and grow, if at all, by a slow process of assimilation.”

McCarthy thinks one can coherently combine anti-imperialism and anti-liberalism — he cites Pat Buchanan and George Kennan as examples: “they would like America to be more like Sparta than Athens.” But this outlook is unacceptable to modern Americans: “After 200 years, liberalism has soaked too deep into the fiber of America’s national character for a new path of national self-sufficiency to hold much popular appeal.”

So liberalism is here to stay, and McCarthy believes that in the nature of things, liberal anti-imperialism is incoherent. He does not celebrate this “bitter truth about liberalism and its imperial character.” That’s just how it is.

So he opts for a “conservative realism,” which recognizes “that America will not be anything other than broadly liberal and democratic for a long time to come, and liberal democracy requires a delicately balanced system of international security upheld by an empire or hegemon” — namely, for the foreseeable future at least, the United States.

Key to McCarthy’s thesis is that “power is the basis of the peaceful order upon which liberal democracy rests.” He writes, “Liberal democracy is unnatural. It is a product of power and security, not innate human sociability. It is peculiar rather than universal, accidental rather than teleologically preordained.”

This puts McCarthy at odds with the core of the liberal tradition, which found the seeds of individual liberty and voluntary cooperation in the social and reason-based nature of the human race. Adam Smith referred to the “system of natural liberty.” Thomas Paine wrote in Rights of Man that “the great part” of social order is not the product of power — i.e., government — but of “mutual dependence and reciprocal interest.” It is tyranny that is unnatural, according to liberalism.

I hope that fairly describes McCarthy’s position. Now, what can be said about it?

My first reaction was that McCarthy has a rather liberal notion of liberalism — so liberal that it includes the illiberal corporate state, or what Albert Jay Nock called the “merchant-state,” that is, a powerful political-legal regime aimed first and foremost at fostering an economic system on behalf of masters, to use Adam Smith’s term. (The libertarian Thomas Hodgskin, not Marx, was the first to disparage “capitalists” for their use of the state to gain exploitative privileges.)

If by liberalism we mean instead what Adam Smith, J.B. Say, Frédéric Bastiat, Hodgskin, Herbert Spencer, or Benjamin Tucker had in mind (despite their marginal differences), it is hard to see how the British and American empires were good at nurturing and protecting it. Had McCarthy argued that empire is indispensable to (state, political, or crony) capitalism, he’d get no argument here. But where is the historical evidence that radical free-market liberalism required the protective umbrella of a global empire? The fact is that societies regarded as liberal have in essential ways moved ever further from radical liberalism while enjoying that protection.

McCarthy’s case relies in large measure on his claim that the “ideological complexion of the world, as determined by the state most capable of projecting power,” is likely to influence domestic “values and habits.” That is, a society won’t long remain liberal in an increasingly illiberal world. Just as the U.S. government adopted illiberal measures after the Bolshevik Revolution and after the Soviet Union ended up in eastern and central Europe after World War II, he writes, so a liberal noninterventionist America would have moved ever further from liberalism had a tyrannical power-projecting state ruled the rest of the world.

Maybe, but maybe not. It would depend on factors left undiscussed, most especially the population’s ideological commitment to freedom. (See Robert Murphy’s excellent rebuttal of McCarthy’s Keynesian-style argument concerning America, World War II, and the totalitarian powers.)

McCarthy insists that “power is the basis of the peaceful order upon which liberal democracy rests” and writes that “in time, liberal sentiment grew so strong within imperial Britain that its exponents began to lose sight of the security context that made liberalism possible. Idealists and pacifists — the privileged children of empire — fancied that the peace was a product not of power but of good intentions.”

But McCarthy is wrong in thinking that power, that is, force, rules the world. There is something stronger: ideas. As Jeffrey Rogers Hummel puts it in “The Will to Be Free: The Role of Ideology in National Defense,” “Ideas ultimately determine in which direction [people] wield their weapons or whether they wield them at all.”

“All successful States are legitimized,” Hummel writes.

No government rules for long through brute force alone, no matter how undemocratic. Enough of its subjects must accept its power as necessary or desirable for its rule to be widely enforced and observed. But the very social consensus that legitimizes the State also binds it. Ideology therefore becomes the wild card that accounts for public-spirited mass movements overcoming the free-rider problem and affecting significant changes in government policy.… Successful ideas therefore can induce alterations in the size, scope, and intrusiveness of government.

If this is the case with respect to the government a population labors under, Hummel argues, then it is also the case with respect to potentially threatening foreign governments. In other words, protecting ourselves from other governments is not essentially different from protecting ourselves from the government in our midst. The same ideological forces that keep “one’s own” government from aggressing even more than it does, and that are required to roll back that government’s power, are also suited to keeping foreign governments away. Hummel writes,

Much successful State conquest has been intermediated through local ruling classes, who remain legitimized among the subject population.… The effective dominance of would-be conquerors who possess military superiority but face the implacable hostility of an ideologically united population is more problematic. The English hold on Ireland was, due to this factor, always tenuous, and one can find similar instances in the modern day.

McCarthy sees the “military force of a superpower” as virtually irresistible. But what about Vietnam versus the United States? How about Afghanistan against the British, Soviets, and Americans? Superior force failed in large measure because of the motivation and ideological commitment of the indigenous populations.

An apparent weakness in this argument is that ideological commitment — eternal vigilance — will be hard to maintain. It’s a fair point, and Hummel agrees there are no guarantees. But a similar challenge can be posed to McCarthy. Why should we believe that the administrators of a “liberal empire” will remain liberal? McCarthy’s article is strangely void of references to rent-seeking (the buying of political advantages by the well-connected), the plague of concentrated benefits for interest groups and dispersed costs for the masses, and Hayek’s “why the worst get on top” phenomenon. The military-industrial complex is hardly a passive beneficiary of government policy.

We’ve had enough experience with government to know that even well-intended policies will likely be turned to the benefit of special interests (“free-trade imperialism”) and that the people most adept at deception and most comfortable with administering the machinery of violence will be most attracted to political power and best at procuring it. What’s to keep the imperial apparatus from falling into the hands of politicians who see war and conquest as the keys not just to security but also to glory, manliness, and national greatness?

Thus if, as McCarthy writes, “liberalism … tends to be entirely contingent on the liberalizing security conditions established by some great empire,” then it stands on shaky grounds indeed. History seems to illustrate this.

We have many other reasons to doubt that liberalism is safe in imperial hands. One of them is the Hayekian “knowledge problem.” Even well-intended central planners of the international order, like central planners of an economy, will necessarily lack the local knowledge of foreign societies they would need to do their job. (See Iraq, Afghanistan, etc.) In short, they will screw up (but without personally suffering the consequences).

McCarthy says that “judgment must be exercised to discern essential conflicts (like the Cold War and World War II) from absolutely inessential ones (like Iraq) and relatively ambiguous ones like World War I.” But even if we agree with McCarthy on what’s essential, inessential, and ambiguous, we have no grounds for believing that the administrators will get it just right. After all, they operate under perverse incentives, spending other people’s money and facing few personal consequences. And even when they appear to get it right, the law of unintended consequences will usually bring grief — to others. Easily made mistakes can be catastrophic. “Foreign policy experts are much more certain of their predictions than they have any right to be,” Bryan Caplan writes.

Empires are bloody expensive. Even a “liberal” empire would require deficit spending — who would be willing to pay so much in taxes? — and a central bank to facilitate government borrowing. And with those things come all the evils we are well familiar with, including artificial booms and resulting busts with long-term unemployment.

Economic crises, like war, are the health of the state. As repeated and deeper crises engender public anxiety, people will be receptive to politicians’ promises to provide immediate relief and long-term stability. So even if an empire does not have a full-blown welfare state at first, in time it will get there. Randolph Bourne and Robert Higgs have explained why. (The demand for ameliorative welfare and regulatory programs came in the wake of special privileges for the economic elite, as even Grover Cleveland understood in 1888.) One lesson of American history is that corporatist empire is the incubator of the welfare state.

McCarthy portrays the British empire as essentially benign — more or less a free-trade zone — and even attempts to enlist Ludwig von Mises in his cause. (Murphy corrects the record.) But Mises was under no illusions about the nature of colonialism, which, let’s recall, was directed at controlling resources, grabbing land, conscripting cheap labor, and creating markets for manufactured products. As Mises wrote in Liberalism (1927):

No chapter of history is steeped further in blood than the history of colonialism. Blood was shed uselessly and senselessly. Flourishing lands were laid waste; whole peoples destroyed and exterminated. All this can in no way be extenuated or justified.… It stands in the sharpest contrast to all the principles of liberalism and democracy, and there can be no doubt that we must strive for its abolition.

Who could be confident that liberalism would remain secure at home with such illiberalism practiced abroad? (Herbert Spencer knew it would not.) When U.S. forces were slaughtering Filipinos resisting colonialism at the turn of the 20th century, Progressive intervention at home was accelerating in America. This was no accident. Indeed, Progressives loved the unity of national purpose that war and imperialism created and some of them only wished such unity could be achieved without the blood, that is, through “the moral equivalent of war.”

Finally, as we well know, domestic-security concerns faced by an empire provide the pretext for suppressing civil liberties: warrantless searches and surveillance, etc. Empires make enemies — does this really have to be said today? — and enemies want vengeance. Public fear and political opportunism assure that civil liberties will be imperiled.

Reality offers no security guarantees. A radically free society that had no means to threaten other societies might be conquered by a malevolent power, despite its ideological commitment to freedom, its wealth, its technological advantages. On the other hand, as we’ve seen, even a well-intended empire holds the seeds of domestic tyranny.

Translations for this article:

• Italian, La Libertà Ha Bisogno di Imperi?.

The vast Sonoran Desert of the American Southwest lies in the political territories of California and Arizona and reaches south into Mexico. Its arid landscape is home to human industry and a complex ecosystem full of unique flora and fauna, mesas, canyons, arched rocks and other processes of deep time. It is thus governed by two competing forces: Political governance and natural boundaries.

In the Sonora, just outside of Coachella, California new development plans call for building tens of thousands of new homes on the landscape, converting wilderness to neighborhoods and town squares.

Media reports coming out of the southwest the past few months, however, note the great drought and water crisis gripping the region. Residents wonder where the water for even more sprawl will come from. NASA satellite mapping the region reveals incredible reductions in groundwater across the landscape. The trend is resource depletion, and we are warned it will only get worse.

But, the water shortage is not the crisis gripping the Southwest.

There is water everywhere in desert. Water flows in braided streams and deep channels such as the great Colorado. Water carves out canyons and gorges against quartz rich sandstone, occupies porous rock and nurtures incredible desert plants such as the flowering cacti. As desert enthusiast Edward Abbey writes in his book Desert Solitaire: “Water, water, water … There is no shortage of water in the desert but exactly the right amount … There is no lack of water here unless you try to establish a city where no city should be.”

What is imperiling the desert is human domination of the landscape.

Planning, zoning and development ultimately seek economic growth. There are of course guidelines and restrictions, town hall meetings and financial statements, but at the end of the day centralized economic regimes will develop a landscape if there’s a profit to be made.

Landscapes have been divided, not based on the sciences of resource management, geology or ecology, but rather to serve political and economic ambitions. States draw fictional lines in the sand for the sole purpose of claiming landscapes as property to enclose, develop and regulate. The political boundary is a marker of centralized economic planning — an institution that sprouts cities, municipalities, lush green golf courses and dam construction in arid lands.

It is a pity that advocates of central planning, in the name of the environment no less continually deny that high-liberalism is a failed dogma. The market mechanism, however, coupled with common governance offers a fresh take on resource management. This adaptive approach allows us to analyze landscapes in terms of watersheds, ecosystems, capacity for food production, resources available for trade, cultural heritage and resource conservation.

Such an order would ensure that vast landscapes will rarely, if ever, be occupied by our bodies.

The market mechanism, free of sweeping land use policy, would naturally cap resource extraction at its maximum sustainable yield. There would be strong economic incentive for water conservation in arid lands, as opposed to the maximum utility we see today. This respect for natural boundaries would in turn limit the amount of sprawl into the landscape. In the commons, land is not a commodity, but a connection — a place of labor and heritage.

I have long admired the desert. In these lands geologic formations readily display the story of an ancient Earth, streams intricately carve new landscapes while deep canyons and alluvial fans speak to the power of time. The desert should not be subjected to the Anthropocene, but liberated from it.

You hear a knock at your door. It’s your friend Steve.

While it’s physically impossible, Steve seems to bound through the door before you even open it. “Excited” is an understatement: he’s psyched, and you couldn’t reach his level even if you tried.

Around two, you and Steve made plans to go out tonight. You spent the afternoon doing laundry, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, and doing some light reading. Steve spent the afternoon plotting the perfect night.

This is not Steve’s first foray into the “perfect night” — far from it. Steve’s last plan failed, and so did the twenty-two before that. But Steve is not a quitter. He adheres to the “twenty-fourth time’s a charm” philosophy.

Steve really outdid himself this time. The amount of research he performed makes you question his sanity. He even prepared maps and charts. You buy into his madness. You question your sanity. His design does appear flawless, however.

“Tonight is going to be awesome,” he says with unbridled enthusiasm and a furrowed brow. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

The plan accounts for everything. Not a single second will be wasted. Not one beautiful girl will go unnoticed. All the hottest bars will be visited. You’re going to be in basements and on rooftops — at the same time. Somehow, there’s even a horse involved.

The night starts off well enough.

Pretty soon, Steve starts acting like a millionaire. Shots for everyone! Everyone includes you, though, so you’re okay with it. At least for now. Besides, everyone likes Steve. He buys them things. He talks to them. Your proximity to him gets you in contact with some pretty cool people.

Steve speaks only in the tongue of grandiosity, making lavish promises and telling of fantastical escapades. Another round of shots!

All of a sudden, Steve’s face turns white. He didn’t see a ghost. He’s out of money. “I don’t know how it happened, man!” You roll your eyes. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to solve the case of Steve’s empty wallet. “You got it, right?”

Yes, you got it. And the drinks for that entire bachelorette party? Yeah, you got that, too. You’re a good friend.

To mitigate the financial impact of Steve’s prodigal activites, you start drinking Miller Lite (because something’s gotta give). You have to somehow offset the financial burden thrust upon you.

From there, the night gets progressively worse. Steve abandons his earlier design in favor of new, hastily planned ambitions. For instance, he decides that he doesn’t want to wait in line at West Bar, so you jaunt over to East Club.

East Club has a thirty-dollar cover, which you pay. And of course, you pay Steve’s cover, too. As soon as you get inside, someone spills an entire long island iced tea all over your trousers. Nobody could have anticipated that. What do you do? Take a taxi back to the apartment and change? Hang out under the hand drier in the bathroom for an hour?

Steve had convinced you that a perfect night was in store. Now, however, you realize something. Steve’s design was overly ambitious; his objectives were unattainable. What convinced you was the confident oratory of a passionate man. Besides, you didn’t have a plan of your own.

Steve made a valiant effort, but he didn’t — and couldn’t — account for everything that happens in a night. He didn’t account for long lines. He couldn’t account for the actions of others. Even an ostensibly airtight plan was bound to fail. The perfect night — or day, or weekend, or whatever — is simply not something that can be designed.

There’s a classic episode of How I Met Your Mother that captures this lesson. One New Year’s Eve, Ted decides that he’s going to plan an unforgettable evening. Most of the gang’s New Year’s Eves have been dry and underwhelming. But not this one. No, Ted rented a limo. He assembled a list of the top five parties in New York City. They’ll have to keep a tight schedule, but they can pull it off.

Quickly, however, the night devolves into chaos. Unanticipated events happen left and right. They lose people and find people—including a criminal bearing a strong resemblance to Moby. Ted loses his date. In the end, nobody makes it to all five parties. To the extent that anyone has an enjoyable evening, it’s without friends. The saving grace? A spur-of-the-moment champagne toast inside the limo while stuck in traffic.

Steve is Ted. And Barney. And you. And me.

Steve is also the head of the Department of the Interior. And a member of the County Zoning Board. And the Mayor.

Steve is a man — a good man, but a fallible man. Because of his very nature, Steve is incapable of planning the perfect night. No matter how many smart people he surrounds himself with, no matter how many Yelp reviews he consults, and no matter how many hours he spends at the drawing board, Steve can never plan the perfect night.

Yet, the perfect evening can happen. In fact, perfect evenings happen all the time. They happen in the absence of meticulously detailed design. They happen when you surround yourself by people you like. They happen when you let the night take you where it may. They happen spontaneously.

“To assume all the knowledge to be given to a single mind… is to assume the problem away and to disregard everything that is important and significant in the real world.” –F.A. Hayek

The political economy of Benjamin Tucker represents an alloy of its major influences, synthesizing the work of radical thinkers such as Josiah Warren, William B. Greene, Ezra Heywood, and Lysander Spooner to create a mature, comprehensive individualist anarchism. From Heywood came Tucker’s trademark analysis of the wrongs of rent, interest, and profit, “follow[ing] closely the motto that Ezra Heywood had printed in large letters over his desk: ‘Interest is Theft, Rent Robbery, and Profit Only Another Name for Plunder.’”[1] Josiah Warren endowed Tucker with an iron conviction about the sovereignty of the individual, a hostility toward every attempt to “reduce him to a mere piece of a machine” and to accomplish reform through coercive, manmade “combinations.” For a system of free market monetary and banking reform, Tucker learned from William B. Greene, whose work had articulated a mutual banking scheme based on free, open issuance of currency. It was Greene who, in 1873, introduced a young Benjamin Tucker to the work of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, Greene’s personal acquaintance and the first to call himself an anarchist.[2] Greene further encouraged Tucker to undertake the first translation of Proudhon’s What is Property? into the English language, a work published by Ezra Heywood’s Co-operative Publishing Company. In Tucker, these influences coalesced and congealed into a single movement for which he and his journal Liberty became the focus.

It bears remarking that Tucker carried on his career in radical polemics all while working as an editor for mainstream publications. In a 1943 article in The New England Quarterly, Charles A. Madison noted “the mutual respect between Tucker and his employers” at Boston’s Daily Globe despite Tucker’s determined advocacy of anarchism during a time which witnessed opposition to the idea at a “hysterical intensity.” It is undeniably difficult to imagine a newspaper of any considerable size or reputation housing an open anarchist in its editorial staff today. Notwithstanding the present day’s pretensions to openness and liberality, it seems almost certain that today’s literary and intellectual elite screens its pet orthodoxies and status quo politics from questioning and criticism far more devoutly than did the literati of the latter half of the nineteenth century. Tucker enjoyed the respect of his Globe colleagues for no less than eleven years, even as he plunged ever more deeply into the world of radical politics, from aiding Ezra Heywood in the publication of The Word to issuing his own Radical Review. Later, after he had commenced publication of Liberty, Tucker worked as an editor for Engineering Magazine in New York City, “refus[ing] to write articles that might compromise his anarchist principles.”[3]

In the very first issue of Liberty in 1881, Tucker enunciated the periodical’s raison d’être and its prescription in politics and economics, writing, “Monopoly and privileged must be destroyed, opportunity afforded, and competition encouraged.” Still, like Proudhon, from whom Tucker took so many ideas on currency and banking reform, Tucker held that the usurious economic arrangements he opposed ought to, in Proudhon’s words, “remain free and voluntary for all.” The gates of competition thrown open to all and the “disturbing forces”[4] of privileged abolished, these embodiments of exploitation would, he argued, become practically impossible. “[I]f the power to take usury were extended to all men,” as Tucker argued it should be, “usury would devour itself, in its very nature.” The role of the state, then, was to insulate the privileged few holders of capital, who live in “luxury on the toil of their artificially-created slaves,” from the salutary effects of competition.

Tucker’s consistency and his deft ability to expose the absurdities of both political and economic power have much to teach today’s liberty movement. Were he alive today, Tucker would see privilege, corporate welfare, and insults to liberty everywhere he looked. No more natural or inevitable are today’s dominant economic relationships than were the conditions of old-time slavery, though apologists for both would insist that the mere fact of their existence proved their justness. Tucker was a visionary political economist in that he imagined things could be different, debunking the “just so” stories of liberal economists and daring to push their liberal ideas—which had so grown in popularity—to their logical limits. “[G]enuine Anarchism,” he famously said, “is consistent Manchesterism.” For Tucker politics and economics were inseparable, the questions of one necessarily implicating the other; he regarded capitalism as a system of exploitation created by the state, that is, by aggression or force against the sovereign individual. Tucker’s labor politics, though, are distinctive—and perhaps distinguishable from the ideas of today’s radical labor movement—insofar as he rebuked capitalists without advocating collective ownership or organization of capital, identified exploitation without condemning competition, and championed workingmen without necessarily denouncing trusts (or “industrial combinations”) and while remaining lukewarm on labor unions.

Tucker argued that efforts to obstruct or outlaw any kind of voluntary combination or association were simply authoritarian attempts at control, intolerable to anarchism regardless of any underlying good intentions. He saw nothing essentially or necessarily wrong with the sale of one’s labor for a wage—indeed going so far as to argue that proper Anarchistic Socialism did not attempt “to abolish wages, but to make every man dependent upon wages and to secure to every man his whole wages.” Tucker’s socialism was straightforwardly based upon the notion that labor should be paid with its full product; the fact that labor was not paid was indeed the whole problem. State socialism’s government ownership of the means of production was no way to accomplish this end, but was simply a new form of enslavement much the same as the old. Ultimately the state would always be an institution by and for a plutocratic ruling class.

Tucker’s economics furthermore eschewed facile and superficial distinctions, such as, for example, the arbitrary and unsystematic differentiation between capital and product[5] and, as noted above, between economics and politics. Any thoroughgoing consideration of “the industrial problem” could not rely simply on an analysis of the laws of exchange alone, as if those laws operated in a vacuum, detached from the realities of law and policy. As one of Tucker’s key influences, Joshua King Ingalls wrote, “Political economy has thus far been little more than a series of ingenious attempts to reconcile class prerogative and arbitrary capitalistic control with the principles of exchange.” The central error of bourgeois political economy in Tucker’s day is identical to contemporary libertarianism’s chief mistake—its critical oversight of the countless and constant contraventions of just those free market principles being espoused. Then and now, liberal or free market political economists will maintain that political and economic questions must be treated together, that economic rights are political rights, only to turn around and discuss existing economic conditions and relationships as if they are purely the consequence of legitimate market exchanges and property forms.

The analytical precision of Benjamin Tucker was not so easily confused as to allow him to be duped by defenders of capitalism, to convince him that free market relationships would be much the same as capitalistic relationships. Tucker could not believe that the mortifying subjection of the penniless many to the prosperous and propertied few developed from undiluted laissez faire. As “An Anarchist FAQ” observes, “While an Individualist Anarchy would be a market system, it would not be a capitalist one.” Tucker never retreated from his defenses of competition or saw a need to water them down. Nor did he ever admit that exploitation was possible without aggression or invasion, or accept that equitable commerce and justice for the worker could only be accomplished through legislative reforms. His total lack of faith in any legal or governmental nostrum at times put a gulf between the ideas of his Liberty and the rest of the labor movement, though he always acknowledged his individualist anarchism and socialism as being “armies that overlap.” Indeed, Tucker offered what this author still regards as the best definition of socialism, or perhaps the definition of socialism at its best, as “the belief that the next important step in progress is a change in man’s environment of an economic character that shall include the abolition of every privilege whereby the holder of wealth acquires an anti-social power to compel tribute.” Tucker therefore assumed no necessary or principled stance against popular labor movement whipping boys such as, for instance, wage labor or even large trusts. He argued that insofar as the anarchist principle of equal liberty is undeviatingly observed, “it will make no difference whether men work for themselves, or are employed, or employ others.” Drawing an income without working—i.e., rent, interest, and profit—was the economic phenomenon to be opposed by anarchists, and this, Tucker argued, depended upon aggression always.

It is rather ironic that the free market schools which trumpet methodological individualism most boldly and are most skeptical of empirics deride even the faintest possibility that complete freedom of exchange might not lead to an environment that is recognizably capitalist. Given their concession that the existing economy is indeed far removed from a true free market, one wonders what makes them so sure that individualist anarchists such as Tucker were economically nescient quacks. We needn’t rely on any labor theory of value to safely conclude that existing wealth inequalities and concentrations depend pivotally on just the kinds of coercive legal privilege to which the flag-bearers of laissez faire profess opposition. The individualist anarchists, moreover, understood the theoretical importance of marginal utility quite well, as has been noted elsewhere. Unlike the caricature of their view, their labor theory of value, such as they articulated it, was perfectly reconcilable with the subjective theory of value and attempted to explain something different from and more than the simple proposition that everything is worth only what someone is willing to pay for it—which fact is, of course, impossible to rebut. The important and substantive critique contained in Benjamin Tucker’s political economy is too often summarily dismissed as relying on a discredited economic fallacy, without due cogitation on its many arguments and implications. The burden of principled consistency fell to Benjamin Tucker and Liberty as it falls to left wing individualists and C4SS today. Tucker suggest that “Anarchy may be defined as the possession of liberty by libertarians,—that is by those who know what liberty means.” That question, the meaning of liberty, is what we as anarchists are attempting to puzzle out. For so many, the life and work of Benjamin Tucker has been the lodestar in that odyssey, ever an inspiration and point of reference.

Notes:

[1] Martin Blatt, “Ezra Heywood & Benjamin Tucker.”

[2] In an 1887 issue of Liberty, Tucker wrote, “[T]hanks to Colonel Greene, I read Proudhon’s discussion with [Frédéric] Bastiat on the question of interest, and then the famous ‘What is Property?’ and great indeed was my astonishment at finding in them, but presented in very different terms, the identical ideas which I had already learned from Josiah Warren, and which, evolved by these two men independently, will be as fundamental in whatever social changes henceforth come over the world as has been the law of gravitation in all the revolutions of physical science which have followed its discovery,—I mean, of course, the ideas of Liberty and Equity.”

[3] Wendy McElroy, “Benjamin Tucker, Liberty, and Individualist Anarchism.” Footnote 6.

[4] John Beverley Robinson, Economics of Liberty.

[5] “Proudhon scoffed at the distinction between capital and product. He maintained that capital and product are not different kinds of wealth, but simply alternate conditions or functions of the same wealth; that all wealth undergoes an incessant transformation from capital into product and from product back into capital, the process repeating itself interminably; that capital and product are purely social terms; that what is product to one man immediately becomes capital to another, and vice versa; that if there were but one person in the world, all wealth would be to him at once capital and product . . . .” – Benjamin R. Tucker

People who vote for politicians such as Brazilian presidential candidate Aecio Neves, as well as many of his party’s supporters (the Social Democracy Brazilian Party, PSDB), are often dumbfounded when they find out how unappealing ideas of “efficiency” in the public sector, “management shock,” and “professionalization” in government are to a large sector of the population. It’s a moderately widespread idea, also spearheaded in the Pernambuco state government (more as a campaign bullet point than real actions) by Eduardo Campos, who died on August 12. The belief is that there is — or at least should be — a vital separation between the public administration and politics; between ideology and efficiency. However, the idea of professionalizing politics, putting “technicians” in government positions, and “managing” public affairs like ordinary organizations in society is, in itself, deeply ideological.

And it isn’t one of the youngest ideologies: Thorstein Veblen talked about his technocracy of engineers in the 1920s. Veblen, in his well-known The Engineers and the Price System described engineers (“technicians”) as the class capable of promoting the principles of “scientific management” for production — as opposed to a system of market production with effective price signaling. Veblen didn’t have any problems with the corporate organization and intended to universalize its model as the foundation of society, eliminating technical limitations to what he termed “industrial values,” which were connected to productive efficiency (and had nothing to do with, and indeed were opposed to, market incentives).

Veblen championed his ideas on industry and technique as the starting point of the mass production society he envisioned. That society and its values would give rise, through industrial workers, to a new democracy with a new management style that promoted efficiency, technical knowledge and administration. That is, a machine perfectly adjusted to the control and regulation of society.

This dystopian ideal was able to find adherents and modify itself slightly during the 20th century, especially in the works of managerial progressives such as Joseph Schumpeter and John Kenneth Galbraith. Nowadays, we hear it from politicians who may think they speak with the voice of innovation when they say that specialists should fill government positions. It’s also a convenient ideology for a number of bureaucrats because it doesn’t ask whether such government positions should exist at all, but only who should fill them. It’s not about being governed or not, it’s about who is going to do the governing. Who would we want to sit on the Iron Throne if not a “specialist?” Someone who wouldn’t be driven by politico-ideological passions, but by the “industrial values” Veblen cherished. Someone to oil up the gears of this great machinery that is society.

That is all hogwash, of course, because when we talk about politics, we talk about ideology — about prioritizing, about choosing one collective goal as preferable to another. However, there are no macro social ends, at least not apart from a sum of individual goals or as a mere metaphor. Which is also the reason why it isn’t possible to put public management under the control of experts, because the very definition of what constitutes “public management” is an ideological question subject to political negotiation and resistance.

It’s impossible to remove ideology from government because government is an ideology: The ideology of power, control and suppression of dissidence. The ideology of conformity, of the macro-social, of the idea of society as an abstraction, never reducible to its individual components.

Governing, far from an activity without ideology and plans, is the stitching of majority plans within hierarchy. It’s no wonder that anarchist movements have historically tended to horizontalism and consensus-building as strategies to avoid the formation of majorities and bureaucratic power structures. These ideas of horizontalism are intended to mitigate the effects of particular ideologies when applied to the collective. In contrast, technocracy looks like a form of enlightened despotism with its attempt to rationalize processes. Of course, it’s a positive thing that socially desirable processes should be efficient and demand less resources — but we must first know which ones are the socially desirable processes. They’re not a given.

It’s somewhat ironic that lifelong politicians are the biggest (and maybe the most cynical) proponents of the technocratic creed. Aecio Neves himself, despite his claims of technical prowess in administration, is a specialist in one thing only: Getting positions in the government. He’s been the director of a large state bank, secretary of the presidency, deputy, governor, senator.

It may be the case that Aecio Neves nowadays is a puppet of the narrative he’s built for himself, replicating it as a hostage of his own rhetoric. Because Aecio has never been a technician; the technicians are the arms that execute his political plans.

Translations for this article:

• Italian, Elezioni e Ideologia Tecnocratica.

The Center for a Stateless Society (C4SS) has named David S. D’Amato its first Benjamin R. Tucker Distinguished Research Scholar in Anarchist Economic Theory.

David S. D’Amato is an attorney and holds a J.D. from New England School of Law and an LL.M. in Global Law and Technology from Suffolk University Law School.

D’Amato is a senior fellow and has been writing with C4SS for over four years. He has had commentaries published in many countries and in several languages. His features have dealt with important topics in anarchist history and theory. And his reviews have covered such varied subjects as Habeas Corpus and egoism. Through all of his work D’Amato continually demonstrates a scholar’s respect for his subject matter as well as a desire to push further into its history and application.

This position is named in honor of the brilliant, prolific and passionate individualist anarchist Benjamin R Tucker. Tucker’s life, work and his Liberty demonstrates a powerful commitment to describing a voluntary world populated by sovereign individuals and detailing why we should channel all available energy towards completely ending exploitation, monopoly and authority; “that all the affairs of men should be managed by individuals or voluntary associations, and that the State should be abolished.”

We look forward to seeing how D’Amato’s research and writing develops our understanding of Anarchist Economic Theory.

Individualist, translator, publisher, editor, “unterrified Jeffersonian Democrat,” “consistent Manchester man,” socialist, anarchist: Benjamin R. Tucker.

The Benjamin R. Tucker Distinguished Research Scholar in Anarchist Economic Theory is the third academic position created by the Trustees of the Center for a Stateless Society to advance the understanding and application of individualist anarchism – freed market anti-capitalism, laissez-faire socialism.

It is named in honor of the brilliant, prolific and passionate individualist anarchist Benjamin R Tucker. Tucker’s life, work and his Liberty demonstrates a powerful commitment to describing a voluntary world populated by sovereign individuals and detailing why we should channel all available energy towards completely ending exploitation, monopoly and authority; “that all the affairs of men should be managed by individuals or voluntary associations, and that the State should be abolished.”

Liberty insists on the sovereignty of the individual and the just reward of labor; on the abolition of the State and the abolition of usury; on no more government of man by man, and no more exploitation of man by man; on Anarchy and Equity. —Liberty’s war-cry is “Down with authority” and its chief battle with the State — the State that corrupts children; the state that trammels law; the State that stifles thought; the State that monopolizes land; the State that give idle capital the power to increase, and through interest, rent, profit and taxes robs industrious labor of its products.

This is the charge of the Benjamin R. Tucker Distinguished Research Scholar in Anarchist Economic Theory, to communicate, in detail, what stands blocking our way towards that bright future in liberty; to describe where these barriers came from — who put up them up and who maintains them –, how we can tear them down and pulverize their foundations.

To be awarded the Benjamin R. Tucker Distinguished Research Scholar in Anarchist Economic Theory position signals a scholar’s energy and capacity to contribute, in outstanding ways, to that interdisciplinary field of social theory — drawing on resources in economics, philosophy, sociology, history, among other fields – known as Anarchist Economic Theory.

O anarquismo e a hierarquia têm um relacionamento complexo. Alguns anarquistas afirmam se opor a todo tipo de hierarquia (às vezes até definindo o anarquismo como tal) e outros afirmam que são apenas contrários ao estado e que não se importam com a hierarquia em si. Eu acredito que o anarquismo individualista caia entre os dois extremos.

O anarquismo individualismo, resumidamente, é a posição de que o indivíduo é a base da “sociedade”. Assim, em qualquer sistema político — ou, mais precisamente, qualquer não-sistema apolítico — que exista deve dar primazia ao indivíduo e respeitar sua soberania como ser livre. O não-sistema que melhor alcança esse objetivo é o anarquismo.

A hierarquia é “um sistema ou organização no qual pessoas ou grupos são ordenados acima uns dos outros de acordo com status ou autoridade”. Em alguns casos, esse tipo de sistema é inerentemente errado (ou mau); em outros, é permissível ou até mesmo bom; já em alguns, pode não ser inerentemente ruim, mas ainda é condenável.

A hierarquia é obviamente problemática e até imoral quando mantida através da iniciação da força. Como individualistas, defendemos a soberania do indivíduo e consideramos a autonomia de uma pessoa como fato moral extremamente relevante. A capacidade de exercer faculdades e capacidades próprias ao máximo de acordo com a própria volição é um direito individual de cada indivíduo (e já que toda pessoa tem esse direito, ele implica uma limitação para quando se impede as ações dos outros).

O ato de subordinar os objetivos dos outros pela força, substituindo-os pelos seus, é uma afronta à individualidade das duas pessoas e uma violação de seus direitos. O ato da agressão é imoral em si, mas um sistema hierárquico mantido pela agressão coloca certos indivíduos em sujeição a outros. Quando um é meramente um servo, obediente aos níveis mais altos da hierarquia, não há individualidade — algo a que obviamente nos opomos.

Isso leva o individualista a rejeitar o uso da violência e, portanto, o estado. O estado, ao contrário do que afirmam os teóricos do contrato social, depende da violência para manter seu financiamento e seu monopólio sobre o uso legítimo da força dentro de uma área geográfica. Os estados são sistemas de predadores agressivos e hierárquicos. São a antítese do individualismo.

Para muitos anarquistas, a propriedade privada é inerentemente hierárquica e, portanto, inadmissível. Estão apenas parcialmente corretos. Em certo sentido, a propriedade privada cria uma hierarquia entre o dono de uma propriedade e as demais pessoas. Contudo, a propriedade privada tem outros benefícios dignos de consideração. Não há motivos para restringirmos nossa análise à questão única da presença ou não da hierarquia. Há outros fatores moralmente relevantes.

A propriedade privada é útil por vários motivos, muitos deles com importantes consequências. Um sistema de propriedade privada cria uma sociedade próspera e rica que é capaz de alocar eficientemente recursos escassos. Adicionalmente, e de grande significância para o individualista, a propriedade privada é vital para a autonomia pessoa. Como escreve Roderick Long:

“A necessidade humana de autonomia: a capacidade de controlar a própria vida sem a interferência dos outros. Sem a propriedade privada, eu não teria um local no qual me localizar para chamar de meu; eu não teria uma esfera de proteção na qual eu pudesse tomar decisões sem as limitações da vontade dos outros. Se a autonomia (nesse sentido) é valiosa, então precisamos da propriedade privada para sua realização e proteção.”

Sem a propriedade privada, o escopo do indivíduo é restringido em favor da comunidade ou da sociedade. Enquanto individualistas, devemos nos preocupar com a maximização da autonomia de cada pessoa e, para isso, a propriedade privada é benéfica.

Além disso, a substituição da propriedade privada pela propriedade coletiva não elimina a existência da hierarquia, mas simplesmente desloca o nível mais alto da hierarquia do proprietário para a maioria coletiva. Sob a propriedade coletiva, aqueles que compõem a maioria podem decidir para que a propriedade deve ser usada e estão, portanto, em posição de autoridade em relação à minoria.

É digna de nota a questão dos pais e da família. O relacionamento entre pais e filhos é historicamente hierárquico. Contudo, sem entrar na esfera complicada dos direitos das crianças, a autoridade empregada pelos pais ao criar seus filhos não depende da força da mesma maneira que a força usada contra um adulto (em que ponto estabelecer esse limite é outra questão complexa). Embora existam exemplos do uso da força que sejam injustos, como o abuso físico, há outros que são justos, como forçar uma criança a comer seu jantar. Uma vez que a hierarquia entre pais e filhos aparentemente é benéfica para os envolvidos, os anarquistas individualistas não veem problemas com ela (para uma elaboração sobre a posição dos anarquistas individualistas sobre os direitos das crianças, veja a seção deste ensaio intitulada “The Rights of Children” — em inglês).

E quanto aos sistemas de hierarquia não-violenta? Muitos desses dependem da situação e do contexto específico, mas podemos dizer que, geralmente, a hierarquia, mesmo que “consensual”, é sempre potencialmente problemática para o individualista. Uma vez que consideramos a autonomia e o exercício das faculdades individuais como sumamente importantes, situações em que as pessoas se submetem voluntariamente à autoridade dos outros, criando uma hierarquia, podem ser condenáveis.

Considere o exemplo de uma pequena cidade em que todos, por um ou outro motivo, submetam voluntariamente suas propriedades à gerência coletiva. Pelos motivos explicados acima a respeito dos efeitos da propriedade privada sobre a autonomia, podemos dizer que uma cidade em que exista propriedade privada é preferível a uma em que haja propriedade coletiva. Então, como individualistas que valorizam a prosperidade e a autonomia, temos bons motivos para nos opor a uma cidade voluntariamente comunista — mesmo que seja apenas uma manifestação da vontade das pessoas, que estão tomando uma má decisão e deveriam adotar um sistema de propriedade privada.

Pelos motivos mencionados acima, a iniciação do uso da força é inadmissível para o individualista. Afinal, utilizar a força deveria ser o mesmo que sujeitar as pessoas à nossa vontade, o que é ativamente imoral e pior do que suas decisões voluntárias. Então, seria errado utilizar a força para impedir os habitantes da cidade de estabelecerem um sistema comunista voluntário.

No entanto, o uso de coisas como persuasão, campanhas educativas e boicotes é permissível e talvez estimulado (se são táticas efetivas e interessantes, é uma questão à parte). Reconhecemos que o comunismo voluntário é ruim para as pessoas envolvidas (e potencialmente ruim para outras, por motivos econômicos ou porque essas ideias podem começar a ganhar adesão e apoio) e que se sujeitar à vontade da maioria é um erro, então não faria sentido permanecer ambivalente sobre a questão.

Há também o conceito das propriedades comunais horizontalmente organizadas e autogeridas. São modelos diferentes da propriedade coletiva. Conjuntos de recursos comuns em que os direitos de posse do indivíduo são estritamente definidos têm uma probabilidade muito maior de proteger e estimular a autonomia pessoal e o individualismo do que o coletivismo total, apesar de serem possivelmente problemáticos, dependendo de como são estabelecidos.

A hierarquia no ambiente de trabalho é possivelmente condenável, mas não inerentemente. Ambientes de trabalho grandes e hierárquicos que tendem a tratar os trabalhadores como engrenagens em um motor ou ferramentas dos empregadores são claramente desalinhados com a filosofia individualista. Um ambiente de trabalho em que os trabalhadores dos degraus mais baixos são pressionados e tratados com pouco respeito devem ser condenados (de forma não agressiva) por aqueles que se preocupam com a autonomia e com o respeito pelas pessoas.

Isso não implica que toda hierarquia trabalhista seja má. Às vezes, ela pode ser preferível por motivos econômicos. Às vezes a hierarquia é mínima e os funcionários têm voz e são tratados com respeito. Ocasionalmente, a firma pode ser hierárquica, mas relativamente plana. Embora muitas das corporações gigantes de hoje em dia sejam contrárias às preocupações individualistas, nem todas as hierarquias do trabalho são inerentemente negativas. Há apenas o potencial para que sejam.

É um erro terminar a análise sobre o fato de que algo é ou não hierárquico. Da mesma forma, perguntar se algo é coercitivo e mais nada é problemático. O individualismo enxerga vários fatores como moralmente relevantes. A agressão e a liberdade negativa são importantes, sim, da mesma forma que a autonomia pessoal, a prosperidade e as boas consequências. Tanto a economia política quanto a filosofia moral requerem um pluralismo valorativo combinado com uma análise meticulosa.

A lição a ser aprendida sobre as hierarquias não-violentas é de que, como a maior parte das coisas na vida, ela não é inerentemente má, mas tem o potencial para sê-lo. Sistemas voluntários de hierarquia promovem uma cultura de obediência e coletivismo que podem levar a sistemas que dependem da violência. Desestimulam a individualidade, o livre pensamento e a autonomia. Por esses motivos, a hierarquia não-violenta não é inerentemente má para o anarquista individualista, mas sempre é potencialmente problemática e frequentemente condenável.

A posição anarquista individualista sobre a hierarquia está entre a ideia de que é sempre errada e de que nunca é. Às vezes é errada, mas em outras, não. Como afirmei anteriormente, o relacionamento entre o anarquismo e a hierarquia é complexo. Parte de ser um individualista é pensar rigorosa e exaustivamente nas questões por conta própria. Não há sempre princípios rígidos para pensar por nós, não importa o quão confortável seja o sofá onde sentamos para apontar o dedo para o mundo.

Traduzido por Erick Vasconcelos.

Labor day has come and gone. In spite of the fact that it was made a Federal holiday by a president who used government power to crush the Pullman strike, it’s still worth using it as an occasion for reflecting on the struggle for workplace liberty. Corey Robin had a good post on the subject. This piece will hopefully be a good addition to the ones he already lists.

Right-libertarians or non-left libertarians aren’t known for an overwhelmingly positive view of labor unionism. Walter Block was the target of a past blog post by me that illustrates this. This post challenged the simplistic notion that labor unions are just creatures of government. This notion tends to be at the core of anti-unionism amongst some libertarians.

Anti-unionism amongst libertarians serves no good purpose. Libertarian individualism is certainly compatible with a form of unionism that involves self-interested workers forming a voluntary association to deal with the power of the boss. People are not only oppressed by government. The power of the boss can be immensely repressive too.

Liberty is a multi-faceted thing. It certainly doesn’t exclude freedom in the workplace. Libertarians who wish to provide a comprehensive attack on authority and oppression should take notice of this truth. A boss can serve the role of a mini-state with all the attendant consequences for human freedom.

Libertarians who desire to reach the majority of people dependent upon employers for a livelihood need to offer an analysis like the above that will connect to their experiences as subordinate employees. Not only is it politically prudent, it’s the approach most compatible with human liberty.

Human liberty is preferably defended in this more totalistic fashion. It’s far better to advocate liberty in all areas of life rather than settle for a limited amount. The workplace is a key battleground for liberty. One that requires libertarians to step up to the plate and provide answers.

Nobody who loves liberty wants to be told when they can and can’t go to the bathroom. Something that an employer has the power to control. And a power worth contesting in the name of freedom. Not to mention all the other attendant petty tyrannies listed in Corey Robin’s linked piece above.

Some libertarians worry that unionism or labor struggle generally is collectivist and must depend on government coercion to succeed. This confuses collectivism with collective action. The second issue of government coercion being necessary is addressed in my post on Walter Block linked to above. Please consider commenting on that post and this one!

The book I will discuss below develops and defends the idea of law without a state. The book’s blurb tells us the following:

This book elaborates and defends the idea of law without the state. Animated by a vision of peaceful, voluntary cooperation as a social ideal and building on a careful account of non-aggression, it features a clear explanation of why the state is illegitimate, dangerous, and unnecessary.

It proposes an understanding of how law enforcement in a stateless society could be legitimate and what the optimal substance of law without the state might be, suggests ways in which a stateless legal order could foster the growth of a culture of freedom, and situates the project it elaborates in relation to leftist, anti-capitalist, and socialist traditions.

So ends the blurb of the book by American legal scholar and professor at Tom and Vi Zapara School of Business at La Sierra University (California), Gary Chartier, titled Anarchy and Legal Order: Law and Politics for a Stateless Society. The aforementioned constitutes exactly what Chartier does in his 400 page plus study. Below is a discussion of this work.

Ideological background

According to his literary references the author can be placed ideologically in the realm of what is referred to in North-America as libertarianism. Chartier does not keep this a secret. The literature he uses comes from the ideological corner of Murray Rothbard. The range in which Chartier works is however much larger. It stretches from what can be called “free-market capitalism” to anti-capitalism and socialism (‘free’ as in free-market without a state). Does one not exclude the other?

Chartier claims it does not. He employs his own logic. One of the conditions he maintains is one of consistent statelessness. Therein lies a significant difference with the icons of the neo-liberal economy such as Friedman and Hayek. For their ideas, in order to succeed, must rely on government partnership and preferably under dictatorial leadership – as the Chicago-boys in Pinochet’s Chile have shown. In Chile the neo-liberal economy of Friedman thrived with its iconic invisible hand (market) backed by the iron fist (dictatorship). This is a system Chartier rejects out of hand, with reference to the book by American writer Kevin A. Carson, The Iron Fist Behind The Invisible Hand, corporate capitalism as state-guaranteed privilege, (2002).

For Chartier the state represents all that is undesirable. In great detail he shows that the state is illegitimate, aggressive, unnecessary and dangerous. The state disrupts and prevents: anarchy. Chartier defines anarchy as a social order based on peaceful, voluntary cooperation of people without a state. The distorting effect of the state makes a number of recurrences in Chartier’s argument. Here many (continental) anarchists are reminded of William Godwin (1756-1836), one of anarchism’s fore-bearers. Two centuries ago he taught that the imposition of even a just action through authority removes all its possible laudable effects (see his Enquiry Concerning Political Justice and its influence on general virtue and happiness; 1793). [3]

Chartier observes that the ideas of American individualist-anarchist Benjamin Tucker and British author Thomas Hodgskin are hidden within his book. When referencing both these names Chartier mentions that he has also learned from those who engaged with the work of these forebears (among whom we encounter the famous Voltairine de Cleyre, Lysander Spooner and Herbert Spencer).

A basic code of conduct

The design and development of Gary Chartier’s arguments reflects his legal education. The construction of his argument takes on a hypothetical form of reasoning, which — how else could it — leads to many hypothetical inferences. This is not surprising, as the only references to a stateless society are found in historical-anthropological studies. For those I refer to the 179th issue of AS themed Anarchism and Law.

Chartier bases his argument on a set of three principles, namely, (1) the principle of recognition, (2) the principle of justice, and (3) the principle of respect. The first principle calls for everything, that can serve as real aspects of well-being, to be acknowledged as matters worth striving for. The second principle protects against making arbitrary distinction in action. The third principle is aimed at the prevention of various forms of harmful action. The author goes on to explain intricately the range of applications these principles have for his anarchist jurisprudence.

In fact all three — recognition, justice, respect — come together in the construction of a nonaggression maxim. This provides a basic code of conduct and a basic system of property rules. These property rules only apply to physical things, not to unobservable phenomena. With the latter he refers to a phenomenon such as slavery, that can’t be justified with or without property. It also does not fit within a social order based on peaceful, voluntary cooperation.

The system of law he introduces requires the consent of those who cooperate. This creates different forms of cooperation, each with their own center. Consequently multiple legal systems become a possibility, in his view a polycentric legal order arises and we can speak of polycentic law (there is therefore a multitude of orders and of law). This refers to an anarchist theory of law, which mainly deals with the various ways of maintaining interpersonal relationships. It encompasses social realms that do not require a state. For a general idea about law without a state Chartier refers explicitly to — among others — the work of Henc van Maarseveen and I (Law and Anarchism, 1982).

A product of aggression and dominance

Chartier takes the position that the state is an instrument for conquest and is a product of aggression and dominance. Here he recognizes the origin of the ruling class in combination with the constant pursuit of power. Here we encounter a reference to Franz Oppenheimer, who, in the beginning of the 20th century, in his study The State (1914), referred to it as a conquest-state.

Chartier does not leave it at that. He shows that states act like geographical monopolists and actively engage in land grabbing. To add to his point about the relationship between the state and the ruling class he uses an appropriate example, namely the Enclosures (the enclosure of communal pastures). A few centuries ago this was a process carried out by the landed aristocracy in modern day England, backed by state-guaranteed privilege (such as the Acts of Enclosure).

The same pattern, Chartier remarks, can be identified in colonial North-America: the use of violence against native Americans and the theft of their land. If one looks at Latin-America’s latifundias (a form of enormous private land ownership) there is no difference. In short, wealth is an effect of what? Of feudal land theft, which continued during the enclosures, in the development of America, in the worldwide slave trade. And this continued and evolved into more modern forms.

Advantaged groups benefited from the existence of legally guaranteed injustice, injustice embodied by state legal systems in the form of structural state privilege. The state thus privileges the rich and torments the poor, according to Chartier. The question this raises for me is: how do we shift away from this unjust system? Will the rich give in? I don’t think so. So, do we need a social revolution? Chartier’s study does not treat this subject.

The acquisition of consent

Chartier develops his hypothesis into the idea that people can cooperate peacefully and voluntarily without the existence of a state. To him this means that there is good reason to find an alternative for the state. That alternative acts as a foundation for peaceful, voluntary cooperation. The adoption of such an alternative means that people accept a consent-based legal order (over the current imposition-based legal order).

It concerns an order in which not only legal rules protect peaceful, voluntary cooperation but also the acceptance of the order’s authority itself is based on peaceful, voluntary cooperation (the acquisition of consent). In such an order no one is subjugated to an obligation that does not follow directly from previous informed consent. The necessary acquisition of consent contributes to the creation of the aforementioned polycentric legal order and the development of polycentric law. As a result different types of legal regimes of territorial and non-territorial nature arise (laid down in fair treaties, based on agreement, consent, and contract). As a good legal scholar would Chartier works out his assumptions with a high degree of sophistication.

In my view this leaves room for a development towards a polycentric-federalist political organization. In contrast to Chartier’s more private-law elaboration, thinkers like Proudhon, Bakunin, and Kropotkin and further anarchists have sought solutions in political-law, through dealing with issues of decentralization and federalization. Whether this can result in convergence between private- and political-law could be investigated. I’ll end that discussion here, as it goes beyond the scope of this review.

Meanwhile the reader might question whether the alternative Chartier proposes will work out, will function. There is little to say with much certainty. There are reasons to suggest why there is a chance of success. In order to say something about anything I will look at the Dutch situation.

Instances of state-failure

There is no denying that a few things the government does turn out well. But aren’t these all things that could be done just as well without the existence of a state? For example by an agreement-based legal regime. In numerous other cases moments of failure arise within state institutions, which then cause billions in financial losses. The state is not a guarantee that things are done well. In fact it regularly goes south. If we only look at the most serious cases, namely those which lead to parliamentary inquiries, we find enough evidence for the latter.

In what areas did the state go wrong and in what areas did the taxpayer cover the costs well into the billions? From 1982 going forwards I compiled a selection of affairs which led to parliamentary inquiry: in shipbuilding, construction grants and construction fraud, the failing supervisory bodies and financial systems, and the affairs concerning infrastructure projects such as the Betuwelijn, High Speed Line, and Fyra. [4] Even an IT-job at the Ministry of Defense lead to complete disorder. It is obviously not in the ability of the state to even do its job in simple practical affairs. Of course this does not mean things can’t take unexpected turns in the private business world as well.

One thing is clear: the state regularly messes up. It is in that way redundant and can be dismantled. Yet people will be worried. How will we organize the protection of the weak (the children, the old, the disadvantaged) in our society? Do we not have to worry about the environment or crime? Must we not defend ourselves against outlaws?

Protection-services in a stateless society

Chartier does not deny the possibility that problems and conflicts may arise, that the environment may be polluted, that there may be those who’s behavior actively obstructs the agreements made by others on basis of consent. He pays particular attention to phenomena such as crime. In doing so he uses an inductive-probabilistic explanatory model. He makes the following point.

Today we live under state guided circumstances. That means circumstances governed by power: a ruling class is able to utilize the state apparatus in such a way that the populace must provide an enforceable output. Much of this output would not be supplied without the state’s existence. Because consent is missing the statist system must be considered illegitimate. The statist system structurally maintains a system of redistribution that favors a wealthy caste and leads to (social) injustice. This can be shown using a variety of expressions and examples.

One only has to look at the banker’s bonuses and golden handshakes given to high ranking business executives to see the clear division between rich and poor. In such a non-consensual situation state authority can only maintain itself through violence. It works according to, what I call, a one-sided compliance with authority.

Would the state be dismantled and society be based on peaceful, voluntary cooperation it would lead to a social situation in which the ruling class dissolves. That society will have many legal regimes, all based on treaty and contract law (a consensus-system). In order to respond to undesirable issues (environmental protection) a strong legal system will be furnished for the purpose of compensation and indemnification.

Chartier is also convinced that a just legal regime directs itself against the injury of non-human animals and vulnerable persons. I assume that this is tantamount to offer protection to those in need, such as when (some) children find themselves in untenable situations (because they have a different skin color, or belong to an outcast group — like the Roma –, or are heavily neglected by their family).

The relationship between a just legal regime and crime becomes more clear. Chartier rightly points out that crime is a statist category and that criminal law is an instrument of state power. The state has the power of definition. This power expresses by means of a list of specific offenses whose “morality” prevails, inescapably this is the morality of capitalism (if it even has morality). Life in a just society — an anti-capitalist society according to Chartier — predicts that crime rates will decline. This is not an odd thought. The state needs the criminal justice system to exert its threats. These threats must ward off attacks on the ruling class and the predatory system on which it subsists. This is partly a function of the state. The state defines what is considered crime, its definitions logically related to the state’s own function. Replace this model by the alternative to which Chartier is so committed and the crime rate, as is his hypothesis, will drop significantly.

Here we encounter a parallel with the objection to criminal law as recently expressed in the French weekly anarchist newspaper Le Monde Libertaire (issue no. 1747, 3-9 July, 2014):

The prison, the house of detention, the incarceration, forced “rehabilitation”, all these forms of coercion are built on the four pillars of capitalism: exploitation, deprivation, oppression and contempt. Is is for that reason that the anti-capitalist struggle is necessarily a struggle against detention. We believe that capitalism makes use of incarceration and the prison system to undermine the social struggle and to weaken, disrupt, paralyze, and destroy the resistance.

Now it is also understandable why crime is in fact allowed to thrive in a statist situation: it creates the legitimacy for the existence of a criminal justice system. Therefore detention does not act to reduce crime. For more than a century it is known that prisons are recidivist institutions. Following the results of a large-scale research the French daily Le Monde once headlined, “How French prisons produce recidivism”. Statistical data showed that 60% of those sentenced to prison were sentenced yet again within 5 years of release (Le Monde, October 15th, 2011).

It is clear that we live in a world — a statist one — in which, for example, organized crime is generated: corruption, disguised gangsterism, seedy affairs in what is called “sports” (“sold” games, betting, doping, prostitution, Qatar-like affairs). This has everything to do with capitalism. Or as the early 20th century French physician and criminologist A. Lacassagne once remarked, “Societies have the criminals they deserve”. A state society thus knows crime, much of which will be unknown in a stateless society. Chartier’s hypothesis is anything but bold.

Leftist, anti-capitalist and socialist

The legal and political project that Chartier has set up with his book he calls leftist, anti-capitalist, and socialist. He understands these characteristics as traditions in which certain goals are pursued, without the use of statist means. He calls his project leftist because it is motivated by left-wing themes that generate resistance against oppression, exclusion, poverty, and war. In his view embracing anarchism is an effective means to achieve the left’s main goals.

The project is anti-capitalist because the justified legal rules and legal institutions in a stateless society will undermine and abolish the privileges and social domination of the capitalists. Chartier distinguishes five types of capitalism. Each type he characterizes with one core concept: (1) voluntary association, (2) private-public partnership, (3) management by capitalists, (4) political-economical status quo, and (5) hyper-commercialization. The first type he accepts and the rest he rejects outright.

The first type he describes as: an economic system that utilizes the protection of justified property and the voluntary exchange of goods and services. In the aforementioned text we have already been able to ascertain what falls under unjustified claims of property (such as the acquisition of wealth based on theft, going back to feudalism). The four rejected types of capitalism accommodate the modern forms of theft, such as cases where there are privileged connections between corporations and government, the domination of workplaces and society by capitalists, so that a relatively small group of people manages the wealth and the means of production.

I can follow this line of thinking under the following condition. The state is not the only institution that threatens freedom. There is also something called “structural violence” and one of its sources is (excessive) wealth. This means that under an alternative model of society based on freedom there must also be an economic basis of social equality. We know how formal equality, without the abolition of large (economic) inequality, turns out. It is everyone’s right to sleep under the bridges of Paris, but not everyone has to… This problem has been summarized by Bakunin, “Freedom without socialism means privilege and injustice; and socialism without freedom means slavery and oppression”.

Chartier responds immediately. According to him his project can also be understood as socialist because it connects with other anti-state socialists. They aim to solve the “social question” by decisively encouraging unadulterated, radical social cooperation. The first author Chartier mentions is the early 19th century English political-economist, Thomas Hodgskin. Hodgskin provides a sharp critique of the inequality of positions in trade — distorted by privilege –, becoming a source of unjust economy. For those who agree a hostility towards capitalism is fostered alongside a sympathy for the working class.

Socialism is not only a critique of capitalism or an adherence to the labor theory of value, it is also a constructive philosophy of social management. Certainly many socialist authors think of a state contribution to this “social management” (or actively advocate it) and thus legitimize the existence of a state. It is precisely this which free-market anarchists reject. And they are not alone: every anarchist does.

Chartier summarizes this discussion and remarks that: given that socialism encourages the establishment of institutions to undermine oppression and theft, there is no reason not to recognize Hodgskin as a socialist. Then the opportunity is provided to categorize such institutions as the effects of “peaceful, voluntary cooperation”. The latter is reinforced when Chartier puts forward late 19th century anarchist Benjamin Tucker as someone who as a socialist favors peaceful, voluntary cooperation through trade and rejects state-guaranteed privilege.

During further consideration of this issue other American anarchists make their appearance such as Benjamin Tucker’s mentor Josiah Warren (1798-1874) and Lysander Spooner (1808-1887). The latter spent time as a lawyer, abolitionist, supporter of the labor movement, and started a postal service in 1884 with which he competed with the American government. The American government caused bankruptcy of Spooner’s company after legal attacks. The mentioned authors are traditionally seen as being part of individualist-anarchism. Chartier places them in the category of anti-state socialism.

Peaceful, voluntary cooperation

A credible anarchist project must engage itself with attacks on the many facets of capitalism: state protected privilege, social domination by elites, the canonization of trade, in short the economic apparatus which governs our world. Therefore it makes sense to give insight into how anarchist law and anarchist politics (not in the sense of “party politics” seeking a position alongside parliamentarism) attempt to undermine capitalism, says Chartier.

Chartier also coins two terms, political- and cultural anarchism. The former expresses a live and let live attitude (rejecting the state) and the latter refers to a peaceful undermining of hierarchies in businesses, communities, families, churches and other social institutions. It promotes the personal freedom of self-development, self-identification and self-expression, etc.

The anarchist legal project, as he has built up using a large amount of hypothesis, therefore features side-by-side (a) the ideal of peaceful, voluntary cooperation (the stateless model) and (b) the current — rejected — reality of the ruling state model. His text constantly illustrates this dichotomy. Chartier continually unravels the elements with which the state expresses itself in order to describe the elements out of which the alternative model will be built up. All the while he develops an anarchist legal theory and shows ways in which it can be applied. And no one can blame him for profiting financially by means of his project; all author’s royalties received for the book are donated to the libertarian anti-war movement.

CHARTIER, Gary, Anarchy and Legal Order, Law and Politics for a Stateless Society, Cambridge University Press, New York, 2013, 416 pages. $37.99

Remarks:

[1] AntiWar  about itself: “Our dedication to libertarian principles, inspired in large part by the works and example of the late Murray N. Rothbard, is reflected on this site”. Click here.

[2] The political and anarchist considerations of Chartier’s book are an object of study and commentary at the Center for a Stateless Society.

[3] As a social policy the Salvadorian government gives seed and fertilizer to 400,000 farmers under the Plan for Family Agriculture. To achieve this goal the government purchases seed from 18 Salvadorian companies. This may be seen as a laudable gesture by the Salvadorian government. But that same government signed a free-trade agreement with the US in 2004. The combination of these two state actions shows us that when a state does something good it also finds itself doing the opposite. The free-trade agreement allows for the powerful American multinational biotechnological company Monsanto to enter the Salvadorian seed market. The agreement thus provides a means of blackmail for the American government. If Monsanto is not given preferential treatment in the Salvadorian domestic market then the US will withhold 200 million euro worth of financial support. In short, the US bought an ensured market share for Monsanto (and other American companies) for only 200 million euros, meaning the companies maintain their privilege. For more information click here [DUTCH].

[4] A number of parliamentary inquiries:

Parliamentary inquiry shipbuilding company Rijn-Schelde-Verolme (1983; 2,2 billion guilders).

Parliamentary inquiry construction subsidies (1986; monitoring and implementation of regulations has failed).

Parliamentary inquiry Implementation social insurance (1992; monitoring failed; no idea what executive bodies were doing).

Parliamentary inquiry construction fraud (2002; monitoring failed; there has been large-scale fraud, leading to price increases).

Parliamentary inquiry financial system (2010; major errors made during billion dollar bail-outs).

Parliamentary inquiry Fyra (2013; problems with high-speed rail system and trains that would use it; final committee report due in may 2015).

Parliamentary inquiry Housing Corporations (what went wrong and what did it cost?; final committee report due in fall 2014).

As part of the inquiry on housing corporations harsh words were spoken regarding a certain clumsy minister; more on that subject here [DUTCH]. It was also considered a neccesity by the minister in question to operate in secret; as was declared by ex-minister Donner in the Vestia case. Click here [DUTCH].

The Betuwe railway did not lead to a parliamentary inquiry. This is not to say it wasn’t needed. However a parliamentary study regarding infrastructure projects was undertaken (2003-2005); how did it happen that budget excesses we’re not reined in? Did the ministry ignore critical advise and was information withheld? Additional costs: several billion euro. About the parliamentary study, click here [DUTCH], about the necessity of a parliamentary inquiry , click here [DUTCH].

[5] More about the IT-debacle at the Ministry of Defense, click here. [DUTCH]

Televised presidential debates are once again the center of commentary in Brazil. And once again we are left with “no clear winner” and very little idea of what kind of discussion we watched between would-be rulers. Why is that?

Modern journalism — Walter Lippman’s ideal of the intermediation of facts between the public and the elites — is specially adapted to corporate production of news and analyses. As Kevin Carson observes, the current journalistic model requires minimal reference to facts, since facts themselves are not independently important of their support by a “specialized” elite.  

More than a content generation model, current journalism is also an organization practice, since it devalues journalistic labor, because it loses its reference point and has to resort to the subjective opinions of those who are already in established positions inside social and political institutions. When journalistic work is hollowed out like that, it becomes just a tool to replicate the validity of a social structure, because it’s that structure which validates journalism itself (the coverage of protests, for instance, is only valid when a police officer speaks about it; the coverage of elections is only validated if it exhibits the opinions of representatives of established political parties; and so on).

Thus, when the journalist gets away from that production model and seeks sources and facts that are independent of the approval of established players, there’s a sensation of strangeness. There’s a breakout from what is generally considered to be the role of the press and a deviation from what has been internalized as journalistic neutrality. For instance, after the recent interviews with Brazilian presidential candidates on the largest newscast in the country, Jornal Nacional, there have been several criticisms to anchor William Bonner’s incisiveness. He tended not to attach himself too much to the authorized subjects of the Good Political Debate (one very widespread idea on politics nowadays is that we’re supposed to “discuss the candidates’s proposals,” implicitly assuming that the very existence of these proposals is desirable or justifiable, given the history of presidential programs and projects).

In this search for institutional neutrality, moreover, a very common scenario occurs in the evaluation of presidential debates. After Band’s and SBT’s debates, there were several analyses that didn’t reference any undisputed fact or discussion that had taken place. Instead, journalists acted as media training consultants, assessing whether candidates were “nervous,” or “fumbled their answers,” or “weren’t secure,” or “projected a strong image,” or “sounded trustworthy,” among other banalities.

This kind of evaluation doesn’t require any recourse to facts and assumes a passiveness from the viewer, who is seen as incapable of assessing the performance of candidates and their discourses. If journalists assumed an active viewer, they would pass their own evaluation on the content and posture of the candidates; they would say that the candidate performed well, presented his ideas well or badly, showed herself the best or the worst among the options, for instance. Instead, journalists imagine an average viewer and voter, who assesses attitudes in a very specific pattern and worries particularly about certain gestures and ways of talking.

Journalists will never let out their own opinion about politicians, having a clear ideology as a starting point, but they will pontificate on how the candidates “were seen” (as strong or weak) and “were considered” (as trustworthy or not). Never from their own point of view, always from the point of view of some obscure independent evaluator to whom no one has access — the average viewer.

The very debate format is also questionable: Why is it that candidates have any freedom at all to select the themes they want to talk about? Isn’t it implausible that the politicians themselves know what’s relevant for the population at large? Wouldn’t it be more reasonable to assume that the candidates — especially to very high up in the ladder positions — are too detached from the concerns of the people and more worried about keeping their own prestige?

That’s why electoral debates, even though they’re seen as excellent TV entertainment (especially nowadays, when tow along thousands of memes and jokes in social media), don’t have any informative value on politics.

Their format is vitiated and journalists, who should be able to provide an objective evaluation of discussions, put themselves in the place of an imaginary voter. And journalists are not the ones who set the important issues to be discussed — the politicians are, for journalism currently has no validity outside the existent social structures.

And that’s why electoral debates are a circus.

Eleitores de políticos como o candidato à presidência Aécio Neves, assim como muitos apoiadores do PSDB de forma geral, se surpreendem pela falta de impacto de ideias atreladas à “eficiência” do setor público, que buscam um “choque de gestão” e a “profissionalização” do governo. É um pensamento moderadamente disseminado, que também era encabeçado no governo de Pernambuco (mais como manobra de campanha do que como política efetiva, vale ressaltar) por Eduardo Campos, morto no último dia 12 de agosto. No fundo, a crença é de que existe — ou ao menos deve existir — uma separação vital entre administração pública e política; entre ideologia e eficiência. Contudo, a ideia de profissionalizar a política, de colocar “técnicos” nos cargos públicos, de “gerir” a coisa pública como se fosse uma firma convencional é, em si, profundamente ideológica.

E não é das ideologias mais novas: Thorstein Veblen já acenava com sua tecnocracia de engenheiros nos anos 1920. Veblen, em seu conhecido The Engineers and the Price System (“Os engenheiros e o sistema de preços”, em português) colocava os engenheiros (“técnicos”) como a classe capaz de promover os princípios da “gerência científica” para a produção — em contraposição a um sistema de mercado, com sinalização livre de preços. Veblen não tinha quaisquer problemas com o modo organizacional corporativo e pretendia universalizar a corporação como instituição base da sociedade, eliminando qualquer limitação técnica à operação do que ele chamava de “valores industriais”, que estavam ligados à eficiência produtiva (que, necessariamente, estavam em contraposição aos incentivos de mercado, para ele).

As ideias veblenianas de promoção da indústria e da técnica eram especificamente defendidas por ele porque seriam o ponto de partida de uma sociedade de produção massificada. Essa sociedade e seus valores dariam origem, através dos trabalhadores industriais, a uma nova democracia, com um novo estilo de gerência voltado para a eficiência, para a técnica e para a gestão. Ou seja, uma máquina perfeitamente adaptada ao controle e à regulação da sociedade.

Esse ideal social um tanto distópico conseguiu angariar adeptos e se modificar levemente ao longo do século 20 nos trabalhos de progressistas managerialistas, como Joseph Schumpeter e John Kenneth Galbraith. Hoje em dia, encontra eco em políticos que pensam estar gritando com a voz da inovação ao afirmar que os especialistas devem ocupar os cargos estatais. É uma ideologia conveniente também para burocratas porque ela não pergunta se posições devem existir, mas quem deve preenchê-las. Não é se devemos ser governados, mas quem deve nos governar. Quem nós poderíamos querer para ocupar o Trono de Ferro além de um “especialista”? Alguém que se levasse não pelos valores político-ideológicos, mas pelos “valores industriais” de que falava Veblen. Alguém para aplicar óleo nessa grande e bela engrenagem que é a sociedade.

Tudo isso é um completo absurdo, é claro, porque quando falamos de política, falamos de ideologia — falamos de priorização, de colocar um fim coletivo como preferível em relação a outro. Porém, não há objetivos sociais no âmbito macro, a não ser como soma das partes individuais ou como metáfora. Por isso também não há a possibilidade de colocar a gestão pública a cargo de especialistas, porque a própria definição do que é a “gestão pública” é uma questão ideológica passível de negociação política e resistência.

Não é possível tirar a ideologia do que compõe o governo porque o governo é uma ideologia: é a ideologia do poder, do controle e a da supressão da dissidência. É a ideologia da conformidade, do macrossocial, da ideia de sociedade como construção completamente abstrata e não como redutível a suas partes individuais.

Governar, longe de ser a ausência de planos e ideologias, é a costura de planos ideológicos majoritários dentro de uma hierarquia. Não à toa, os movimentos anarquistas historicamente tendem ao horizontalismo e ao consensualismo para evitar a formação de maiorias e ao enrijecimento de estruturas de poder burocráticas. São justamente essas ideias horizontais que pretendem mitigar os efeitos de ideologias particulares aplicadas sobre o coletivo. Em contraste, a tecnocracia não passa de um despotismo esclarecido, com sua tentativa de racionalizar processos. É claro que é positivo que os processos socialmente desejáveis sejam eficientes e gastem menos recursos; mas primeiro nós precisamos saber quais são esses processos desejáveis.

Não deixa de ser um tanto irônico que sejam políticos carreiristas os maiores (e talvez mais cínicos) defensores do credo tecnocrata. O próprio Aécio Neves, apesar de suas juras de amor à eficiência pública, se tem qualquer especialidade é em se posicionar dentro do aparato estatal: já foi diretor da Caixa Econômica Federal, secretário da presidência, deputado, governador, senador.

Pode ser que Aécio Neves atualmente seja só um fantoche da narrativa que construiu para si mesmo, que ele reproduz como refém de sua retórica. Porque Aécio nunca foi técnico; os técnicos são apenas o braço de execução dos seus planos políticos.

It is occasionally, when I’m not having to defend colleagues from “anti-PC” crusaders terrified that they’re losing “muh libertarianism” or when I’m not writing joke articles making fun of Mark Ames, the mission of this blog series to engage in media criticism. Truth be told, there’s a lot to criticize about the media these days. The entire news industry is in the midst of a massive technological shakeup, employment is fluctuating wildly, legacy organizations are being forced to adapt to a new paradigm of getting stories right versus keeping them “fair and balanced”… and on and on.

This isn’t just happening in the mainstream, either. Independent and alternative media has its own share of problems, from debates about credibility to maneuvering a more heavily-activist-populated space to figuring out how to break fast-moving stories and get them more right than the major media.

And then there’s the whole “journalism vs. the State” thing, which played out exquisitely in Ferguson, Missouri. Journalists were arrested, tear gassed, pushed around by cops – and it was all caught on film. Police State, USA was broadcast to the living rooms of every moderate, middle-class-identifying American, and suddenly we’re actually talking about demilitarizing the police. In public. Not in the C4SS comment thread. It’s magical.

But this has all been playing out (aside from Ferguson) within the space of decades. The signs of economic stress on journalism likely showed up in the early 90s, as computers began to proliferate and people began to stop subscribing to newspapers as much. Cable news’s polarization (again, in the 90s) threw the industry’s pretension toward objectivity into question, as news consumers found the source of media that best soothed their confirmation biases and stuck with them as the “most reliable” source. Independent media has never, by definition, been “objective” in the sense that most journalists mean it, but they’ve had to deal with the pseudoscience and new age spiritual baggage that seemed to attach itself to the indie newspapers in the 60s and just never let go.

So yes, there’s lots to criticize in the media – and lots to criticize from an anarchist perspective – but they’re perennial problems. They’re not going to be solved in an hour, or by one undergrad writing a blog about it.

There is, however, one niche media market that is seemingly undergoing a Pulitzer vs. Hearst-level dustup right now: games journalism. And since it isn’t every day you maybe run into a conflict the likes of which haven’t been seen in a century, that’s what we’re gonna focus on this week.

~*~

First, for the readers, a quick summation of “Gamergate” and why it’s notable.

About two weeks ago, programmer Eron Gjoni posted a long, angry accusation of infidelity against his then-girlfriend, independent developer Zoe Quinn, to a self-hosted WordPress blog. He alleged that she had slept with five other people, including a writer at games blogs Kotaku and Rock Paper Shotgun, Nathan Grayson, during their relationship. Readers then seemed to infer that Quinn had slept with Grayson in exchange for positive reviews on her just-released indie game, Depression Quest, a notion that Gjoni himself later dispelled:

To be clear, if there was any conflict of interest between Zoe and Nathan regarding coverage of Depression Quest prior to April, I have no reason to believe that it was sexual in nature. -Eron Gjoni, August 16, 2014 (edited)

However, it was Quinn’s relationship with Grayson that seemed to set off a firestorm among the video game community, such as it is. Even though Gjoni refuted it, and even though Kotaku Editor-In-Chief Stephen Totilo refuted it, and even though Quinn herself refuted it and talked about why it’s goddamn ridiculous to talk about people’s sex lives like they’re any of your business, and even though Nathan Grayson didn’t write the Kotaku Depression Quest review, people still took this as an opportunity to pile onto Quinn and anyone who seemed to think about defending her, all in the name of protesting corruption in video game journalism.

And so there are two threads here that diverge in spots and converge in others: the thread that ostensibly legitimately cares about integrity in video game journalism, and the thread that sees a “social justice warrior” conspiracy in the video game community (such as it is) and will attack any sign of that. When I jumped in the “gamergate” Twitter hashtag with a snarky comment about “gamer dudebros,” people quickly responded that gamergate actually consisted of a diverse range of people including women and individuals in the LGBT community, all concerned with corruption in games news (which, it turned out as our discussion progressed, still centered on Quinn). My experience in the tag did seem to be an outlier, however; as I was asking questions of my small, adversarial, yet seemingly amiable audience, friends of mine were receiving threats, abuse and harassment from people in the same space. Diverse, indeed.

~*~

After a few hours of going back and forth with a few people in the gamergate tag who seemed willing to engage my questions about the role of media in their community, I emerged with new understanding of some key points:

1. There desperately needs to be a giant, year-long (longer if need be) open conversation between game journalists and their consumer base; and
2. Gamergate simply isn’t the foundation for that discussion.

It probably sounds presumptuous of me to say that, but I only do so after considering the material those I talked to gave me, and observing the behavior of many more participants in the tag. Looking purely at the media criticism angle, y’all have some fundamental misunderstandings of how “journalism” works in meatspace – especially within the realm of trade media (we’ll get to it) – versus how it is supposed to ideally function. One person I spoke to wanted both objectivity from the media they were criticizing and “consistency” – their term – in what was covered. When I pointed out that one did not necessarily allow the other, I was told I was being too academic for the discussion.

If the discussion is trying to address endemic problems in the industry, then it’s my view that it should be as academic as possible. If the discussion is trying to provoke a witch hunt against one independent developer (I can’t stress the independent part enough, especially since the ostensible goal is to eliminate corruption) and those who disagree with you about that, then I’m happy to throw my academic stick in your spokes.

Being media literate is a major prerequisite to being able to criticize media well. The screenshots of forum posts, articles posted to deviantart, one person linked me to an article by A Voice for Men, an MRA page – you may consider these things to be evidence supporting your position and damning the conspiracy of social justice warrior commentariat ruining gaming, but to an outsider who, despite poking the tag with a stick initially, attempted to engage in good faith with you, it looks kinda like a mess of conjecture. It also doesn’t add up to a good critique of game journalism. You will need to learn how to cut through chaff and analyze actually important bits of information if your real goal is to end game journalism’s apparent corruption.

Tadhg Kelly at Gamasutra actually put it brilliantly:

And what of the media? Well, frankly, you’re simply out of your mind if you think that the gaming media of yesteryear was somehow more noble than it is today. It used to be way way worse. Back when magazines ruled the roost, for instance, there were plenty of bought reviews in exchange for promised advertising, feature coverage and the like, and far less ways for those stories to get out. You forget that today you have all these networks like Reddit on which you can gather and hear the real skinny. Back then you didn’t, and were duped far more often than now.

Today’s gaming media has never been more active or honest. Through outlets like Giant Bomb, Kotaku, Destructoid, YouTubers and the like a multitude of voices can be heard. The communities that form around them are barely corralled (I mean this as a virtue). The amount of quick analysis, exposure, true feelings about games and the reduction of paid reviews and the like is palpable. The conversation has long stopped being anything like a co-ordinated press organ of previews, reviews and columns and instead become delightfully anarchic. Sure it’s still a bit slushy sometimes (I’m particularly worried about the ethical standards among YouTubers) but still.

You often seem to carry on with this wacky notion that media journalism is a form of reporting similar to news media, talking about how journalists should behave like hard-hitting Woodwards and Bernsteins, but seriously think. A lot of gaming journalism is essentially a benign form of marketing. Coverage of E3, for example, is just video’d enthusiasm and debate over infomercials. The bulk of articles on sites are positivist coverage of new games, and that’s what you actually want to read. It may sound great in principle to have some uncorrupted soul-searing journos on the beat for the truth, but this is video games. There isn’t much truth to be found.

Here’s something important and valuable: trade journalism is not the same – and doesn’t play by the same rules – as “regular” journalism. Publications and websites that devote themselves to a specific niche, or a specific niche-within-a-niche, frequently must form extensive personal and professional relationships with those they cover in order to do their jobs. Additionally, much of the bread-and-butter content of trade media are subjective product reviews, behind-the-scenes features, previews and industry interviews. All of these can be gotten by a so-called “objective” outside journalist, but an interesting thing happens: their story tends not to be as in depth or as tuned into the cultural background noise as the trade journalist’s story is. This is why there’s such a major difference between a convention like E3 and the coverage it generates and a convention like PAX Prime. Both are major events, but one is specifically geared toward outside journalists.

The same kind of phenomenon holds true in other niche markets; in motocross, to use one random example, one of the largest American publications is owned by the same person who heads the management body of the US Motocross Outdoor Nationals. This fact is widely known, but there’s no crusade for an end to the corruption in motocross media. The participants, press and industry all know each other intimately, and while that definitely opens the door wide open for corruption, the work the writers do for publications within that niche tends to be better than work done from the outside.

However, this is not to say that the kind of ethics generally followed by outside press need to be eschewed when you scale down. The Society for Professional Journalists still has the best ethics list around, and as a basic foundation they’re fantastic to refer to in whatever discussion comes out of this.

~*~

I’ve spent most of this article kind of maybe defending the video game press from some of the criticisms it’s faced recently. However, I need to address you directly for a moment.

Most of you already know that you have a responsibility to your readers to work as ethically as you can, and with as little interference from those you cover as possible. I’ve read a lot of editorial staff statements defending your work and I believe you when you say that you’re operating as above-board as humanly possible, and I actually agree that you’re not operating on the same playing field and therefore shouldn’t be expected to play with the same rules as journalists at the New York Times.

But I spend all day studying the media. My blogroll is occupied by Jim Romenesko and Jay Rosen and Margaret Sullivan and NPR’s mysterious ombudsman. I understand what you mean when you say your relationship with advertisers and developers is complex. But your readers, the people whose blogroll is occupied by your websites and then Reddit and 4chan and 9gag and on and on, they may not understand – or worse, they may misunderstand that relationship. This is where you need to spend time clarifying everything. You need to let some sunshine in on your operations so that no one can credibly accuse you of shady dealings again. This has the added bonus of lending some credence to the idea that games journalism is actually becoming more professional.

My advice is to spend 2015 going to conventions and having meetups with readers who have concerns about your ethics and want to understand you better. That’s literally it. You don’t have to have panels or spend money on booths, just go and be available in some capacity to readers who want to know more about how these things work. If you find that too prohibitive, hire an ombudsman.

That’s it, literally. I’ve said everything I wanted to say on this subject. If you’ve got questions or comments, as always, feel free to leave them for me to answer (or not) below. You can follow us at @missingcomma and @c4ssdotorg on Twitter. I’m available there at @illicitpopsicle and Juliana is @julianatweets0. See you next week.