You have two Chows

Today, I want to look at an issue on which I think libertarian ideas, as they’re often put forward today, are a bit simplistic and weak. I refer to “intellectual property.” But I’ll begin with some scenarios involving real (or not so real) property.

First, an old chestnut. You have two cows. A thief comes and steals one of them.

You’ve lost your cow. But it’s worse. You’ve lost her milk, too. You also lost your future chances of milk from her heifers, or meat from her bullocks. You haven’t just lost property; you’ve also lost the utility, which you could have derived from that property. You deserve recompense from the perpetrator. Don’t you?

Any half way sane justice system will answer “yes” to this. And the compensation should be well more than the value of the property taken. In Roman times, twice the value of the property was considered a norm.

But on what ground is this idea of “property” based? John Locke traced it to the labour expended when someone removes something “out of the state that Nature has provided and left it in.” And he opined that “of the products of the earth useful to the life of man, nine-tenths are the effects of labour.” Or, perhaps, more. Thus, the right to property arises out of the time and effort spent in “mixing your labour” with it. That is, in appropriating it, in improving it, in breeding and herding it, or in earning it by providing goods or services which others are voluntarily willing to buy. As I like to put it, property is life.

So far, so easy. Now I’ll change the metaphor.

You have two Chows – the Chow being the currency issued by your local god emperor. One Chow, let’s say, is enough to keep you, in the style to which you are accustomed, for one week. Your two Chows will allow you to live for two weeks before you need to exert any more of your labour. You don’t need that right now, but you might in future. So you hide them under your bed.

Now a forger comes along. This forger doubles the number of Chows in existence, but creates no new wealth to offset this. So, once the effects have worked themselves through the economy, each Chow is worth only half what it was before.

You still have your two Chows; you haven’t said ciao to either of them. But now you only have one week’s worth of leisure stashed under your bed, not two. You have lost half of the utility of your two Chows. Have you, then, suffered a loss of property, or not? And if so, does the forger owe you compensation for the loss, or not?

The labour that you expended to earn your two Chows is in the past. It hasn’t changed. So, if property rights arise from labour as John Locke tells us, then you have suffered a loss of property, amounting to half of the work that you did to earn them. If the forgery was unofficial, as in a Ponzi scheme, then you might eventually get some small amount of compensation. But if, as is more likely, the forgery was sanctioned by your local god emperor and carried out by his minions, you’ve been Choused.

Obviously, this property idea is more complicated than we thought.

Onwards. Now suppose you have, not two cows or two Chows, but two Dows. That is, share certificates in the Dow (and Jones) Horse Drawn Carriage Company. It’s around 1900, and Dow’s have been trading successfully for 50 years or so. Some German and French madmen have demonstrated “horseless carriages,” but they’ll never catch on. At least, that’s what Dow’s directors think.

You hide these certificates under your bed. A little while later, you are appalled to find that the share price has halved since those palmy days. Dow’s is failing to adapt to the changing market as, for example, Studebaker’s did.

Have you lost property? Some say no; for you still have your certificates. Others say yes; because when you sell the shares you’ll get (if you’re lucky) only half the Chows you paid for them in the first place. You went Dowsing for profit, but you’ve been Doused by the market.

I myself agree with the latter. At the least, you’ve lost some utility. So, do you have a right to claim compensation from Dow’s or their directors?

You may recall a Roman maxim: caveat emptor. Buyer, beware. That, I think, applies in this situation. As a shareholder, if you thought Dow’s was falling behind the market, you should have gone to their AGM and raised a stink. If you didn’t get satisfactory answers, you should have sold your shares – before the drop. Unless there’s been skulduggery, you don’t have any claim against anyone from Dow’s.

Now, to intellectual property at last.

You have two Wows. You’ve composed two songs. You think they’re the best things since sliced bacon. You spent decades educating yourself to become a songwriter, and weeks creating these two songs. You release one, and it starts to sell well. Then someone takes a copy of what you sold them, and starts to sell your song, taking away most of your potential new customers.

Have you lost any of your property? Some say no. You still have the original recording, after all. But you’ve lost the ability to sell your song, and so its utility to you. Through someone else’s willed action, you’ve lost access to the market for one of your Wows. Is that OK?

Some wowsers who call themselves libertarians say there’s no such thing as intellectual property. I disagree. Indeed, to me the case for rights in intellectual property seems, perhaps, even a little stronger than for rights in physical property. For, as the producer of intellectual property, you haven’t just mixed your labour with that property. You’ve gone much, much further; you’ve actually created it. How, then, can it be anything but your property?

Another argument for copyright is that, when you sell something, you have a right to set reasonable conditions on how it may be used. This is so with physical property, too. For example, when you sell a flat in a block, the buyer must agree to certain conditions for the benefit of all the occupants; such as, “don’t take out load bearing walls.” Is it not reasonable, then, for you to impose on the buyers of your Wows a condition that they refrain from doing things with them, which adversely affect your own right to sell them to others?

Lastly, you have two Hows. You’ve put lots of effort into some researches. So, you’ve found what you believe are novel products, or new ways of How to make existing products. You want to exploit this, by providing them for profit. To protect your investment, you go to minions of your local god emperor and ask for a patent – in effect, for a temporary monopoly on the sale of your new product, or of goods made using your novel procedure. Is this OK? Or not?

After reflection, I now see that the patent issue resolves the opposite way from the copyright one. Copyright is a defensive measure. It does no more than prohibit taking away the author’s right of access to the market. A patent, on the other hand, aggressively takes away others’ rights of market access. And this is so even for those who develop a similar product or process independently. Further, the mere existence of a patent in an area can be a disincentive to innovation in that area. Thus I have come to see that copyright is valid (unless misused), but patents are invalid.

Why have I bothered to write this? Because I’m trying to move away from the idea, believed by far too many, that “what the state says is legal is the same as what is right.” Instead, I want to encourage people to use their common sense and logic (their Nous!) to re-visit, from first principles, questions such as whether or not the idea of intellectual property is a valid one.

2016 and the future: A radical reply to Robert Henderson

First, let me record my appreciation of Robert’s essay “2016 and the future.” (At https://livinginamadhouse.wordpress.com/2016/12/17/2016-and-the-future/). While we have very different world views (I’m an individualist, Robert is a nationalist) I often find that we agree, in large part, on conclusions. But that isn’t the case here; so, I feel impelled to respond.

Robert starts by saying, “The grip of the Western globalists is slipping.” Yes, indeed. But I’m inclined to say that the grip that is slipping is their grip on themselves. And it isn’t just globalists. Even the local mafiosi increasingly treat us human beings as lower even than farm animals. They try any excuse to steal more and more from us in taxes. They continually tighten restrictions on our lives, both personal and business – often, it seems, just for the sake of it. And they show an arrogance, and a disdain for us, that astounds.

Robert goes on to talk of censorship and suppression of dissent. Again, yes indeed. Put together surveillance laws and the recent “fake news” meme, and it becomes plain that our enemies want to make telling the truth into anathema.

As to Trump, the establishment look as if they’re seeking a bridge contract of “One No Trumps.” But though he’s a politician, I’m not certain he’s all bad. Let’s see how he gets on.

As to Brexit, the Leave vote brought together some very unlikely bedfellows. Nationalist conservatives, old style Labourites, and even radicals like me. There wasn’t – and can’t be – any “united front.” The best we freedom lovers can do is promote a broad church, in which we agree on certain fundamental principles, like “don’t get in each other’s way.” But otherwise, we just get on with our own lives.

But Robert is spot on when he discusses the likely results of that vote. To paraphrase him: There may be “Brexit,” but there will be no Brexit. Until the EU collapses, of course.

To immigration. This is an area in which I fundamentally disagree with Robert. For me, the only valid borders are the borders of rightly held property. To allow a state to have borders, therefore, is to concede that it owns everything inside those borders; including you and me. That said, the mafiosi’s encouragement of mass migration goes several bridges too far. Particularly since the main motivation seems to be to preserve their unsustainable, debilitating welfare system.

On to robots. I thank Robert for raising this issue. There are both positives and negatives from such technology. Positively, it could create a more leisured world, in which robots do routine things, and we humans are freed to be creative. Negatively, as Robert says, it could make many people redundant. As a technologist myself, I’m very much in favour of the robot idea. But its effects, positive or negative, are a matter of “politics.” Who gets the benefits? Those who developed the technology? Their managers? A political class and their cronies? “Everyone?”

I do question one thing Robert said, that “the ideology of laissez faire… is at odds with human nature.” If I can interpret his meaning, he is following his use, earlier in the essay, of “laissez faire” to mean crony capitalism. I’d call that more like laissons faire – “we, the élite, can do what we want, but you the plebs have no rights at all.” I hope Robert can clarify this point.

As to his view on Russia, I couldn’t agree more, within present-day parameters. But I look forward to a world in which we talk, not about Russia or China, but about Russian persons and people who were born in China.

For me, the state is the problem. And it’s a world wide problem. It falls to us, to people like Robert and me – in our different ways – to disinfect people’s minds from politics, and to make people understand that politicians and their hangers-on are criminals.

Rivers

By the Darn-Poor Rhymer

The X, the Y, the U, the D,
They all flow down towards the C.

The A1 and the 7 greet,
As at a confluence they meet.

The River Eden is in 5;
There, Adam had 6 with his wife.

Old Father Thames we should not hate;
He turns a bend at Chiswick 8.

I’ve 1 more river. It’s the Ts,
And it goes nowhere near St. Bs.

Such talk is Irk-some? And 2ché?
Good 0 from the 4shore of the Wey.

Cambridge blues

As an alumnus of Cambridge university, three times a year I receive a copy of a large, glossy (ish) magazine called CAM. This rag is produced on behalf of the university, and mailed for free to its former students. While I often gag at what I read in it, I do find it useful as a kind of barometer of what the academic auxiliaries of the British ruling élite are thinking.

Two issues ago, there was in CAM an article so egregious, that I was impelled to write an April 1st spoof of it. The original article is on page number 13 of the PDF here [1], and my version is here [2]. The writer, a professor called Theresa Marteau, displays an amazing disregard for human beings and for our right to decide the course of our own lives. She seems to think she has some divine right to plan and to carry out experiments in social engineering on those around her.

Last week, the latest of these massive missives plopped through my letter box. CAM issue 79 (available on line via [3]) doesn’t, to be fair, include anything quite as arrant as Ms Marteau’s offering. But four of the articles in it have a whiff, at least, of a flavour that makes me want to hold my nose and shut my mouth.

I’ll begin with the package. It was big and bulky. (How strange that a university that claims as a core value “concern for sustainability and the relationship with the environment, [4]” sends out hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of these large items of junk mail each year).

When I opened it up, a bunch of inserts fell out. At least there were only four of them this time. Two were ads for high ticket items; exclusive, expensive and exotic holidays, and private medical insurance. The other two were begging letters. One, daubed with large swathes of red, was about some clever device supposedly to help poor people in Bangladesh. The other, more soberly presented in an envelope, had something to do with Christmas. All four went straight in the bin, the last unopened.

Then to the content of the rag. The first of the four malodorous manifestos was on page 13. The article is about Brexit, by the outgoing vice chancellor, Sir Leszek Borysiewicz. It perfectly exemplifies the view of the British ruling class on the issue – that Brexit is a disaster, and that what they need and want is more and more political action. (Or even better, to stop it).

The article also makes the ridiculous statement that “our commitment to Europe... is a commitment to a shared cultural and intellectual heritage.” Eh? The commitment of Remainers is to the EU, not to Europe. (How can you commit to a continent?) But the EU has only existed since 1993. It has no cultural or intellectual heritage; it’s simply an artificial, bureaucratic political device. And the European project, leading towards ever closer political union, was mis-sold in the 1970s to the people of the UK. We were led to believe that the project was purely about free trade within the European Economic Community. That was a lie, and the politicians knew it. No wonder so many people who remember the 1970s, including me, voted Leave.

And the following is almost as ridiculous. “When the communities we serve no longer believe that we have their interests at heart, it is our responsibility to engage and communicate to them.” Paraphrased: “When people no longer listen to you, SHOUT LOUDER.” That’s an attitude typical of the ruling class, showing as it does scorn for the “little people” and what we think.

I do, however, sympathize with Sir Leszek on immigration. Schengen is one of only two good things to have come out of the European project (the other being the European Court of Human Rights). However, we have never enjoyed its benefits when travelling into or out of the UK. So he should hardly be surprised if a lot of UK residents aren’t too worried about giving it up.

On to the second article, beginning on page 14: “Welcome to the space of possible minds.” Every so often, we see an article of this kind in establishment publications. It purports to educate and illuminate us; but in fact, its subtext is to cast aspersions against human beings, and to make us feel less confident in ourselves. This article, to give the writer her due, is subtly done. It doesn’t actually say that humans are no better than chimpanzees or other animals; but there’s a constant undertone of suggestion in that direction. This, again, is an attitude common among the ruling class. It’s almost as if they think that they’re a separate, and superior, species from us.

The third article, “What a Hypocrite!” (page 26) is by Matthew Parris, political journalist, broadcaster and former Tory MP. His argument, as far as I can work it out, is that because David Hume may have suffered from mood swings, hypocrisy (that is, practising otherwise than you preach) is OK. My response is to mis-quote Bill Vaughan: To err is Humean, but to really foul things up requires politicians and political commentators.

I suppose that the kind of hypocrisy, in which individuals fail to follow through on prescriptions they make for themselves, can be seen as innocuous enough. As long as no-one else suffers harm as a result, of course. But most hypocrisy we see today is of a different, and far more dangerous, kind. Such hypocrites promote or support damaging political policies to be enforced on others, yet themselves fail to obey the very rules they want to impose.

As example, I give you those that make out that we should drive and fly less in order to cut carbon dioxide emissions and so prevent catastrophic “global warming,” yet also fly around the world to climate conferences – often at taxpayers’ expense – and are chauffeured around in limos when they get there. But their accusation that “human carbon dioxide emissions will cause catastrophe” is both unproven, and almost certainly false. And yet, they seek to suppress the voices of those who deny their cant.

My diagnosis of hypocrites of this type is two-fold. Firstly, they have absolutely no respect or concern for human beings. For them, the Great Cause du jour is what matters, be it Europe, the Environment, Society, Equality (however interpreted), Fighting ISIS, National Security, Health, Safety or whatever else. Human beings, and the human individual in particular, do not matter to them at all. What happens to us is merely collateral damage. This is particularly strong among those that subscribe to leftist or collectivist politics; but the right are hardly innocent, either.

Secondly, they seek to evade accountability for the effects on others of their actions – a trait of which the great majority of politicians in the world are guilty. But further, they don’t even see the problem. They seem to have no sense at all of personal responsibility. Hypocrites, in my view, are the lowest of the low. No human being should feel anything but loathing for them.

The fourth article, starting on page 36, is about political “summit meetings.” It seems infused with a respect, even a love, for the current world political system, which I don’t and can’t share. And it fails to ask any of the important questions. Like, why do we still suffer under states and sovereignties, that are essentially relics of the politics of 16th-century France? Why do we human beings permit mass murderers like Mao, Stalin, Hitler and Pol Pot to get even anywhere near positions of power? Why does the sham called democracy – which itself is based on a flawed 18th-century notion that a population, however large and diverse, has a “general will” – not only fail to empower us individual human beings, but instead empowers a ruling class that behave towards us with hatred and contempt?

No doubt, there are good things going on at Cambridge, even today. (There certainly were during my time there.) Deep inside the biology labs, or in dark corners of the computer lab or the physics department, people are surely still doing things, which are actually or potentially of benefit to humanity. In arts subjects too, there may be good work being done; objective historical studies, for example. But the message that comes over from CAM is that the public face, at least, of the university has been taken over by acolytes of the ruling class.

And it’s actually worse than that. For consider the attitudes and characteristics of behaviour, which these articles in CAM show as typical among those that currently project the university’s image. They think that they’re superior to us human beings. Even if they don’t use deceit and dishonesty themselves, they accept them in others such as politicians. They show, like Professor Marteau, scorn for human beings rather than concern or empathy. And they see hypocrisy and evasion of responsibility as OK or even normal.

These are not the behaviours of honest human beings. They are certainly not the behaviours of those best qualified to direct the intellectual endeavours of some of the world’s finest minds. No; these are the behaviours of bootlickers of a corrupt and psychopathic ruling élite.

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[1] https://www.alumni.cam.ac.uk/sites/www.alumni.cam.ac.uk/files/documents/cam77.pdf

[2] http://www.honestcommonsense.co.uk/2016/04/the-force-is-behind-you-politicos.html

[3] https://www.alumni.cam.ac.uk/magazine/cam-79

[4] http://www.environment.admin.cam.ac.uk/environmental-sustainability-vision-policy-and-strategy

Conviviality

Introduction

About ten years ago, the Belgian philosopher of law Frank van Dun published a paper entitled “Concepts of Order.” In that paper he gives, among much else, an account of what he calls the convivial order. In this order, “people live together regardless of their membership, status, position, role or function in any, let alone the same, society.” It appeared in a book “Ordered Anarchy: Jasay and His Surroundings,” published in 2007 as a tribute to Anthony de Jasay. It has been preserved on the Internet on Anthony Flood’s website here [1].

Around the same time, the German-American libertarian philosopher Hans-Hermann Hoppe published a paper, “The Idea of a Private Law Society” [2]. That paper outlines some of the institutions, which might maintain order and justice in societies without political states.

Recently, I re-read Frank van Dun’s work in this area, and I find it seminal. I was surprised and rather disappointed to find no evidence of anyone having tried to build on his framework in the intervening decade or so. So today, I’ll try to build on the theoretical ideas of Frank van Dun and the practical suggestions of Hans-Hermann Hoppe. I’m going to sketch a picture of how people might be able to live together, and resolve their disputes, without a state or a “sovereign.”

Frank van Dun’s ideas

I’ll give, first, a brief summary of Frank van Dun’s paper and the message I took home from it.

In the first part of the paper, he considers the causes of, and potential cures for, interpersonal conflict. He identifies four strategies for minimizing such conflict. Two of these, Unity and Consensus, he labels as political strategies. The others, Abundance and Property, are economic.

There’s much that can be said about these strategies. In particular, it’s questionable which of them, or what combinations of them, can be effective in the long run. However, van Dun favours the Property approach, on the grounds that it is the least demanding. He observes that “the property-solution appears to require no more than an adequate organization of self-defence.” And he says: “In so far as people respect each other’s property, there is order and justice; in so far as they do not respect it, there is disorder and injustice. Indeed, justice is respect for the natural order, i.e. the natural law, of the human world. Thus, justice requires human persons not only to respect other human persons but also their rights to the extent that these do not upset the natural law nor result from an infringement of it.”

In the second part of the paper, he introduces the convivial order, which he equates to the classical liberal concept of natural law. Later, he relates it also to John Locke’s state of nature, which, Locke says, is “a state of perfect freedom to order their actions, and dispose of their possessions and persons, as they think fit, within the bounds of the law of nature. [3]”

Frank van Dun uses the word convivial in its literal meaning from the Latin, living together (samenleving in Dutch), as opposed to forming a society (maatschappij). Happily, this word in English has also a secondary meaning, of feasting in good company. So, my take on his phrase convivial order is that it is an order, in which people live together well.

He calls dealings between people convivial if they “conform to the patterns (or laws) of friendly exchange among independent persons.” He says that the laws of conviviality “must be discovered; they need not be invented.” (I myself would go further, and say that they cannot be invented.)

He contrasts ius with lex, the justice of the convivial order with the enforcement of obedience that is characteristic of social or “legal” orders. And he says: “The ius-based order of conviviality is in its principles the same always and everywhere.” Further, he says: “The fact that some people are more prominent or influential than others does not entail any difference in their status under the laws of conviviality.” (Nor – in my view, at least – do race, gender, place of birth or residence, religion, sexual orientation and the like make any such difference. In the convivial order, people are to be judged only by what they do, not by who they are). Therefore, in the convivial order, all are morally equal. Or, as I’ve put it elsewhere: What is right for one to do, is right for another to do under similar circumstances, and vice versa.

He also says: “In a convivial order... people appear only as themselves, doing whatever they do under their own personal responsibility. There is nothing like a social responsibility in the convivial order.” I find this to be a key point. And it comes about, because the convivial order is more primitive (or primary) than social orders. Indeed, the convivial order can exist even prior to, or in the absence of, any lex-based societies.

He gives some examples of unconvivial behaviour: “physical intimidation and threats, lies and deliberately misleading utterances, and the like.” And he says: “One who engages in such things places himself outside the law... by failing to deal with another as a free and equal person.”

In the third part of the paper, he discusses the convivial order in relation to societies. At the outset, he says: “The convivial order requires no social organization.” He says: “Although societies can be formed and operated on principles that are compatible with the convivial order, social orders are not necessarily compatible with the convivial order.” And he says: “In justice, withholding the benefits of membership is the only proper way in which to enforce social rules and regulations. The ultimate sanction is expulsion...”

Hans-Hermann Hoppe’s ideas

Hans-Hermann Hoppe, too, begins with property. He gives a fairly standard libertarian defence of property. He traces the (only) just means of acquiring property, from the right to the fruits of one’s labours, through original appropriation, productivity and voluntary trade. (Though he doesn’t go as far as I do; for me, all justly acquired property represents part of someone’s life, that was used up in acquiring the property. And thus, property is life; and to take away justly earned property is to take a part of the life of the person who earned it.)

He then discusses a major error of classical liberalism, its acceptance of the necessity of a state. And he shows how the error has been compounded by the sham of “liberal” democracy.

He develops his idea of private law societies in several stages. First, a society without a political state, and in which there is only one set of laws; that is to say, private law. Second, freely financed and competing private protection agencies. Third, a society in which the state has been replaced by these private protection agencies. And fourth, a development of the third, in which in addition there are voluntary societies, each with its own code of law.

He goes on to outline some of the institutions likely to arise in private law societies. He identifies three such. One, insurance companies. Two, police and detective agencies. And three, independent, external arbitrators and arbitration agencies.

The convivial animal

From here on, the ideas in this essay, except where ascribed to either van Dun or Hoppe, are my own responsibility.

Long ago, Aristotle described Man as “a political animal.” What he meant was that humans naturally form communities at various levels, such as families, villages and cities. At the time he wrote, the most evolved type of community was the Greek city state or polis; hence the word “political.” This description has been the subject of much controversy.

Aristotle thought that the city state, perhaps because of its claims to self-sufficiency, was “prior by nature” to (or, in my wording, “more primitive than”) the households and individuals in it. I can’t agree with this. For me, the fundamental social group is the family. For the family is the smallest social unit, which can exist indefinitely. But the fundamental unit of society – that is to say, the primary and original unit, from which all societies are built – is, and can only be, the individual. I wonder why Aristotle didn’t ask himself questions like: Before the first city state, what was the unit of social organization? And: City states cannot exist without families and individuals, so how can the city state be prior by nature to the family or to the individual?

The city state in which Aristotle lived was the highest developed form of human society up to that time. But he seems to have been blinded by this into believing that the city state was the be all and end all of social organization. And so, for him, the state was more important than the household, the family or the individual. Only in a city state, he thought, could people live their lives to the full. And anyone, who was not part of a city state, was an outcast and an outlaw.

In thoughts such as these, he was probably following his teacher Plato. For Plato’s political schemes are noted for their elevation of the state above the individuals who inhabit it, and of the rulers (“guardians”) and their hangers-on (“auxiliaries”) above the rest of the people.

My take, however, is quite the opposite. In my view, Man is not a political animal, but a convivial animal. It’s in human nature to live together. Part of our nature is to build societies, indeed; but those societies are not “prior by nature” to the family or to the individual. For me, it is the convivial nature of human beings which enables us to build the societies, including families, households and (formerly) city states, which can help us live to the full. Societies are defined by the individuals who agree to form them, not individuals by the societies they live in.

And so, my aim today is to try to outline a structure of relations between people, which can enable convivial individuals to live, and to live well, in order and justice.

The laws of conviviality

Frank van Dun writes in his paper about the laws of conviviality, and gives some examples. But he doesn’t try to list them. To do so is a formidable task. But it’s a task I myself have already attempted, most fully in a paper titled “Rights and Obligations” [4].

My approach is as follows. For every valid or claimed “human right,” there is an ethical obligation, and vice versa. For example, a right not to have x done to you maps to the obligation, “Don’t do x.” Now take a list of generally accepted, or reasonably proposed, “human rights” and obligations. Remove the misguided “rights,” such as social security and “free” education, which can’t be implemented without violating the rights of others. Remove the putative obligations, which are no more than the customs of a particular society. Remove also those that apply only to those who have agreed to take on a particular responsibility, such as marriage. We are left with just the general rights and obligations, which are common to all human beings. Now convert those, which are expressed as rights, to the corresponding obligations. Et voilà, we have our list!

Of course, this is hard to do, and I can’t claim that my list is in any sense “right.” (It’s certainly incomplete). It might be better to convene a quorum of ten or a dozen convivial and ethically expert greybeards, and have them (us) agree on a detailed list of the laws of conviviality. But, broadly speaking, I’d expect that any such list would include elements like the following:

1. To be peaceful unless attacked. Not to commit, to promote or to support aggressions, physical or otherwise, against innocent people.
   

   
   

2. To respect others’ rights, such as life (in the sense of not being murdered), property, privacy and security of person.
   

   
   

3. To uphold a general presumption of freedom of action, absent any valid constraining factors.
   

   
   

4. To respect others’ freedoms, such as freedom of speech and association, freedom of movement (subject to others’ property rights, but without any “encirclement” that would prevent people from moving or from receiving visitors), freedom to marry (or not) and freedom from compulsion to belong to particular associations.
   

   
   

5. To accept responsibility for the consequences to others of your willed or irresponsible conduct.
   

   
   

6. To compensate those you unjustly harm.
   

   
   

7. If you have children, to accept responsibility for bringing them up and educating them.
   

   
   

8. To treat other convivial people in good faith, without lies, deceit, fearmongering or other dishonesty.
   

   
   

9. To strive to be independent, and not willingly to let yourself become a drain on others.
   

   
   

10. To strive to keep to your side of any contracts you voluntarily enter into.
    

Convivial, Unconvivial, Disconvivial

A convivial act is one in accord with the laws of conviviality. A person, who does only convivial acts, is a convivial person. (Or would be, if such a perfect individual existed).

An unconvivial act is one which breaks the laws of conviviality. However, an unconvivial act doesn’t necessarily make the person who does it into an unconvivial person. Firstly, because in our daily lives, we often do things that, strictly speaking, are unconvivial in some small way. But we do them, not because we want to harm anyone, but only because the costs to us of not doing them are far greater than the costs, to those affected by them, of us doing them. If we are to be convivial, however, we must be willing to allow others similar latitude in return. An example is: “I’ll accept a reasonable amount of noise from your ghetto-blaster, if you’ll accept a reasonable amount of exhaust from my car.” I call this convivial tolerance.

Some unconvivial acts, though, do have effects on others sizable enough to merit offsetting. In such situations, and in accord with common sense, convivial people should require the perpetrator to provide restitution or compensation to the victim, usually by means of a property or financial transfer. Once this has been done, and if the act was free of mind-states such as malice or irresponsibility beyond the bounds of reason, then the perpetrator can be re-admitted to the convivial order. I’ll give the name convivials (or convivial people) to those who, by and large, obey the laws of conviviality, and do not let themselves slip out of the convivial order.

However, persistently repeated harmful acts, and acts fuelled by malice or unreasonability, are worse than merely unconvivial. The word I’ll use for these acts is disconvivial. And by extension, I call those that perform disconvivial acts disconvivials.

In particular, those that seek to harm or inconvenience other people, or to violate their rights or restrict their freedoms, are disconvivials. As are those that lie, or try to deceive or to suppress the truth, about matters affecting others. Those that seek to create or to amplify problems for others. Those that promote or support aggressive wars, re-distributory taxes or other political policies that harm innocent people. And those that try to disclaim responsibility for damage they cause, or to set themselves above the laws of the convivial order. Including, I must say, most of today’s politicians, many state functionaries, many in the media and some big company bosses.

The convivial community

Convivial people do not constitute a society. They have no president or chairman, no officials and no goals as a group. However, they do form a community – as Frank van Dun describes it, “a categorization of people with some common property or relation.” And this community is bound together, convivial to fellow convivial, by the shared property of conviviality.

Disconvivials, on the other hand, are both a drain on, and a danger to, convivial people. They fail to behave as our fellow human beings. By their conduct, they show that they are not fit to associate with convivial people. And since the convivial order is more primitive than any social order, are we convivials not justified in shunning the disconvivials, and seeking to exclude them from our societies? And are we not justified in withdrawing from, and distancing ourselves as far as we can from, those societies in which disconvivials have control or significant power? Including pressure groups, political parties and states?

The guarded convivial order

The convivial order is vulnerable, as Frank van Dun says, to aggression and coercion. It’s also vulnerable to the misleading or browbeating of people through lies, deceit or fear. So, how might we seek to secure it?

Here’s my vision of what I call the guarded convivial order. In such an order, convivial individuals each do what they see as necessary to preserve the order. In the process, they construct a form of governance; but one which has no central point at which power can collect.

Is there a need for a legislative?

I start by assuming that our quorum of greybeards has already done its work, and done it well. That is to say, we have the laws of conviviality written down, clearly, succinctly and as completely as possible. They are freely available to the general public. And many convivial people know them, understand them, and agree that they are fair and just.

I can think of only two situations, in which changes or additions to the laws of conviviality might be necessary, and our greybeards might need to reconvene. First, if new knowledge becomes available, at the philosophical level, on the right ways for convivial people to behave towards each other. That’s very rare. And second, if new, unprecedented situations arise (for example, because of new technologies) which were not considered by the original quorum. Almost as rare.

So, there’s no reason for our greybeards to revise or extend their work on a regular basis. Otherwise put, the convivial order requires no legislative. Indeed, to avoid any temptation to invent new “laws,” the convivial order must not have a sitting legislative (or even a standing one). And it should be a long and complex process, requiring the consent of those affected, to make any change to the laws of conviviality.

The executive

The guarded convivial order must provide a way for individuals to bring those, whom they suspect of significant breaches of the laws of conviviality, to justice. Thus, it does require an executive in some form. And because in the convivial order everyone is morally equal, it follows that everyone has the right to bring suspected offenders to justice. In the guarded convivial order, everyone is part of the executive. This is hardly rocket science; for the idea of the “citizen’s arrest” goes back to Anglo-Saxon times. And, as John Locke put it [5]: “For in that state of perfect equality, where naturally there is no superiority or jurisdiction of one over another, what any may do in prosecution of that law, every one must needs have a right to do.”

Such a right requires, as is guaranteed by the laws of conviviality, that every convivial individual must have means of self defence. In fact, it requires more. Every convivial individual must have access to means to restrain any suspect or suspects of a breach of conviviality, even if physically stronger than himself, for a limited period and for the sole purpose of bringing them to justice. I won’t détour here on to the subject of guns. At the risk of sounding science-fictional, I’m thinking more along the lines of robots with the ability to physically restrain people without causing them any actual damage. And they might become even more effective if combined with a future system of personal transport.

Absent such fantasticalities, however, we are driven to more prosaic solutions. So, here enter the first of Hoppe’s institutions of private law societies: police. What a little old lady can’t do without a Smith and Wesson, a private police society may well be able to do by dint of training and teamwork. Those not confident in their own abilities as arresters can delegate the job to their chosen police society, in exchange for a fee or subscription. It’s important to note, though, that these are not state police. They have no moral privileges that our little old lady does not. They may not, within the laws of conviviality, do anything she may not do.

Associated with these are Hoppe’s detective agencies. Their function is – at various stages in the case, from initial arrest through to trial – to investigate the facts, and prepare objective summaries of one or both sides of the case, which can be put before an arbitrator. They may operate either on behalf of the victim or victims, or of the accused, or be sub-contracted by the arbitrator himself.

The judiciary

In the guarded convivial order, the roles of judges and magistrates in today’s legal systems are taken by Hoppe’s arbitration societies. In many ways, though, their jobs will be easier than those of today’s judges and magistrates. For, first, the laws of conviviality are simpler and clearer than the tangles of, mostly bad, “laws” made by generations of conniving politicians. And second, the judgement process, having no political aspect at all, will be far more objective than today.

In principle (and to a large extent in practice), any two arbitrators, given the same case, will arrive at the same conclusion. Furthermore, arbitrators must be required to publish their decisions, the factual statements on which they were based, and the reasoning that led to them; and to make these freely available to all. This enables their verdicts to be checked by independent third parties. And these third parties include what I call “quality reporters” [6] – the free and objective replacements for today’s muzzled, politicized and biased press and media.

Restitution and compensation

The primary function of the arbitrator is to determine, from the facts of the case, what if any restitution (and compensation too, if full restitution isn’t feasible or sufficient) is to be provided. In many cases, the arbitrator will order the perpetrator (or perpetrators) of a breach of conviviality to make a payment to the victim (or victims). The terms and conditions, under which the payment is to be made, are included in the judgement.

The arbitrator has no power to enforce the restitution or compensation he has ordered. So, it’s possible that the perpetrator may refuse to make the payment, or may default on it for other reasons. At this point, an institution Hoppe doesn’t mention comes into play: the bailiffs.

Here’s what the bailiffs do. First, they advance to the victim the compensation he is owed. And second, they take on the burden of recovering the debt. For this purpose, in addition to the compensation awarded and the arbitrator’s own costs, an insurance premium is added to the debt to cover the possibility of default. If they can’t recover the debt, they go back to an arbitrator – preferably, a different one – for further action.

From the point of view of a victim, there are two advantages to this. First, he receives the compensation he is owed as soon as is practically possible. And second, he need take no part in the process of recovering the debt. However, the victim must have the option to bypass this procedure. He can either collect the debt himself, or if he so wishes, forgo it.

Graduated ostracism

Libertarian theories of justice usually stop at (or before) this point. They do not take account of situations where the damage intended is far greater than the damage actually caused. (The example I like to use is the incompetent terrorist, who plants in a public place a bomb that fails to go off). They also fail to cope with situations, such as a perpetrator refusing to pay compensation ordered, which in today’s legal systems are dealt with through devices like “contempt of court.”

In such cases, common sense tells us that the perpetrators deserve harsher penalties than simply those dictated by restitution or compensation. Such acts are equivalent, in the convivial order, to crimes in today’s legal systems. Thus, in the guarded convivial order, there must be available some equivalent of a “criminal law” penalty. But how can we impose such a penalty in practice, given that everyone must have the right to impose it?

Fortunately, Frank van Dun already answered this question, when he said, of convivial justice: “The ultimate sanction is expulsion.” Now, the community of convivial people isn’t a society; it has no membership from which to expel anyone. But people as individuals can, if they wish, withhold the benefits of their conviviality from those that, in their considered opinion, don’t deserve it. And so, they can ostracize those that breach the convivial order. And the level of ostracism can vary, according to how many are willing to take part in it, and how strongly they feel about the matter.

I envisage that, if an arbitrator finds that further penalty is warranted beyond restitution and compensation, he can issue a “card” along with his judgement. Perhaps there might be a three-card system. A green card is a warning. It is a suggestion that convivial people might like to consider ostracizing the perpetrator. A yellow card goes further; it recommends that convivial people should ostracize the perpetrator, if they come across him. And a red card intimates that not only should convivial people withdraw all contact from the perpetrator, but they should consider also ostracizing those that associate with him.

Of course, there need to be safeguards. We can’t have people unlucky enough to look like Tony Blair being rejected by everyone just because Tony Blair has received a much deserved red card. So there needs to be, at least, biometric information published along with judgements, and people will need means to check whether an individual they meet is, or is not, subject to a card.

Furthermore, cards will have a time limit. They will be annulled after a period specified by the arbitrator, if the individual does not commit any more disconvivial acts in the meantime.

Protective custody

Some individuals are a danger to others if allowed to roam freely among them. To deal with this situation in the guarded convivial order, some form of protective custody is necessary.

Such custody, I think, can only be voluntary. To an individual clearly dangerous to others, the arbitrator could, I suggest, offer two options; a more serious card without custody, or a less serious card (or no card at all) with custody. I doubt that many, given the choice between a straight red card and a green card with a period of protective custody, would choose the red!

Importantly, this custody will not be punitive in any way; though, of course, the individual is required to pay for it. And in particular, it will not prevent the individual in custody from receiving visitors, and it will seek to avoid placing any restriction on his ability to earn. He probably has, after all, a debt to pay off.

Appeals

As Hoppe says, unfair or biased arbitrators would lose customers quickly. So much so, that I expect that arbitrators, like other businesses, will carry out extensive quality controls before publishing their judgements. However, if a bad judgement has been made, even sacking the judge doesn’t help the victim of that bad judgement. Thus, there must be an appeal procedure.

I expect that there will probably grow up a market of “re-arbitrators,” who review and carry out quality controls on cases already judged. They might work on behalf of the original victim, or the perpetrator, or – most likely – a third party such as an insurance company. If successful, they would be able to claim damages for their client against the original arbitrator.

In contrast to the state, there can be no “final court of appeal.” Instead, there will be a hard limit on the number of times any case could go to re-arbitration. I suggest it might be two.

Insurers

As in Hoppe’s vision, insurance companies will compete to provide protection services. I envisage them as a “one-stop shop” for police, detective work and access to arbitration, as well as insurance against no-fault accidents. And they agree in advance with other insurers how to choose which arbitrator is to judge disputes between their respective clients.

I envisage that these insurers will charge their clients by subscription, probably yearly or monthly. As with car insurers, the price will vary according to the size of the risk insured against, where the client lives, and his level of no-claim bonus. Most people will take out such subscriptions. Nevertheless, some highly independent people (self-insurers) may choose to do their own police or detective work or both. Or, perhaps, to go directly to arbitrators or re-arbitrators for their services.

Societies in the convivial order

In the convivial order, individuals may form or join societies as they wish. Flower arranging societies, musical ensembles, football clubs, boxing clubs, religious groups, business companies, lifestyle communes, insurance societies, arbitration societies, police societies and many more. As Frank van Dun points out, “it makes sense to personify societies and to regard them as artificial or conventional persons defined by their constitution and social decision-rules.” Membership of such societies is signified by a contract between the individual member and the society. And leaving a society is always possible, even if it may involve a pre-agreed forfeit.

Each of these societies has its own rules, which may sometimes vary from the laws of conviviality. And, as Hoppe suggests, these variations can give rise to competing codes of law.

For example, the Catholic Canon Law Society might have an additional rule, which prohibits its members from performing or undergoing abortions. And a boxing club might waive the responsibility of its members for injuries caused to other members during training or boxing matches, provided of course that specified safety precautions are taken. But there must be a general expectation that any such variations, adopted by particular societies, are kept to the minimum necessary.

Further, these variations only apply to dealings between members of the society. Dealings between individuals who aren’t co-members of any one society (or weren’t, at the time of the dealing) are to be governed entirely by the laws of conviviality.

In conclusion

The order I’ve sketched, which I call the guarded convivial order, bears in many of its institutions a strong resemblance to existing systems of law and justice. At least, when those systems are operated honestly. However, there are some major differences between the guarded convivial order and politicized legal systems.

1. The guarded convivial order has no state and no sovereign. There are no morally privileged individuals or classes, and there is no central point at which power can collect.
   

   
   

2. The laws of conviviality are simple and clear enough to be known, understood, and accepted as just and fair, by most if not all convivial people.
   

   
   

3. There is no legislative. To change the laws of conviviality is a long, complex and consensual process.
   

   
   

4. Judgements are as objective as possible. The main remedies are restitution and compensation.
   

   
   

5. Punishments for disconvivial (criminal) acts take the form of ostracism, with protective custody as a voluntary alternative where needed.
   

   
   

6. There is a simple appeal procedure, with no requirement for any ultimate “authority.”
   

   
   

7. Individual societies may have their own rules which, while they must be based on the laws of conviviality, may vary as required. But dealings with non-members must always be governed by the laws of conviviality alone.
   

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[1] http://www.anthonyflood.com/vandunconceptsoforder.htm

[2] https://mises.org/library/idea-private-law-society

[3] Second Treatise of Government, §4.

[4] https://thelibertarianalliance.com/2016/04/15/rights-and-obligations-2/

[5] Second Treatise of Government, §7.

[6] See section 19 in https://thelibertarianalliance.com/2015/07/12/a-blueprint-for-human-civilization/

What Hillary Clinton did after the election

By the Darn-Poor Rhymer

Hillary Elephant packed her trunk

And said goodbye to the caucus,

Off she slunk as the drums did thump,

Trump, Trump, Trump!

Book Review of “Against Democracy” by Jason Brennan

Recently, I heard interesting things about a new book “Against Democracy” by Jason Brennan. “A brash, well argued diatribe against the democratic system” and “Sure to cause howls of disagreement,” said one reviewer. “Reveals libertarianism’s bankrupt conscience,” said another. “Among the best works in political philosophy in recent memory,” said a third. I rarely review books; it’s a lot of effort, often for little gain. But in this case, I decided it might be worth my while to buy, read and comment on this book. And I wasn’t disappointed.

Jason Brennan is a professor in the School of Business at Georgetown University in Washington DC, a privately funded Catholic and Jesuit university. His background is in philosophy, and his primary interest is political philosophy. He also writes at Bleeding Heart Libertarians, a blog I read occasionally, and which is generally seen as being towards the left of the liberty movement.

So, what qualifications do I have to critique such a book? I’m not an academic; I earn my bread (and wine) as a software consultant. But I’m also a regular teacher of the ideas of liberty at Glenn Cripe’s Language of Liberty Institute camps. My degree, long ago, was in mathematics from Cambridge. In philosophy, I’m an educated amateur, not a professional. But I take the philosophy of liberty sufficiently seriously to have written and self published a book on the subject, called “Honest Common Sense.” And I do most of my blogging at the UK’s Libertarian Alliance, where I’m one of the less conservative authors.

Now I knew, before I started, that I would probably agree with most of what Jason Brennan would say about the shortcomings of democracy. In fact, I expected to find his views on that subject rather softer than my own. And what I found was, indeed, as I expected. He thinks democracy is an ugly pig; but his disrespect for it is far less vehement than my own.

Jason Brennan gives the name epistocracy, meaning the rule of the knowledgeable, to his range of proposed solutions to the ills of democracy. Basically, he thinks that the views of more informed, more rational people should carry greater weight than those of the less informed and the less rational. I confess that my instant reaction to this idea was to paraphrase it as, “We’re the experts; trust us.” I’ve been on this planet a few years now. And I’ve heard lines like that far too many times to be anything but extremely skeptical. So, it was always going to be a tough job for Jason Brennan to convince me of his claims. But that said, I’m open to persuasion by good and rational arguments. So, here we go...

First, a few stylistic plaudits for this book. It’s clearly written. Whenever Jason Brennan introduces a technical word – such as “semiotic” – he always takes the trouble to explain exactly what he means by it. And I like the way in which he presents, in an indented section of the text and worded very concisely, a list of options, points or arguments to be discussed, then follows them through in a logical sequence.

I rather liked the idea, near the beginning of the book, of classifying people into hobbits (uninterested in politics), hooligans (political fans and cheerleaders) and vulcans (rational, scientific thinkers about politics). But unfortunately, I find the classification incomplete. I myself, for one, don’t fall into any of the three categories. While I have many of the characteristics of a vulcan, my only interest in politics is in trying to work out how to get rid of it. A term I might use to describe the group I belong to is the alienated. And I suspect that we are a considerably greater fraction of the population than most pundits would attest. For example, the turn-out in the recent Brexit referendum, in which I did vote, was far higher than the usual turn-out in general elections, in which I refuse to vote for any of the parties. I think I'm not alone!

My first substantive disagreement with Jason Brennan’s thesis comes towards the end of chapter 2 (whose title is: “Ignorant, Irrational, Misinformed Nationalists”). He says (and in his note 79 gives references) that voters don’t vote selfishly, but for what they perceive to be in the national interest. (Or, I presume, some other group interest, if the election isn’t a national one). I find this hard to believe, because it doesn’t tally with my own experience.

In the UK, for example, we have a Labour party which, historically, has always been the party of trade union power. Trade unionists used to vote en bloc for it; and many of that persuasion still do. That, to me, is selfish voting. Another reason large numbers of people (including many of my friends) vote the way they do, is that they hate one of the major parties so much, that they will vote for whoever has the best chance of beating them. This is generally known as voting for “the lesser of two evils.” Back in the 1980s, I myself twice voted Conservative for just this reason, believing (naively) that I was doing so in self-defence against Labour.

Not being an expert in political psychology, I can’t say categorically that Jason Brennan is wrong on this point. But my bullshit meter is triggered. I noticed, for example, that many of the papers cited were published before 2000, so would not take any account of the increased polarization of politics since then. I also wonder what methodologies were used to solicit the reasons why people voted as they did. If they were asked directly, for example, I wouldn’t expect the results to be valid; for how many people would be willing to supply an answer that could give others cause to think of them as selfish and unpatriotic?

Chapter 3, “Political Participation Corrupts,” is very good. And Chapter 4, “Politics Doesn’t Empower You or Me,” begins even better. The demolition of the consent argument had me chuckling; in places, it reminded me of John Locke’s First Treatise of Government. And soon after, I came to a key point. While democracy may (or may not?) empower us as a collective, it doesn’t empower us as individuals. Indeed, Jason Brennan says that democracy “is intended to disempower all the individuals in favor of large groups or collections of individuals.” In darts terms, that hits the very centre of the bull. But as I read on, I found this chapter becoming increasingly hard work.

In Chapter 5, “Politics Is Not a Poem,” I found myself disagreeing with the idea that equal voting rights don’t (or shouldn’t) have any value to those who enjoy them. I agree with Jason Brennan that the right to vote is all but worthless in objective terms. But he seems to neglect the fact that individuals make their value judgments subjectively. As the proverb goes, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” So, this chapter left me somewhat underwhelmed.

But it was in Chapter 6, “The Right to Competent Government,” that my alarm bells really started ringing. We have a right to “competent” government. That sounds fair enough. But what is “competent?” The dictionary says “having requisite or adequate ability or qualities.” In essence, competence is fitness for purpose. But fitness for what purpose? To produce just outcomes, seems to be Jason Brennan’s answer. But just (sic) what does “just” mean?

I’ll park that for now, and turn to the other side of the coin, the idea that political decisions must be made “in good faith.” Again, this sounds fair enough. The dictionary defines good faith as “honesty or lawfulness of purpose.” I think I know what honesty means; but “lawfulness?” If a political government makes a law – such as apartheid, or Prohibition – does that necessarily mean it was made in good faith? I think not. Indeed, I contend that most things done by political governments today, democracies included, are done in bad faith. Re-distribution of wealth from the productive to the lazy? Using non-existent “weapons of mass destruction” as an excuse to invade Iraq? Spying on us with cameras, and intercepting our e-mails? Bad faith, all of them.

And there’s an egregious example of bad faith, which Jason Brennan touches on, but fails to spear as he should have done. This is where he talks about “carbon emissions.” That he devotes the following paragraph to energy use, suggests to me that he is actually talking not about carbon emissions, but about carbon dioxide emissions. (School chemistry: at room temperature, carbon is a solid; carbon dioxide is a gas. Any vulcan should know the difference.)

Now, carbon emissions which find their way into the air – such as soot – can, indeed, be a real environmental problem. But carbon dioxide, despite what many politicians and politicized “experts” say, isn’t a pollutant. In fact, it’s essential for plants to survive; and the more of it there is in the atmosphere, up to several times greater than the amount that’s there today, the more the plants will thrive.

An accusation against carbon dioxide, which might carry some weight if true, is that human emissions of it (from using fossil fuels) might cause dangerous, even catastrophic “global warming.” But this accusation, while supposedly “scientific,” is actually purely political. Bad “science” that supports it, and scares about its bad effects, are hyped in the media. While science that contradicts it, and independent, objective cost-benefit assessments on the issue, are suppressed or ignored. Further, the precautionary principle has been subverted, and the burden of proof has been inverted. And those who, like me, have looked objectively at the evidence and found the accusation wanting, are called nasty names like “flat earthers” and “deniers.”

To those who study such things, it’s clear that the political establishment planned today’s green policies – such as cutting use of fossil fuels, and forcing us out of our cars – decades ago. And that scientific truth or falsehood, and what we the people think or want, are of no importance to them. Google “Our Common Future” if you don’t believe me. Bad faith, bad faith, bad faith.

It’s unfortunate for Jason Brennan’s case for epistocracy that he unwittingly shows here how hard it is to be an epistocrat, or even a vulcan. Not only does such an individual need to be expert in political philosophy, ethics, law and social sciences. But he also needs to know about history, psychology, economics, chemistry, physics, engineering, farming and all the other branches of knowledge he might need in his duties. (Not to mention vulcanology). And he needs to be absolutely honest and scrupulous. In short, he needs all the characteristics of a philosopher king. But, as Aristotle told us, such individuals do not and cannot exist.

A little later, Jason Brennan appears to cop out in a big way, when he says: “It’s not clear I need to defend a precise theory of political competence.” But to make his case for epistocracy, it’s absolutely necessary for him to explicate such a theory. For his arguments for epistocracy are instrumental, not procedural. So, if epistocracy is ever to be adopted on a large scale, it must first be trialled; a suggestion he does indeed make in a later chapter. And how should we judge the results of those trials? By measuring how competent epistocratic government is, compared with democratic; how just its outcomes are, and how good the faith in which they are made. But you can’t measure something if you can’t define it precisely. And you can’t persuade others that your system is better than theirs, unless you can agree on how to measure the two against each other.

Chapter 7 is entitled “Is democracy competent?” Jason Brennan answers “No,” and I’m very much in agreement with him on this. But there’s one issue on which I disagree with him fundamentally. He says that the political parties choose candidates they believe will appeal to typical voters. He then uses this to blame the failings of politicians on the failings of the electorate. But I think this should be the other way around.

Recently, I was looking at a standard test used by psychiatrists to detect psychopathic tendencies. I asked the question, how well (or badly) would the typical politician score on this test? What I found supported the idea that politicians will tend to score much higher on the test – that is, they are much more likely to have psychopathic tendencies – than members of the general population.

For example, they are more likely than ordinary people to be superficially charming, arrogant, foolhardy (particularly with others’ resources), lying, insincere, selfish or manipulative. And they are more likely to try to deny accountability for their actions, and to lack remorse towards their victims. This, I think, can help to explain why so many politicians do so much of what they do in bad faith. In a nutshell, power attracts psychopaths. Jason Brennan shows he is aware of this problem, when early in the book he says: “In the real world, if we imbued an office with the discretionary power of a philosopher king, that power would attract the wrong kind of people.”

The electorate, on the other hand, have been gradually corrupted over decades by the perverse incentives and ideas offered to them by the political system, particularly through welfare and through politicized education and media. Jason Brennan is right to say that the electorate as a whole aren’t what they ought to be. But in my view, it’s the political system that has corrupted the people, not the other way round.

And so to Chapter 8, “The Rule of the Knowers,” where Jason Brennan puts forward a range of proposals for how epistocratic government might work. One thing that surprised (and disappointed) me was that most of his proposals involve imposing restrictions on the electorate rather than restrictions on power seekers. If I were designing such a system, I would look to set it up so that the more power an individual wishes to exercise, the higher the bar they have to clear. Thus the level of qualification required to stand for office would be far higher than the level required to vote. And the level of qualification needed to become a president or prime minister would be far higher again than the level required to be a congressman or an MP.

To detail. Christiano’s values-only voting idea doesn’t pass Jason Brennan’s smell test; nor mine. As to suffrage restricted by exam qualification, I immediately see two major drawbacks (beyond the two which Jason Brennan mentions, ideological manipulation and cramming). One, it would be very expensive, requiring as it does the testing of everyone who wishes to vote. And two, it’s liable to spark conflict between the enfranchised and the disenfranchised. Plural voting, on the other hand, doesn’t address the first of these issues, and might be even worse on the second. Plural voting could easily lead to two wolves and ten chickens voting on what’s for dinner!

López-Guerra’s “enfranchisement lottery” seems to me both complicated and naive. He himself admits that it increases the risk of manipulation and agenda control; and that’s the very last thing we need. I suspect the same problem would apply to the “simulated oracle” proposal at the end of the chapter; in particular, there would be risks of hacking of the program or its database.

Epistocratic veto seems, at least at first sight, more promising. The electorate lose no perceived rights, and the politicians’ worst excesses are restrained. Unfortunately, Jason Brennan fails to mention that this particular proposal has already been tried; and it doesn’t work any more, if indeed it ever did. The institution in question is the UK’s House of Lords. Its denizens, originally, were aristocrats rather than epistocrats; but there’s not much difference there. And, prior to 1911, it had pretty much the veto power that Jason Brennan suggests. Today, though, the Lords has not only lost much of its erstwhile power, but it’s also packed full of party hacks and political appointees. Even fifty years ago, the Lords was still a bulwark for the people against bad government; but today, it’s almost as bad as the Commons, and in some ways worse.

Towards the end of the section on epistocratic veto, however, a far more radical and interesting idea appears. In this scheme, epistocratic screening is to be applied to all the winning candidates for offices. To avoid interminable re-runs, I think it would be better to do the screening before the election takes place, on all the candidates. Only those who pass the test may stand for office.

There’s still an issue to be addressed; the selection of panel members. In my view, merely being a vulcan, and having objective expertise in relevant areas, shouldn’t be enough to qualify for epistocratic power. We also need to apply ethical standards. And we need to apply strict quality control to prevent corruption. Jason Brennan doesn’t say anything about these aspects.

All that said, I really do like this idea of epistocratic screening. For, if done properly, it has the potential to stop the politicization of our lives right at source. Even better (as I’ve suggested elsewhere), we could include a psychopathy test as part of the screening process, and qualified psychiatrists on the screening panel. Then the panel could bar from office anyone with even the slightest trace of psychopathy, or at the least with a higher psychopathy test score than the median of the population as a whole. We could even apply the screening test retrospectively to existing office holders! Heh, heh.

Finally, I’ll make a couple more tongue half in cheek proposals along somewhat similar lines to Jason Brennan’s. (1) Create a “hooligan test” to identify political hooligans. Bar all hooligans, including current and past politicians, from voting, and from holding or standing for office. (2) Plural voting, with votes in proportion to the taxes each individual has paid minus the benefits he has received. (I call this the “shareholding model.”)

To sum up. This is a very thought provoking book, with many fine ideas and insights. But Jason Brennan doesn’t manage to convince me to give up my (objectively worthless) political rights to him and his vulcan colleagues. Nice try, my friend, but no cigar. Nevertheless, the book was worth far more to me than the purchase price and the time I spent to read it. And so, I thoroughly recommend Jason Brennan’s “Against Democracy” to all those looking for a better politics.