Capitalist Complacency

Three Ways Sweatshops Help The Poor Escape Poverty

The above video is a horrid defense of neoliberal capitalism. The speaker (who gave him a doctorate and why I don't know) argues that there's no other option for the poor working in sweatshops in third world countries because they would starve to death if fired from their job. Case in point? Workers fired from sweatshops earned much less income per month than workers who continued to be mistreated in what is tantamount to slave labor. Therefore, sweatshops help the poor "escape" poverty because, well, at least they're not dead! Never mind the pitiful wage, the horrid working conditions, and absence of health-care benefits and job security.

The scope of the argument is incredibly narrow, basing its premise solely on amount of income earned. Framed within the message the speaker wishes to present (thus his approach inherently invalidates his point), the current scenarios exist within a vacuum and so the causes which brought about these circumstances are not to be examined. Further, these actions are not voluntary, so they can't even be regarded as free-market phenomena. It's about as voluntary as someone placing a gun to my temple to force me to vote (which is more or less what some parts of Australia do now). The term is completely bankrupt of meaning here. This is just a poor attempt to sugarcoat the harmful externalities that capitalism generates.

The filmstrip was released by an organization called "LearnLiberty", which identifies with right-libertarianism (pretty much the opposite of even a diluted notion of liberty). Even more contradictory is that the speaker suspiciously forgets to mention that the reason working conditions are so poor in third world countries is because the investors into third-world labor purposely undermine worker's rights, a consequence of the expansion of neoliberal policies.

They push tariffs and other trade-barriers to prevent more authentic free market outcomes in a positive direction. The ones with the most capital to overcome these tariffs are the ones with the monopoly on third world labor: the neoliberal investors abetted by the sweatshop operators who exploit the workers. Right-libertarians would oppose state interference since it's seen as the sole barrier to genuine participation in the free market. Instead, we see a right-libertarian defending conditions brought about by state intervention.

I oppose the complacency that the video defends and even encourages. It aims to soothe criticism of present conditions, not utilize it to work toward fairer ones. This isn't an issue of sweatshop labor vs. starvation. Wage-labor effectively boils down to that, no matter if one talks of a first-world office cubicle or a third-world slum-house. It's the broader problematic of addressing the conditions which perpetuate these inequalities that should be the focus of these discussions. Limiting the scope of the issue to only what's readily apparent hardly yields creative insight into potential solutions to these problems. These are not issues to be taken at face value if we know the real goal is to move beyond these terrible conditions.

Elephant On A Stampede: Why the Left Still Matters

"[I]n this election, you have two very different visions to choose from." - Barack H. Obama 


If only this were true. The United States boasts two right-wing political parties which dominate statecraft. Indeed, Obama has surrounded himself with prominent conservative officials hand-picked from the previous Bush administration, including a few responsible for the financial collapse on Wall Street. How many voters realize this, though? If they're aware of the favoritism Obama demonstrates towards corporations and bankers, how can Obama continue to campaign as a 'leftist' candidate? The truth seems to be that voter apathy combined with general ignorance of political dynamics amongst the populace makes for a ruinous cocktail of delusional faith and resurgent cynicism in a corrupt system. Fortunately, though, Occupy Wall Street and its analogous offshoots constituting the broader Occupy movement spanning the globe seem to be shedding light on the social and political discontent towards capitalism and the democratic process which are inextricably tied to one another.



It seems to be a cycle. The general thrust of discontent in reaction to scandals and so forth demands that the targeted problem be fixed or overthrown in favor of an effaceable replacement. This manifests in episodic bursts of public fury and media profiteering for a considerable length of time. Then it quiets down, with dissenters having decided that their protests successfully challenged the monolith of state power. Until the next time, that is. If not because of that,  it's due to reduced momentum in the public outcry. The call of the television set is too strong for some to resist. Energy has been spent with no visible effect beyond forcing the ghouls to retreat for an indefinite length of time. But the disenfranchised can take solace in the fact that at least for now, the menacing sword of Damocles has ascended -- albeit still hanging ominously above their heads. 


Two party-scenarios tend to generate a positive feedback loop in terms of the response candidates receive from the public. In one sense, the situation is akin to Pavlov's dog. The drooling populace has been trained to respond to the bell -- in this case, the rhetoric of the self-appointed political moderate where there's no actual promise (the food) to be delivered on. One of the candidates concedes ground to appear moderate in comparison to the other, so as to cater to their voter base's demographics. For instance, the public consensus (that is, the policies the public wants but doesn't get) is much to the left of Obama, but decidedly to the left of the GOP mainstays. By appearing to be the lesser of two evils in light of this, Obama would have an easier time snagging an election.


This played out well in the recent Republican nomination campaigns. Romney successfully ran as a Republican moderate with several positions comparable to Obama's, which attracted criticism charging that he was pulling too far to the left. But I think that any significant shift toward the left (indeed, significant because the mainstream GOP is already so far-right) is due to the fact that the public consensus is decidedly left-leaning.


This is not to say that the consensus will be, in any meaningful way, satisfactorily met. It exists solely as a useful metric from which politicians can curry public favor in the publics' naive hope that their demands will be acted upon and not merely heard. Whether or not the strategy to cater to this trend is successful depends on who's running and what's at stake. Why did George W. Bush get re-elected, if the public consensus is to the left of either party? Irrational fear of terrorism is a prominent factor in his winning the mandate, in this case. 


He wasn't elected because the largest plurality at the time was right-leaning per se, but precisely because the Left is too weak to effectively counter antidemocratic forces on a parallel scale. I mention the Left in particular because it heralds what I believe to be truly democratic values. This is not to say that conservatives are inherently undemocratic. The Left simply has a tendency to embrace genuine reformism, which I think is a necessary step towards democratizing power relations between groups. 


Strictly speaking, reformism belongs to neither the Left nor the Right. But the dictionary definition of "reform" tends to disqualify conservative approaches to problems, and retains its meaning as it extends into the political realm. The concept of change in general is future-oriented, not past-oriented. Why is the Left weak? It's divided amongst so many issues -- owing to its extensive and diverse spectrum, tapering off into disparate tangents. To illustrate, we boast a bevy of anti-state leftists: democratic socialists, anarcho-communists, Marxist communists, libertarian Marxists and Luxemburgians, to name just a few. Social democrats and other reformist liberals throng the statist Left. Genuine anti-statism is acquainted with the leftist tradition. 


This intellectual diversity is not negative in itself, but renders the Left prone to needless sectarianism when ideology is elevated above solidarity. Western conservatives tend to be reactionary and thus find their identity rooted in a concretely defined heritage in the classical Liberal tradition, whereas leftists lack a concrete ground because their reformist tendencies mean they address issues as they present themselves. This leads to unique solutions to compliment unique problems. 


If we attempted to catalog these approaches into an overarching theme, we would run into numerous contradictions. For instance, both Marxists and Anarchists desire the formation of a stateless, egalitarian society, but disagree on the approach to realizing such a conception. In contrast, there are disagreements, but conservatism is not nearly as disparate or fragmented. It's interesting to note that tendencies identified with contemporary American conservatism were decidedly progressive within their historical context. They have since been appropriated by modern-day conservatism as distorted caricatures of their former selves, standing in stark opposition to what the drafters of the Constitution intended. 


I will take this opportunity to highlight the nuanced and layered meaning of "conservatism" within political discourse. "Conservatism" is best described as an attitude which is resistant to change. Yet there are several principles in politically conservative Islam which conflict with Western political conservatism. This is thanks to the two having developed under two different historical circumstances overarching different spans of time. Western conservatism is resistant to departure from classical Liberal values, whereas conservative Islam seeks to preserve the political structure under Muhammad. 


It would also make no sense to label George Washington, for instance, as a political conservative. Historically speaking, that would make him a monarchist. Within the historical context in which he lived, he was a progressive with clearly defined aims. The particularism of a given attitude is what separates a passive belief from an active doctrine which utilizes that attitude as a means to an end. In this case, what is now termed political conservatism would be progressive in the historical context from which it originated because it seeks to democratize (to an extent) relations of power for the betterment of the majority. Hence why the movement is formally referred to classical liberalism: the political spectrum has greatly expanded in scope since then. 


Back on point, some scholars have proposed that Thomas Paine, leading pamphleteer and author, was a left-libertarian, which renders his inculcation into the present-day conservative ethos ironic. The progressive attitude of the founding fathers would certainly explain the provisions secured within the Constitution which allow for change as time wears on. Note that I use the term "progressive" loosely to mean "advocacy of the betterment of [then] current conditions", not in reference to a specific political conception (that would imply statism, which is not the whole of the scheme I wish to sketch). Realistically speaking, humans as a whole have a vested interest in the betterment of current conditions. The drafters of the Constitution had specific aims, but labeling them 'progressive' doesn't effectively capture the whole essence of their vision. It's also problematic because the term implies a departure from established norms. What do we say of those who're interested in the betterment of current conditions, but not in a novel direction? 


It's a general attitude just like conservatism is. It's not a complex philosophical doctrine with clearly defined aims. The question is to what ends and by what means those conditions are improved. The specific ends and means constitute the doctrine, which would be particularized in discourse to distinguish it from the general meaning to avoid confusion. On point, the drafters understood that political and societal attitudes evolve in tandem, and previously reviled notions become accepted and vice versa. Perhaps it seems strange to brand a revolutionary like Thomas Paine as "progressive" because we encounter the narrative from a historical perspective where Western (classical) liberal values are taken for granted in a first world Western society.


The context is not only historical, but also cultural. The nature of progressivism requires us to think of it in the present-tense and as future-oriented and sensitive to the unique conditions which necessitate its plight. The conditions in which it takes place constitute the 'culture' which partially accounts for variations in the focus between a range of progressive movements spanning the globe. The values that progressives rally for in our liberal Western society today will perhaps be common-place within a few generations, but not so in a place like North Korea, where progressives may exist but attempts at any sort of reform are curtailed. 


Further, it belongs to a broader culture which disapproves of certain issues which progressives rally for, like acceptance of homosexuality. Tactics to bring this issue to the forefront of Korean popular consciousness will have to be innovative, and this is where the focus shifts and intensifies. Popular issues today may no longer be thought of as "progressive" according to what future circumstances dictate. But simply because inequality will continue to manifest itself in different forms in response to evolving societal relationships, so too will the aim and focus of progressivism as a general project shift in response to evolving incarnations of inequality. 


On point, certain values seen as meaningful back then ceased to be examined as time wore on, bringing into question their credibility today given our evolving set of circumstances. It follows then, that a conservative approach to contemporary problems, by its nature, is fruitless. This refusal to adapt to evolving circumstances may partly explain why its proponents seem so detached from reality. Thus, in order to propose serious democratic reforms, we must embrace the reformist tendencies of the left, and scheme a cogent narrative which articulates what the plurality desires in general. 


We must scheme a post-electoral democratic formula to address the root of these problems in contrast to being drawn back to the romanticized past which in part, perpetuated them. Do not be mistaken. There are certain values which must be defended in order to preserve individual liberty. This is perhaps the only context in which democratic leftists could be called conservative. Unfortunately, the masses are led to vote against their own interests. This is how governments can claim a mandate to pander to elite (right-wing) interests. 


This mandate is exacerbated by the political power these interests possess. If the policy doesn't exactly bend their way, the elite interests have more then enough resources to pull a few strings to shape it in the direction they want. This explains, at least partially, the discrepancy between public policy drafted in the "public interest" and the actual public consensus that should inform such approaches. If the masses could see the aging husk of electoral democracy for what it was, we could sufficiently organize to represent our own interests instead of relegating those duties to officials who do an about-face on us.

We may vote for the lesser evils because they exist, but they exist because the electoral system is broken, and we continue to naively profess that it isn't. Or if not that, we've become trapped in the cyclical cynicism of a demoralized populace that has been taught only to vote as part of the new democratic ethos shrouding our collective perception in a hazy mist of ruinous delusion. The newer generations are taught en masse not to examine beyond the surface the hollow causes that candidates promise to deliver on or the system that perpetuates these failures. Instead, they are exhorted to profess faith in a 'democratic' America that never was. The ones who see the aged husk of electoral democracy for what it is are left stranded with no feasible large-scale alternatives to flock to. 



Even then, for those who remain ignorant of the finer details either by chance of the conditions they're encased in, or choose to remain so, it's hard not to notice Occupy Wall Street. The movement and its analogous offshoots are a reaction to the elephant in the room which is silently acknowledged but not openly discussed. Has campaign and electoral reform ever been seriously proposed by candidates in either of the two major political parties, perhaps with the exception of Ron Paul and his loyal coterie of paleo-conservatives or Dennis Kucinich and his band of progressives? Has serious labor reform been proposed by these candidates? There have been proposals. But it's not widely acknowledged, let alone freely discussed. Or, if it has been acknowledged by some 'radical' elements, there is not enough momentum to organize the disparate criticisms leveled against the current democratic process (of which the electoral process is only a part) to formulate a unified platform on which the problems can be intelligently discussed and acted upon.  


From this perspective, the Occupy movement has become both an iconoclast and a lynch-pin, forming a veritable bulwark against corruption. It is the culmination of the downtrodden's frustrations. It unifies the once disparate criticisms which floated serenely through the vacuous ether of political favoritism, acknowledged, but to whom a blind eye had been cast in favor of the former. It has risen up and smashed the manufactured reality of the democratic process -- the icon -- whose scope has been restricted to hollow electoral interplays, for a sharper insight into the matter would dispel such illusions upon exposing the internal contradictions within. It has also, more importantly, provided a platform on which these contradictions within capitalism and democracy can be reconciled. It signifies a major change within the American political consciousness. The recognition not only of what plagues the system, but the means and the will to eradicate it towards the betterment of all. 



The elephant has escaped from the room, and it's on a stampede. 

Are Prisoners Citizens?

In a word, no. For some reason, this simple answer elicits vitriol from people who think otherwise. I had read a very logical reason for this position, and I have since adopted it and extended its implications. One person wrote:

"I know that prisoners lose certain rights such as mobility as an implicit part of imprisonment, but they are still citizens, and retain rights like voting and many rights defined by the Charter."

This assertion is incorrect. I wrote in response to him:

"Prisoners are not citizens. More specifically, incarcerated criminals have severed the contract with the State enough to merit revocation of citizenship rights, albeit leaving a few human rights intrinsic to the conception of prison. Once part of the prison term has been served, the prisoner may negotiate with the State for restoration of citizen status."

A simple, logical answer albeit in need of some expounding.

His statement to me:

"Actually prisoners are citizens, and they are also human beings. Suggesting otherwise is ridiculous, and smacks of "revenge justiste [sic]", of which I think the world has had quite enough, thank you very much."

You inhuman monster! You mean they don't deserve basic human rights! You're worse than Hitler! is what this response smacks of.

My reply, expanding on the reasoning behind my position:

"Hmm, no, they are not. The State (in this case, its configuration under Locke) claims its right to govern over citizens on the basis of a social contract (though this claim is ahistorical, let's grant it anyway). The relationship between the citizen and the state can be thought of as a set of contractual obligations, which is consistent with this theory.

Citizenship status is not handed out; you must sign on to it, and consequently take on a set of responsibilities which accommodate your rights that constitute the basis of citizenship. 

What are the rights conferred upon you by being a Canadian citizen? Two of them are the right to vote and the right to work and live in Canada. Non-citizens are not afforded these rights (permanent residents can work on a work visa. Non-citizens can't vote, for obvious reasons). 

In other words, you have a duty to keep to the State if you're to remain a citizen of any country. Obviously, this is to abide by the terms of the contract (the Law) set forward by the state. To break the law, and consequently the contract, results in punishment. Sever the contract severely enough, and said offender is relegated to the status of non-citizen, though this does not mean non-human, contrary to what you implied I implied. 

Those who are subject to the law, but do not possess political power to effect change as stipulated by the contract (the mentally ill/incompetent, children) are not citizens, though they remain bound by law with certain provisions regards their case. For example, a twelve year old criminally charged with theft would be treated as a juvenile offender in court. 

When we speak of a set of contractual obligations between the citizen and the state, we speak of it in a political capacity. That's to say, said citizens are competent enough (by virtue of legal status, mind you) to have a say in how the State's affairs are run. Citizens have political power. They are seen as 'masters' of the State, and are competent enough to uphold the contract enforced by it, as they understand the significance of the responsibilities in accordance with their rights, generally speaking. 

Prisoners do not have a say in governing the civil sphere since they have failed profoundly to uphold these responsibilities which accompany their rights as citizen. Therefore, failure to uphold responsibilities logically results in revocation of citizenship status. To afford prisoners political power inverts the reigning hierarchy and establishes incarcerated individuals as 'masters of the State' on par with that of their interpellated counterparts. 

Indeed, this is a non-sensical scenario, as prison is necessarily a totalitarian institution. The prison, a punitive State instrument, rules over the prisoners, not the other way around. To give them a say in governing the State affords them opportunities to manage their affairs in prison, as they can collectively decide on policies which affect them. Further, it gives them a say in governing the civil sphere. 

They have nominally offended against society, so they are removed from it. This is for the same reason you wouldn't give a foreigner the right to vote. Neither prisoner nor foreigner pay taxes. They do not contribute to the state's upkeep, so it also makes little sense to involve them in public affairs. 

The governed (that is, the citizen) is seen as the best person to manage State affairs to a limited degree, according to our democratic principles. Prisoners are stripped of their political power, and hence their say to manage civil matters, since they have profoundly failed to keep to their end of the contract with the State. This, in a nut-shell, is why prisoners are not citizens, and also an argument against affording prisoners the right to vote. 

What's "revenge justice"? My statement never even remotely implied that."

One other self-righteous dissenter rebuked my initial statement:

"You might want to read about the laws of this country before leaving the house, just to stay out of trouble."

Cute.

My reply: "You may want to read up on political philosophy and theory of justice." 


In fact, there's a book on the evolution behind the Western theory of justice which my sister was reading. I've wanted to borrow it from the library, but it's a rather lengthy tome. I may or may not borrow it. I forget the title, but I'm sure I'll find it. 



His rebuttal again: "I'm sure that will get you some interesting comments from a judge, shoul [sic] you be tried." 



My final response to him: "I'm sure a judge is more concerned with interpretation of the law, not the theory behind its guiding principles. The latter resides in the domain of legal theorists. Your comment is irrelevant; I was commenting on the relation between the citizen and the state, not the judicial process. I see you can't properly refute my account, so you resort to indirect attacks."



In summary, this short debate has made for an interesting excursion into the principles of justice and the theories which constitute them. Better yet, the philosophical issue is illustrated with concrete examples which people like you and I can easily relate to without being lost in abstract jargon. I hope it was relatable, at least. I've seen users on forums who criticize articulate members for being 'verbose' when in fact they explained their positions quite clearly. I'm convinced such attacks are just an admission of the person's failure to properly articulate a logical rebuttal. 

Ayn Rand's Objectivism

I heard of Ayn Rand before I read Virtue of Selfishness. I knew that her philosophy dealt with ethics and metaphysics. I also knew that she used it as a front to promote laissez-faire capitalism. To that end, I don't see it as a genuine political philosophy, but rather an intellectually shallow pseudo-philosophy tempered by Cold War paranoia and excessive capitalist romanticism. Glancing over her definitions and insight into the terms, she demonstrates a crude understanding of history, yet invests considerable insight into her moral philosophy. That said, it's not strictly a unique concept. No new modes of thought have been introduced. It's a quilt sewn together from previously existing concepts. Then she slapped a label on it and said "Yay! It's mine!"

There are several conditions Rand assumes in her (numerous) arguments. I will only address a few topics which are of interest to me.

Chapter 14: The Nature of Government


In chapter twelve, Rand opens by stating that a 'truly free' society must be consistent with the notion of individual rights. In this context, 'truly free' serves as a handy euphemism for laissez-faire capitalism. Rand argues that only this brand of capitalism can best exercise individual rights, because it incentivize persons to act in what she claims to be their 'rational self-interest', which is some sort of compromise between arbitrarily fulfilling each petty whim and acting out of selfless concern. In chapter fourteen, Rand asserts that the only entity mortgaged to enforce the protection of these rights is a state to which the governed express consent, and, in turn, to which statecraft is subordinated. 


The author assumed that since this hierarchal structure was brought about my 'democratic' activity, it's necessarily democratic (i.e. decentralized and subsumed to the interests of the governed). Her naiveté is precious. A monopoly on force is required to preserve a democratic society; this is what she fundamentally asserts. You can see that the two notions contradict one another. Further, the polity she illustrates ostensibly resembles a democracy, but constituents are systemically excluded from the majority of the political process. The best the masses can hope for is to ratify pre-formulated policy decisions. Other than that, public involvement in state affairs is extremely limited. This is representative democracy, and, the sort Rand appends to her philosophical praxis.

One crucial assumption Rand makes is that a government is necessarily statist. I will be loose in my usage of the term here since views on what a 'State' is are wide and varied. It spans a range of political phenomena that in one way or another involves a monopoly on the usage of force. It matters not under what conditions a state claims legitimacy; that's not my concern, be it democratic or monarchist. Her assumption can be contradicted very easily. In popular vernacular, government is understood to mean 'state': the two are interchangeable. Yet self-government is also a form of government. When I speak of self-government, I refer to voluntary association, a concept which figures prominently in socialist literature, and distorted by right-'libertarians'. Individuals band together under free agreement to realize goals of common interest to them. This implies that political interest is decentralized and directly controlled as opposed to being appropriated by illegitimate monopolies.

A 'democratic' State, say Canada, claims its legitimacy on an ahistorical basis known as the 'social contract', the one proposed by John Locke as a thought experiment (his aim was to frame discussion on this basis from which future societies could possibly arise). The modern-day democratic state defines the 'public interest' on this basis, which serves as a convenient surrogate for private elite interests. Even the outcome of policy which incidentally coincides with this stated aim is an epiphenomenon of the mechanisms which underlie the democratic framework. Larger democracies rely on public goods (i.e. 'good policy') to obtain and remain in power. Nominal democracies such as North Korea offer a limited array of mechanisms, both in number and scope, to manage state affairs at the popular level, whilst remaining beholden to private interests, extinguishing the need for 'good policy' since private interests are secured at the expense of the public.

This is not to say that democracies are as equally despicable as dictatorships. The binary classifications of the 'realist' school of international relations simply fail to capture then nuances between differing 'democracies' and fail to highlight the similarities between how a 'dictatorship' and a 'democracy' function. Suffice it to say, I have no illusions that our government is as publicly accountable as most think it to be. I recommend The Dictator's Handbook for a in-depth explanation of this issue. In fact, the theory propounded by the book serves as a viable alternative to the realist school of thought, and can account not only for how states function, but even corporations and charities.

There are several shortfalls I've alluded to which undermine the liberatory potential of a democratic conception of statism. You elect a hand-picked (he's elected by the party) once over a period of time. He's not immediately recallable. In order to kick him out office, you have to wait a few years. He doesn't sufficiently represent the public interest, but as we've seen, this is a moo t point since the public interest is farcical at best. He has  a platform on which you elect him. You can't adopt one policy without accepting another. There's no guarantee that anyone of your preferred policy will be acted upon, and if so, executed sufficiently to retain your loyalty. Civilians are excluded from the drafting process; they cannot review or suggest changes to proposed legislation. You cannot decide whether or not to go to war, or how to allocate spending. This public overview substituted with that handy euphemism, the 'public interest'. These are just some of the issues present with 'representative' democracy.

Finally, I don't think the right to the initiation of force necessarily underpins all conception of government (which disqualifies statism). I should note that the model Rand proposes is hierarchical since only one entity has the right to the means of force. This creates social relationships based around the usage of force, contrary to what Rand wishes to accomplish. There are several means besides the initiation of force which can be used to diffuse tensions peacefully. I understand that the purpose behind retributive punishment is to enforce normative expectations (those which underlie the societal framework). I believe this approach is excessive. If, as Rand asserts, man's highest faculty is reason, he should be predisposed to using reason and dialogue to resolve disputes. Force is a possible choice, but should it remain the focal point to which justice is subordinated?

Rand ignores the social relationships that capitalism (especially laissez-faire) creates. The relation of wage-labor means that labor is ceaselessly subjugated to private capital. Workers are coerced into selling their labor-power for pittance whilst the capitalist can hire additional wage-slaves from the expropriated surplus. The socialist would thus disagree with Rand that capitalism entails freedom for this very reason.

This criticism forms the core tenet of socialism which advocates worker's control of the means of production (factories, tools, etc.). The profound disadvantage to laissez-faire capitalism can be summed up as state-sanctioned monopoly on the means of life (tools for labor, recreation and expression) to the extreme.

I oppose this brand of capitalism because it unfairly raises dependency on the means of life, which are involuntarily used. In order to continue living, we continuously expend our resources (e.g. earn wage to purchase necessities from a commodity market, earned through labor power), which requires usage of the means of life, but since it's oriented toward profit in a capitalist society, the process is alienation (from labor product, other workers, the labor process, so forth) as opposed to fulfillment. 

Individuals in a socialist society would have more recreational time available since a large portion isn't concentrated into selling your labor-power for someone else's benefit. The portrait painted by right-“libertarians” is an idealistic caricature of capitalism as a given number of individuals freely agreeing to trade resources. This, ironically, captures the essence of truly free-market interactions as opposed to merely capitalist ones which claim to be free-market. The situation is complex; I won't reproduce it here for sake of brevity. Suffice it to say that right-“libertarians” and other capitalist apologists are living off in a romantic dream world which never was. In short, I think Ayn Rand is delusional.

Chapter 12: Man’s Rights

Rand opines about what principles constitute a “right”, who/what can protect them, and how such rights can be applied. The author correctly asserts that the issuance of rights implies an obligation. Because ‘collectivist’ rights (like “the right of every family to a decent home”) are altruistic, she reasons, they are tantamount to slave labor. Fair enough, though I think the comparison is a tad dramatic.

She writes:

“The right to life means that a man has the right to support his life by his own work (on any economic level, as high as his ability will carry him).” I would add that individuals can co-operate in the labor process, too. It's not an obligation, but a contract formed under free agreement. 

“The right to property means that a man has the right to take the economic actions necessary to earn property, to use it and to dispose of it; it does not mean that others must provide him with property.” I disagree with the first statement. It's very vague in what constitutes the concept of 'property' and how one 'earns' it. Is my T-shirt property, or is it a possession? 'Dispose' of under what conditions? What constitutes disposal (destroying it, relinquishing it)? It doesn't follow that if I 'own' some property that I can use it however I like. If I build a play center in a vine-yard, is that the most efficient use of the grounds, or is it better suited toward harvesting? There are practical as well as political aspects to this issue. 

Now this chapter is interesting because it concentrates a robust, individualistic focus on economic rights. Right-“libertarians” and other conservatives profess a naïve account of rugged self-sufficiency, as illustrated by Rand here. I read a response by someone far more articulate than myself in this instance when he wrote: “[I]n every case, individuals are preceded by other communities […] Rugged, self-sufficient individuals, to the extent that such people actually exist, come out of skilled and supportive communities that foster these skills and capabilities. They don't spring out of the ground fully formed, nor do they invent themselves whole-cloth such that they owe 'nothing' to their social environments.”

The point is well-illustrated. It's touching to think that even a newborn is an important 'individual', but realistically, they have not yet developed preferences, skills, talents and interests that would meaningfully distinguish them from another newborn. These particular sets are attained through self-discovery and nurtured by supportive communities (friends, teachers, parents etc). 

The whole spiel about how universal health-care (for instance) is evil, because socialism is scientifically proven not to work. We even see apes -- our closest cousins -- imposing private property laws and exploiting workers. It's a bit silly, no? Conservatives (the far-right ones) rely on the romantics of 'individualism' to the extreme to argue against, well, anything remotely beneficial for the population. Ron Paul is a pretty good example of this. As much as I respect him, his assumptions about reality are questionable. In his mind, only the government is capable of committing discriminatory acts, for some reason. If it's in the private sector, deal with it. 

To quote an article on the subject (see footnote), “a libertarian by definition opposes discrimination because libertarians oppose the state. [Ron Paul] cannot imagine social power exerting itself through any other form.” I'm certain that's the driving reason behind why he's opposed to the Civil Rights Act (he claims the anti-segregation clause infringes on individual freedoms because it's government-sanctioned integration. It sounds reasonable until you realize other social forces outside the state can infringe on liberties). 

You can see, then, how taking a certain concept too far can distort critical thinking (especially if the concept in question precludes it in its configuration). This is precisely where Rand fails in her assessment of individual rights. That’s a minor criticism of Rand, too. I haven't even begun to cover the problem of capitalist property rights, which I won’t expand on for sake of brevity. That's a topic for another time. 

Footnotes

Jonathan Chait. “How Ron Paul’s Libertarian Principles Support Racism”.

http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2012/01/how-ron-pauls-libertarianism-supports-racism.html

January 2, 2012. New York Magazine. Retrieved May 23, 2012.

Commentary on the Discussion of Truth Value

There was a recent discussion on truth-value and the meaning conferred to it within a particular sphere of experience. It was sparked by the author's musings on the ontological value of truth. I should note that the original post was published on August 15, 2008 but the discussion dates from February 14, 2012 at the earliest.

From Atheism Analyzed:

If free-will is axiomatic, then rights as such cannot be axiomatic because any assumed right encroaches upon the freedom of another. As far as I can tell, rights are a legal fiction which act as a substitute for a genuine ethics.

The author of the original post submits the following definition for 'axiom':
           
              axiom (n)

(1) a self-evident truth or a proposition whose truth is so evident at first sight no process of reasoning or demonstration can make it plainer; the whole is greater than a part.

(2) an established principle in some art or science; a principle received without new proof.

(3) a statement universally accepted as true; a maxim.

Webster's Deluxe Unabridged Dictionary, Second Edition 1979, Simon & Schuster. 

This definition sounds similar to that of a truism from our previous discussion on secularism; mainly, it's a self-evident truth. Whereas in philosophy a truism relies on incomplete conditions to assess its truth value, an axiom cannot be proven within the system following particular rules of inference based on it. One proposition remains true irrespective of its context and the other is true by virtue of the context it remains in.

Looking back at the comment, it appears to be a fair-minded statement of fact, for the most part. The notion of a legal right implies the compulsion to deliver a particular service or protection. Compulsion is the negation of individual autonomy. Thus, the guarantee of a legal right necessarily implies the restriction of individual liberty since one is expected to deliver a particular service without his consent.

I am not sure what to think of the following comment:

Rights [...] act as a substitute for genuine ethics.

Legal protections are indeed a fiction, but how do they necessarily 'substitute' for 'genuine' ethics? I suppose the designation of 'genuine' refers to ethical approaches that retain practical meaning when removed from the subjectivity that dominates an enclosed sphere of experience. True ethics cannot attach itself to an impermanent actor if it wishes be applied meaningfully. The issuance of rights does not address the cause behind such transgression that necessitates protection against undue force.

It only addresses the symptoms of such a problem. Ethics is concerned with addressing the problem directly in different terms of scope, be it applied, normative or meta-ethics and consequently many positions are available for one to take in this vein. Then I suppose 'substitute' refers to the displacement of individual autonomy and ethical practice with State action in its own interests not compatible with any ethical doctrine. Perhaps I'm missing something important or I'm reading too deeply into it. Like I said, I'm not sure how to interpret the rest of this comment.

This person illustrates well the absurdities of the system in which we live. He submits to us the example of using play money to purchase goods and services in the game Monopoly. He rightly notes that the sentence 'Play money has purchasing power' is true of the sphere of experience that the game of Monopoly is confined to. Play money has value insofar as the players treat it as having such throughout the game. Likewise, real money has ostensible purchasing power insofar as there's a strong commitment to participating in a system wherein that purchasing power is valued. There is logically no distinction between how we treat either the dollar or the play money except that the former has a far greater reach and is consequently far more relevant to our lives.

Why does it have a far greater reach? Because we forget that the players abiding by the system extend 'faith and credit' to give an otherwise worthless piece of paper some utility in facilitating the flow of transactions. It is pretend money, we just forget it to be because we take it so seriously. In concluding his post, the commentator submits two final examples of 'truth':

Both of the following are true:

"Monopoly money will buy you Monopoly property."

"A dollar will buy you a pack of gum."

He goes on to state that if we were to divorce these propositions from the contexts which delineate them, and replace them into an absolute context, there would be no difference between the two propositions ontologically as both are meaningless in actuality. He rightly notes that it's the fictions that humans breathe life into that in turn gives these propositions some meaning that reflects what humans see as having utility.

He ends his post with this statement: "All human institutions are equally fictional [...] both of your axioms are true (in [their] relative [context]), but depending on the meaning of the word "life", they may or may not exist within exclusive illusions or fictions."

He truly has a way with words that I would struggle to express myself with the same degree of clarity. I have held these beliefs for some time but have never seen them expressed so eloquently as I have seen him done here. I agree with nearly every point expressed in that commentary.

Not to detract from the original purpose of this post, which is how one is supposed to approach the assessment of a proposition's truth-value, of which I now hope you have a clearer picture of in light of this commentary. Here's a riddle to juggle about in your mind: What is the truth-value of an illusion, if all human institutions which confer some sort of value to something, are ultimately fictional?