On the Precautionary Principle

Today, I’m going to look at a mantra much trumpeted by environmentalists; the precautionary principle. I’ll seek to make a case that, since the early 1980s, this idea has been perverted. To such an extent, that the principle now has an effect all but opposite to its true intention. I’ll trace how this happened, and try to outline how we might fix the resulting mess.

What is the precautionary principle?

The precautionary principle, even in its original, pre-1980s form, is an elusive beast. There’s no generally agreed wording of it. But its essence can be summarized as “better safe than sorry,” or “look before you leap.” Though some – myself included – go further, and see it as akin to the Hippocratic oath for doctors: “First, do no harm.”

In this form, the principle is very sensible advice. Before they put a new product on the market, for example, sane business people will test it thoroughly to check it has no bad side-effects. If they don’t do this, and something goes wrong, they will face lawsuits, and perhaps worse.

But some wish to take the principle further. Today, it’s often interpreted to mean that if there’s a risk of something bad happening, particularly to the environment or to human, animal or plant health, then action should, or even must, be taken to avoid or to minimize that risk. And on this excuse, policies have been made that have imposed huge costs on all of us.

Risk

On examination, this new form of the principle doesn’t fit well with our common-sense ideas of how to deal with risk. For in thinking about risk, we recognize two kinds: risk to ourselves, and risk to others. As far as risk to ourselves goes, each of us must make our own decisions. We do it all the time; just about everything in life involves some degree of risk. We judge, rationally or otherwise, whether a particular risk is justified for us. And we decide either to take the risk, or not. For example, every time we go in a plane, there’s a risk it may crash and kill us. We weigh this up, consciously or not, against the gain we expect from making the journey. We look, and then we leap; or not. And most of us come out with the same decision: We get in that plane.

Today’s version of the precautionary principle is worse than useless in assessing risk to ourselves. For it would have us either avoid risks altogether, or focus on minimizing them. But a life without taking risks is, at best, the life of a vegetable. And a life spent focusing on risks is a paranoid one.

Risk to others is a more difficult subject. Sometimes our actions may have negative impacts on others; on their property, on their health, even in extreme cases on their very lives. Now, all individuals are responsible for the consequences of their actions to others, unless those actions were coerced. And it may be that in a particular case the harm, which an action causes others, exceeds what reasonable people will bear in a spirit of mutual tolerance. In such cases, in a sane world, we should be required to compensate those we have harmed. In environmental terms, that’s the basis of the idea of “polluter pays” – one with which I heartily agree.

There are, therefore, good reasons to invest in minimizing risk to others. I gave already the example of a company putting a new product on the market. In making decisions on such risks, particularly if the damage caused may be great, it makes sense to assess the risks, and their consequences and costs if things go wrong, as objectively as possible.

Rationally, we will invest in minimizing such a risk as long as the likely gain from the reduction of risk exceeds the cost involved in reducing it. Beyond that point, we have only two options; we either go ahead and face the consequences, or we scrap the whole thing. If we tried to use the precautionary principle as often interpreted today, however, we would have to spend forever more and more to allay less and less likely, or less and less serious, risks.

Weak and strong precaution

In the original (weak) form of the precautionary principle, the burden of proof is always on the party wanting to make change. If one party wishes to stop or restrict an activity of another party on the grounds that it causes risk to them or to others, it’s up to the accuser to show that the risk is real and significant. It’s also up to the accuser to show that the change they propose is both necessary and beneficial. And the cost effectiveness of any such change must be taken into account. For it isn’t reasonable to expect anyone to spend more on reducing a risk, than the gain which results to those whose exposure to the risk is reduced.

However, many environmentalists, politicians and regulators favour a stronger form of the principle. In its strong form, it can be used to regulate or prohibit any action that has actual or perceived risks, even if those risks cannot, or cannot yet, be accurately quantified. Further, the burden of proof is inverted, so that the proponent of an activity must prove that it is harmless. And the costs of preventative action are not to be taken into consideration. Thus the strong form of the precautionary principle is, simply put, a power grab and a tool for tyranny. A long, long way from “First, do no harm.”

A history of corruption

The perversion of the precautionary principle into an excuse for tyranny began in the early 1980s. And it was the United Nations that did it. The World Charter for Nature, a 1982 UN resolution, included an extreme formulation of the precautionary principle. It stated: “Activities which might have an impact on nature shall be controlled,” and “where potential adverse effects are not fully understood, the activities should not proceed.” The Charter was passed by 111 votes to 1, with 18 abstentions. The USA was the only country voting against.

Fast forward a decade, to the Rio Declaration of 1992. Principle 15 states: “In order to protect the environment, the precautionary approach shall be widely applied by States according to their capabilities. Where there are threats of serious or irreversible damage, lack of full scientific certainty shall not be used as a reason for postponing cost-effective measures to prevent environmental degradation.”

At first sight, this looks like a walk back towards the weak form of the principle. But there’s a catch; and a big one. If you don’t have a high degree of scientific certainty about the size and the likelihood of a problem, how can you assess whether or not a proposed counter-measure is cost-effective? You might (or might not) be able to estimate the costs of the measure accurately; but without high scientific certainty, you can’t accurately estimate the benefits to compare them with! And so, sneakily, the activists bypassed the cost effectiveness condition that was supposed to be built into the principle. The world’s politicians bought it; and they sold us all down the Rio.

Then there was the much touted Wingspread Declaration of 1998. This came out of a conference of academics, politicians and activists, convened by an organization, only formed in 1994, called the Science and Environmental Health Network. Whose mission statement reads: “In service to communities, the Earth and future generations, the Science & Environmental Health Network forges Science, Ethics and Law into tools for Action.” An activist organization, no?

Here’s how they re-defined the principle: “When an activity raises threats of harm to human health or the environment, precautionary measures should be taken even if some cause and effect relationships are not fully established scientifically. In this context the proponent of an activity, rather than the public, should bear the burden of proof.” We’re back to the strong form, aren’t we? And worse. For when they talk of “the public,” they don’t mean us ordinary people. What they mean is that government shouldn’t have to bear the burden of proving its accusations; so we’re all guilty until proven innocent. Clever about-face, eh?

By 2002, the UK’s Inter-Departmental Liaison Group on Risk Assessment had perverted the principle still further. They saw its purpose as “to create an impetus to take a decision notwithstanding scientific uncertainty about the nature and extent of the risk.” And they wanted to invoke the principle “even if the likelihood of harm is remote.” They said, too, that “the precautionary principle carries a general presumption that the burden of proof shifts away from the regulator having to demonstrate potential for harm towards the hazard creator having to demonstrate an acceptable level of safety.” And they misused an aphorism attributed to Carl Sagan, saying: “‘Absence of evidence of risk’ should never be confused with, or taken as, ‘evidence of absence of risk’.” Bureaucrats seeking more power, no?

What does all this add up to? First, the activists have inverted the burden of proof, and require the defendants (that’s us, who want to do things like heat our homes and drive our cars) to prove a negative. Proving a negative is often impossible. How, for example, would you prove there are no fairies at the bottom of your garden? Second, they want the judge to rule, and to find us guilty, before all the evidence has been heard. And third, even if there’s no evidence at all that our activity causes any harm to anyone, they wouldn’t accept that fact as evidence! In essence they have decreed, in contradiction to the norm of presumption of innocence, that absence of evidence of guilt is not evidence of absence of guilt. We’ve been had, haven’t we?

Post-normal science

Beginning in about 1993, an idea called “post-normal science” started to take root in academe. This claimed to be a new way to use the outputs of science, in situations where standard methods of risk and cost-benefit analysis were insufficient. These situations were described as: “facts uncertain, values in dispute, stakes high and decisions urgent.”

But what post-normal science actually is, is a hard question to answer. It describes itself as a “problem solving strategy.” It seeks to replace the hard edged objectivity of properly done science with something much woollier, that it calls “quality.” It seeks the involvement in the decision process of “all those who wish to participate in the resolution of the issue.” And through its concept of “extended facts,” it allows ideas which are not facts to be treated in the debate on an equal basis with facts.

In my view, post-normal science merely provides a way for glib, persuasive activists to direct policy debates towards outcomes which suit their agendas, even when the facts do not support those outcomes. It’s little different, either in intent or in effects, from the perversion of the precautionary principle into an activist tool. It’s not a form of science, but of nonscience. And it has been used to blur and to obfuscate the interface between science and policy.

Here are my own thoughts on the situations post-normal “science” claims to address. If facts are uncertain, you must put more effort into clarifying them. If values are in dispute, that increases the need for the decision to be, and to be seen to be, absolutely objective. For if not, those on the losing side of the debate will have good cause to become resentful. If stakes are high, that increases how much you should be willing to spend on making the decision as objective as possible. And if decisions are urgent, you must use the precautionary principle – properly. Look before you leap. First, do no harm. Don’t do anything that damages innocent people.

How to fix the problem

In my view, those that have perverted the precautionary principle, and have tried to discredit science and to substitute it by nonscience, have acted in bad faith. To fix this, we first need to restore the precautionary principle in the public understanding to its proper meaning, of “Look before you leap,” or “First, do no harm.”

Second, we must seek to compensate those who have been unjustly harmed by bad policies made as a result of these perversions. If we accept the idea of “polluter pays” – and we should – then why should we not also accept the idea of “politicker pays?” Should we not hold those, that have acted in bad faith in support of those policies, responsible for the effects of what they did to us? Should we not require each of them to compensate us for their share of the bad things they did to us? And if any of them have committed offences such as perjury, should we not be seeking to prosecute them too?

To sum up

Over the last 35 years or so, the precautionary principle, “Look before you leap,” has been perverted out of all recognition. It no longer tallies with our common sense ideas of risk. At the instigation of the United Nations and other activist groups, the principle has been re-cast into a strong form, which inverts the burden of proof and has become a tool for tyranny. There has also been a movement to obfuscate the interface between science and policy. These perversions have helped politicians to make environmental policies that have harmed all of us.

On Science and Nonscience

Today, I’m going to write about science. This won’t be a technical paper. It won’t be full of numbers or equations. Instead, I’m going to look at science from the generalist point of view. I’m going to ask questions like: What is science? How useful is it to the making of decisions, including political ones? And, how can we tell good science from bad?

What is science?

According to Webster’s, science is: “knowledge or a system of knowledge covering general truths or the operation of general laws.” The way I see it, science is a method of discovering truths. For the idea to make any sense at all, though, we need first to agree that scientific truth is objective. Now, a particular truth or fact may of course be unknown, or poorly understood, or wrongly apprehended, at a particular time. But in science, one man’s truth must be the same as another’s.

Those of certain philosophical tendencies, such as postmodernism or cultural relativism, like to pooh-pooh science. They dispute its objectivity and neutrality. They point out that scientists have their own agendas, and that the scientific establishment is politicized. But I think they bark up the wrong tree. As criticisms of how science is actually conducted by some who call themselves scientists, their points may have merit. But they do not tarnish one whit the idea of science itself.

The scientific method

Properly done, science is conducted according to a procedure known as the scientific method. The details may vary a little from one discipline to another; but the basic scheme is the same. Here’s a brief outline of the steps within the scientific method:

1. Pose a question, to which you want to find an answer.
   
2. Do background research on that question.
   
3. Construct a hypothesis. This is a statement, giving a possible answer to your question. In some circumstances, you may want to take someone else’s hypothesis for re-testing.
   
4. Develop testable predictions of your hypothesis. For example: “If my hypothesis is true, then when X happens, Y will happen more often than it does when X doesn’t happen.”
   
5. For each prediction, formulate an appropriate null hypothesis, against which you will test your prediction. For example: “X doesn’t influence whether or not Y happens.”
   
6. Test the predictions against their null hypotheses by experiment or observation. If you need to use someone else’s data as part of this, you must first check the validity of their data.
   
7. Collect your results, and check they make sense. If not, troubleshoot.
   
8. Analyze your results and draw conclusions. This may require the use of statistical techniques.
   
9. Repeat for each of the predictions of your hypothesis.
   
10. If the results wholly or partially negate your hypothesis, modify your hypothesis and repeat. In extreme cases, you may need to modify the original question, too.
    
11. If the results back up your hypothesis, that strengthens your hypothesis.
    
12. If negative results falsify your hypothesis, that weakens or destroys the hypothesis.
    

I see the construction of the null hypothesis, which is to be upheld when a prediction fails, as one of the most important steps in this procedure. I think of the null hypothesis in science as somewhat akin to the presumption of innocence in criminal law!

Rules for the good conduct of science

It’s very easy to get science wrong. In fact, it’s even easier than getting mathematics wrong. And, having been trained as a mathematician, I know well how easy that is! In science, there’s always a possibility of error in your measurements, or in your statistics, or in your deductions. Or of insufficiently rigorous testing or sampling. Or of bias, whether conscious or unconscious.

To minimize the chances of getting science wrong, and to enable others to build on its results, there are a number of rules of conduct which scientists are expected to follow. Here is a list of some of them:

1. Any hypothesis that is put forward must be falsifiable. If there’s no way to disprove a hypothesis, it isn’t science.
   
2. Data must not be doctored. Any necessary adjustments to raw data, and the reasoning behind them, must be fully and clearly documented.
   
3. Data must not be cherry picked to achieve a result. Data that is valid, but goes against a desired result, must not be dropped.
   
4. Graphs or similar devices must not be used to obfuscate or to mislead.
   
5. Enough information must be supplied to enable others to replicate the work if they wish.
   
6. Scientists must be willing to share their data. And code, too, when code is involved.
   
7. Supplementary information, such as raw data, must be fully and promptly archived.
   
8. To identify and quantify the error bars on results is important. (For example, by stating the range within which there’s a 95% chance that a value being measured lies.)
   
9. Uncertainties are important, too. They must be clearly identified and, if possible, estimated.
   
10. Above all, the conduct of science must be honest and unbiased. In a nutshell: If it isn’t honest, it isn’t science. It’s nonscience (rhymes with conscience).
    

A failure to obey one or more of these rules of conduct doesn’t necessarily mean that the science is bad. However, it does raise a red flag; particularly in cases where there may be a suspicion of bias or dishonesty. And if a sufficiently skilled person, with sufficient time to spare, doesn’t have enough information to check the validity of a scientific paper, or to attempt to replicate the work it describes, then there’s a very good chance the science in it is bad.

Peer review and spear review

In the world of scientific journals, there is a quality control mechanism known as peer review. The idea is that a number of independent experts scrutinize a proposed paper, check its correctness and its utility, and suggest changes where necessary. But peer review doesn’t always catch issues with papers before they are published. This is a particular problem when the reviewers work or have worked closely with the authors, and share their conceptual framework. Indeed, where a group of experts on a subject have formed a clique, it’s easy for groupthink to develop. In such a situation, only those ideas with which clique members are comfortable are likely to pass muster and get published.

In recent times, there has been a great increase in informal papers on scientific blogs. The usual procedure in these circumstances is one I call “spear review,” in which commenters provide comments in response to a blog article. It does have some drawbacks. One is that not all the commenters actually have much, if any, expertise in the subject they are commenting on. Another is that some commenters are biased or trolling. A third is that the process can often resemble a pack of dogs chasing a cat. But when it’s done by people who are trying to be objective and helpful, it’s very useful. Particularly in determining whether a scientific idea is good enough to be worth trying to publish through more formal channels.

Paradigms and consensus

At any time and in any area of science, there is almost always a particular paradigm. This is a framework of concepts, thoughts and procedures, within which work in that area is generally confined. Past examples are Ptolemy’s earth-centred model of the universe, the phlogiston theory of combustion, and the “luminiferous aether” which was said to carry light waves.

Within such a paradigm, there is usually some kind of consensus. Hypotheses, which have been repeatedly confirmed, can aggregate into theories; and such theories can be agreed on by all or most practitioners in the area. However, in an area of science which is advancing, there will always be parts that are disputed. There will be different hypotheses, and different interpretations of the results of experiments or observations. Moreover, there will be parts on the “cutting edge,” which are still under investigation. And in any area of science, there is always a possibility of a previously unknown factor being discovered.

Thus, however mature the science in an area may be, it can never truly be said to be “settled.” There is always a possibility of altering or overturning the consensus in an area of science, or even of overturning the paradigm and creating a new one. For example, Galileo’s telescope observations overturned Ptolemy’s geocentric model. Michelson and Morley’s measurements on the speed of light overturned the idea of the aether. And Einstein’s theories of relativity provided a more accurate replacement for Newton’s laws on the dynamics of bodies in motion.

The example of Einstein, who was a patent clerk when he published his ideas on special relativity and the equivalence of matter and energy, shows up another important feature of science. In science, it doesn’t matter who you are. You don’t need to be a credentialled “scientist” to contribute to science. All that matters is whether or not your science is right.

And the converse applies, too. In science, even the acknowledged experts aren’t always right. As Steven Weinberg put it: “An expert is a person who avoids the small errors while sweeping on to the grand fallacy.” In fact, it’s worse than that. Experts in a paradigm often tend to form a clique to defend that paradigm, and may ignore or even try to suppress ideas contrary to it. And most of all, when their livelihoods depend on the paradigm being maintained.

Science and decision making

Science is useful in making many decisions. Engineers, for example, use it all the time. They depend on the science, which they use to make their design decisions, being right. If it isn’t, their machines won’t work; with potentially disastrous consequences.

A relatively recent phenomenon is to attempt to apply science to political decisions. If difficult decisions must be made, there is a lot to be said for using science in making and justifying them where appropriate. As climate scientist Hans von Storch has put it: “Science is supposed to provide coldly, impassionately, knowledge about the options of policymaking.” But he added the caveat: “There should be a separation between scientific analysis and political decision making.” In other words, to be useful in any political context, science must be completely non-politicized.

Since in science one man’s truth is the same as another’s, it’s hard to argue against a decision that has been honestly made on the basis of accurate, unbiased science. If, of course, the science really is accurate and unbiased; and the decision has been made honestly. Those are big, big Ifs.

Science, properly and honestly done, can supply data to the “business case” for a decision. In particular, it can help to estimate the likely costs and benefits of a range of actions being considered. But this can only work when the science is completely honest, accurate and unbiased, and the error bars and other uncertainties are fully accounted for. For when it comes to adjudicating costs versus benefits, as every mathematician knows, subtracting one uncertain number from another often leads to orders of magnitude more uncertainty in their difference. Even the sign of the result may be unclear. In which case, that piece of science is useless as any guide to a decision in that case.

Politics and science

There are several cases from the past, in which those in political power have rejected good science; or they have been negatively influenced by, or even driven by, bad science. Galileo’s persecution at the hands of the Catholic church is one case in point.

Another example is provided by Lysenkoism in Soviet Russia. The paradigm that the methods of Comrade Lysenko radically improved plant yields became so politically strong, that those who dared to question it were fired from their jobs, imprisoned or even executed.

And even in the West, the shameful misuse of science is not unknown; as shown by the Eugenics movement. This movement began in the early 20th century, when genetics as a science was in its infancy. Eugenics became a respected academic discipline at many universities, particularly in the USA. Even though the whole idea was (wrongly) based on genetic determinism; if not also on racism.

The eugenics agenda re-defined moral worth in terms of genetic fitness. And it allowed doctors to decide who they thought was fit to reproduce or not. Moreover, this agenda was actively supported by the mainstream scientific establishment. And it numbered among its supporters, in the UK alone, prime ministers Neville Chamberlain and Winston Churchill, economist John Maynard Keynes, and architect of the welfare state William Beveridge. The results? Tens of thousands of people forcibly sterilized in the USA, and thousands in Canada too. Not to mention the hundreds of thousands who suffered when the nazis got their hands on the idea.

To sum up

Science is a method of discovering truths, using a procedure called the scientific method.

There are a number of rules for the good conduct of science. These aim to enable others to check the validity of, and to build on, the work of scientists. Failure to adhere to these rules may well be a sign of bad science. And the conduct of science must always be honest and unbiased. If it isn’t honest, it isn’t science; it’s nonscience.

Peer review aims to improve the quality of science. But it doesn’t always work, particularly when a clique has formed.

Most of the time, each area of science operates within its own current framework or paradigm, and there is a level of consensus among scientists in the area. But paradigms can be overturned. And importantly, in science, it doesn’t matter who you are. All that matters is whether or not you’re right.

Science can be helpful in making decisions, even political ones. But any science to be used in such a context must be completely honest, accurate, unbiased and non-politicized. And the record of the politically powerful in matters of science is, historically, not a good one.

On Political Ideologies

A couple of weeks ago, I looked at political societies and ways of organizing them. Today, I’ll take another slice from the same piece of wood, but along a different grain. I’ll look at the ideologies which have guided, and continue to guide, the tone and flavour of political societies.

The nation state

To re-cap what I said about the nation state in my earlier essay. The system was devised in the 16th century by a monarchist Frenchman called Jean Bodin. In this system, a “sovereign” or a ruling élite has privileges over the “subjects” or people. Among much else, it can make taxes, it can make wars, and it can make laws to bind the people. Further, it isn’t itself bound by the laws it makes. And it bears no responsibility for the consequences of what it does; also known as “the king can do no wrong.”

Today’s establishment, of course, will tell you that it isn’t like that any more. But it sure as hell is! Political governments still have the power to oppress, steal from and murder people, if they want to. And most of them will do just that, as long as they think they can get away with it.

The Enlightenment

The 17th century was the time of the “divine right of kings” par excellence. Buttressed by Bodin’s ideas, the norm back then was that a king or prince, along with his élites, ruled over a state essentially as he wished. Not surprisingly, people who weren’t part of the establishment weren’t happy with this at all. The results? War, revolution, and in time – Enlightenment.

The Enlightenment of the late 17th and 18th centuries affected primarily the European Christian cultures, and those derived from them. Though it spread to the Jews within a few decades, and its knock-on effects reached places like Japan and much of the Islamic world during the 19th century. However, its values set the tone for most political societies for more than two centuries.

What the Enlightenment did was free human minds from shackles, both religious and political. Here’s a brief list of some of its values. The use of human reason, and the pursuit of science. Greater tolerance in religion. Freedom of thought and action. Natural rights, natural equality of all human beings, and human dignity. The idea that society exists for the individual, not the individual for society. The idea of a social contract, to enable people to live together in a civil society and to protect their rights. Government for the benefit of, and with the consent of, the governed. The rule of law. A desire for progress, and a rational optimism for the future.

Liberalism and conservatism

In Enlightenment times, there were just two political ideologies. In England these were represented, in broad terms, by two factions: Whigs and Tories. Not all Whigs were always liberal; and not all Tories were always conservative. But these two factions tended to support the two opposing ideologies, of liberalism and conservatism.

Liberals – or what we might now call classical liberals – were the progressives of their times. They promoted the new Enlightenment ideas, such as reason, tolerance and natural rights. They wanted maximum freedom for every individual, consistent with a civilized society. And they saw societies, including political ones, as being for the benefit of each individual in them.

Conservatives, on the other hand, supported the state and its powerful élites – such as kings, nobles and church leaders. They saw these élites as possessing both rightful authority, and immunity from being held to account. And they resisted change. They sought to preserve the existing order both religious and political, and their own privileged positions in it.

Socialism and anarchism

In the early 19th century, a new ideology appeared: socialism. One of the difficulties in discussing socialism is that there’s no clear, widely accepted definition of it. For some, it means collective ownership and control over the means of producing, distributing and exchanging goods. For others, it means a social organization with an egalitarian distribution of wealth, and no such thing as private property. My 1928 dictionary calls it the “principle that individual liberty should be completely subordinated to the interests of the community with the deductions that can be drawn from it, e.g. the State ownership of land and capital.”

To be fair to them, the earliest socialists weren’t all bad guys. Often, they sought to create model communities, bound together by shared ideology. Robert Owen’s community at New Harmony, Indiana was an example. Of course, most – if not all – of these communities failed. And so, socialism started on its long slide down towards a militant collectivism, in which Society and the socialist agenda are paramount, and the individual is of no significance. Far from its intended purpose as a new and better form of liberalism, socialism became illiberal.

Another ideology, which began to grow at much the same time as socialism, was anarchism. The distinguishing feature of anarchism is its opposition to the state and to political government. But, just as socialism had done, anarchism began to degenerate. By the late 19th century, the anarchists had become little more than terrorist gangs.

Marxism and communism

Next came Marxism, and the communism it spawned. Marxism, so its adherents claimed, was scientific socialism; an attempt to apply the scientific method to social and political ideas. But Marxists saw capitalism – that is, ownership of property and of the means of production by individuals and by voluntarily formed groups – as leading, not to prosperity, but to inequality and instability. So, they fanned class war between working people and the classes they called “capitalists” and “bourgeoisie.”

The Marxists predicted that, once their system was in place, the political state would wither away. And yet, they set out to capture the state, and to use it to achieve their objectives! No wonder, then, that the result – communism – turned out so evil. Its results? Oppressions, famines, massacres and mass deportations; leading to nearly a hundred million unnecessary deaths. As to the economy, as one wag put it: “The problem of queues will be solved when we reach full Communism. How come? There will be nothing left to queue up for.”

Fascism

Then came fascism. In some ways, it’s hard to separate fascism from communism. Both shared an attachment to dictatorial power, extinguishing individual freedom, forcible suppression of opposition, social indoctrination and a lack of ethical restraints on the state. But in some respects, fascists went further. They were racists. They sought to make unpopular groups of people into scapegoats, and to purge those they considered inferior, such as Jews. But above all, fascists glorified violence and war. With predictable results.

Modern ideologies

In the course of the 20th century, other evil ideologies have also been established in various parts of the world. Notable among them have been racism, as in apartheid South Africa and Idi Amin’s Uganda; theocracy, as in Iran; and dictatorship, as in North Korea. In the West, however, we have been subjected to the unholy trinity of welfarism, warfarism and environmentalism.

The ideology of welfarism, also known as nanny-statism, has led the ruling class to try to bribe people into believing that the state is a benefit to them. They have set up elaborate, re-distributory schemes for welfare, health, education and the like; and commandeered resources to implement those schemes. But these resources don’t go directly from the payers to the recipients. Nor do the payers receive any thanks at all in return. Instead, everything is filtered through the bureaucracy that maladministers the system, and the politically connected cronies that feed off it.

Welfarism has had two main effects. First, it has dragged down into dependence on the state many who, if allowed the chance, would have been able to prosper through their own efforts. Second, it has taken away from productive people the resources they should have been able to use to safeguard their own futures. Welfarism, to use a metaphor, is like breaking people’s legs then giving them crutches – and expecting them to thank you for it.

A recent development of welfarism is what I call social engineering fever. Those affected by this ailment seem to think that they have a right to interfere in others’ lives, for no better purpose than their own social goals. These zealots like nothing better than to seek to change other people’s behaviour – for example, in their diet or means of transport. And they are adept at using state dominated education and politically correct media to promote their nefarious schemes.

Then there are warfarism and its comrade, the security state. Warfarism is the ideology of the school bully. (It’s also very profitable, for those on the right side of it). Warfarists instigate “war on drugs,” “war on terror” and the like. They seek any excuse to use police or military force. Often, while decrying terrorism, they encourage – and even carry out – terrorist acts. At the same time, they pry into people’s lives, and monitor and record our actions in ever increasing detail.

Environmentalism, the third of the unholy trinity, is a large subject. So much so, that it demands a whole essay in itself. Here, I will only point out that, like welfarism and warfarism, environmentalism provides huge opportunities for cronies of the state to make themselves rich.

Democracy

Democracy isn’t, in the technical sense, an ideology. However, many in politics act as if it was. They present themselves as “democrats” of one kind or another; perhaps “social” or “liberal.” So, I’ll add here to what I said about democracy in my earlier essay. It’s my view that democracy, once implemented, will inevitably decay. I see it as going through four phases, each worse than the previous one.

Democracy-1 is the honeymoon period. People believe that they have a real say in what the government does. But it isn’t long before there emerge political factions, looking to take advantage of the situation; as James Madison warned way back in 1787.

In the next stage, democracy-2, two factions (or, rarely, three or more) attract cores of support, and promote policies designed to favour their own supporters. People start to divide along party lines. Those who don’t like any of the main parties will tend to vote for whichever seems less evil at the time. So, power tends to swing from one side to the other and back again. The social fabric becomes more and more stretched, and the tone of politics nastier and nastier.

In democracy-3, the main political parties and their respective cronies align with each other, and against the interests of the people. Here, different factions may spout different rhetoric; and their policies may, perhaps, be a little different around the edges. But their ideologies are essentially the same. Under democracy-3, policies are not made in the interests of the people, but to benefit the political class and their hangers-on, and to satisfy the agendas of special interest groups. And elections become largely irrelevant; for each time, the new king is much the same as the old one.

Democracy-4 is a terminal social illness; already into some countries, like Greece. The political state reaches a critical mass. Those dependent on the state, either for work or for benefits, become an absolute majority. Thus under democracy-4, a single interest bloc can forever outvote, and so oppress, everyone else. There’s no way out of this, short of exit or revolution.

The decay of politics

Except for Enlightenment liberalism, all the ideologies I’ve listed above are anti-Enlightenment, anti-individual and anti-human. In fact, it’s worse than that. Corruption and decay seem to be built in to all political ideologies. I already mentioned the negative changes that took place in both socialism and anarchism. And the word “liberal,” particularly in the USA, has been corrupted in its meaning; so that I find many of today’s self proclaimed “liberals” no more than vaguely socialist illiberals.

Some conservatives, on the other hand, have moved in a better direction. No longer are they merely supporters of the status quo. Some of them, indeed, have come to uphold the values of the Enlightenment! But there are also many far less benign conservatives, who want to forcibly return us all to a mythical past, when Gahd was in his heaven and all was right with the world. And many of them are warfarists, too.

Now, a radical question. Why should anyone have to suffer under someone else’s ideology? Why, for example, should conservatives have to suffer under socialism, or vice versa? Come to that, why should those of us, who hate politics of all stripes, have to suffer under any ideology at all? Why don’t we simply de-politicize life? Why don’t we set up a framework that maintains peace and supplies objective, non-politicized justice, and in which groups of like-minded people can get together and follow their own ideologies as they choose?

I think that all true liberals and the more benign conservatives – at least – could quite easily be accommodated in such a scheme. And those of us who don’t want politics at all can simply be ourselves, and make friends with whomever we damn well wish. Even socialists, racists and theocrats could have their own communes, as long as they behave civilly when outside them. Fascists and warfarists would, of course, have to be banned.

To sum up

We’re still living under a political system devised in the 16th century. In this system, anyone that can acquire enough political power can make taxes, wars and bad laws as they please. And they can force whatever political ideology they want on to everyone around them. Most of the ideologies that are extant today are evil. And democracy, far from fixing the problem, actually tends to make things worse.

This really isn’t good enough. That a species, which has developed nuclear weapons, is still using a political system from the age of the musket, is crazy. And scary. It’s got to change.

A Wassail Song

At a writers' club I frequent, a writer from the Stroud area in Gloucestershire published the words of a wassail song, recently written for the local "Five Valleys Wassail." Not having the tune to hand, and having a few hours spare, I decided to write my own tune to the words. Here it is (unfortunately, I couldn't post the MIDI file)...

On Political Societies and Political Governments

In a recent essay, I discussed how individuals and societies might fit together into a civilization based on a minimal set of rules of convivial conduct, such as peacefulness, honesty and respect for rights. Today, I’ll follow that up, and look in more detail at political societies and political governments.

Even working out what the phrase “political society” actually means isn’t easy. At one level, it’s a society that takes part in politics. That is, a society that seeks to gain political power, or to influence the policies of those in power. But the same phrase is more commonly used in a wider sense, to mean a group of people living within particular borders, and ruled over by a political government. This group of people goes by many names; the nation, the country, the people, to name but three. And it seems to me that often, neither the precise membership of this group nor its binding forces are very well defined.

The state

To begin, I’ll briefly review the essence of the political state. By this, I mean the so called “Westphalian” nation state. This system, introduced in the 17th century, is still the basis of political organization in most countries in the world today.

A state differs from all other organizations, in that it claims “sovereignty” over a geographical territory, and over the people in it. Per Webster’s, sovereignty is “supreme power, especially over a body politic.” In some countries, like the USA and Canada, sovereignty may be exercised at two, sometimes conflicting, levels; the federal or national, and the state or province.

This idea of sovereignty goes all the way back to a 16th century monarchist Frenchman named Jean Bodin. In Bodin’s scheme, the sovereign – the king or ruling élite – is fundamentally different from, and superior to, the rest of the population in its territory, the “subjects.” In particular, the sovereign has moral privileges; that is, rights to do certain things, which others don’t share. Bodin lists these privileges as: (1) To make laws to bind the subjects. (2) To make war and peace. (3) To appoint the top officials of the state. (4) To be the final court of appeal. (5) To pardon guilty individuals if it so wishes. (6) To issue a currency. (7) To levy taxes and impositions, and to exempt, if it wishes, certain individuals or groups from payment. Furthermore, the sovereign isn’t bound by the laws it makes. And it isn’t responsible for the consequences of what it does (also known as “the king can do no wrong.”)

And we’re still using Bodin’s system today. Isn’t that crazy? We don’t use 17th century medicine any more, or 17th century technology, or 17th century transport. And we’ve been through the Enlightenment since then, for goodness’ sake! So why are we still using a political system from the days of the “divine right of kings?” Why are we still suffering a system that lets an élite do to us exactly what it wants, with no accountability or come-back?

Surely, we’ve put bags on the side of this system over time. We’ve tried parliaments that are meant to “represent” us. We’ve tried constitutions meant to limit the sovereign’s power. We’ve tried to separate powers between legislative, executive and judiciary. We’ve tried charters and bills of rights. We’ve tried the sham called “democracy.” But none of them have worked.

Constitution

In my earlier essay, I identified some important characteristics of societies in general. First, virtually all societies have some form of constitution, to say how the society is supposed to operate. This is usually, though not always, written down.

Most countries today do have written political constitutions. (The UK is an exception). How well those in power keep within the constitutional limits, though, is often a moot point.

Social contract

When an individual joins a society, there comes into being a contract between the individual and the society. This contract may be in writing, or by oral agreement.

Most people, though, never explicitly join a political society. Immigrants who apply for a new citizenship are the major exception to this. Others are simply deemed to be subjects of such a society, perhaps according to their place of birth or the nationalities of their parents.

The fiction that sustains the idea of political society, and so political government, is the so called “social contract.” Here’s the idea behind this fiction. We, the individuals who form the political society, consent to submit to the authority of a government. We give away some of our freedoms, and we take on obligations to other members of the society. In exchange, we – in theory – receive protection of our remaining rights.

In the days of city states, many people would have willingly entered into such a contract, if only for the benefit of being defended by the walls. Even in the 17th century, the idea still made some sense. But in today’s world of rapid travel, global economy, Internet and mass migration, selling our souls to the political government of some arbitrary territory makes no sense at all.

Furthermore, one would expect that a contract with such wide ranging effects on people’s lives would be a formal one. It would be written down, carefully considered, negotiated, agreed and signed by all parties. And if a government mistreats anyone, or fails to deliver on its side of the bargain, the victims would be able to recover damages from those responsible. No?

Yet what actually happens is quite the opposite. All political governments today behave as if those in their territory have tacitly consented to their rule. They claim that, while in the area controlled by a government, an individual consents to submit himself to all laws made by that government. And if those laws are unjust? Tough, if you are “caught” breaking them.

Unity

As I made clear in my earlier essay, a society is a unity. It makes decisions based on the interests of the society as a whole. If individuals within the society disagree with what the society decides to do, they either have to accept the decision, or leave the society.

With a political society, however, no-one can leave without physically uprooting themselves. And since there is no liveable place on the planet not claimed by some political state, they will have to find another political society to live in. So, political societies are fundamentally different from others, in that you cannot leave without suffering a significant, maybe a crippling, penalty.

Thus those in a political society, who are unable or unwilling to pay the price and leave, are forced to accept whatever decisions and policies are made by those in power. This would be bad, even if the members of the society were few and culturally homogeneous. But in a “society” of many millions of people, that includes diverse races, religions, cultures, ideologies and interest groups, it’s a disaster.

When you think hard about it, the idea that a population of tens or hundreds of millions of people – or even, as in China or India, more than a billion – all have enough in common to constitute a society, comes to seem ridiculous. Indeed, it raises a deeper question: can a political “society” be rightly said to be a society at all?

Moreover, today’s political societies are far too large for any kind of consensus to be practical. So, inevitably, they will end up as oligarchies (or even, as in North Korea, autocracies). Leading, as I said in my earlier essay, to a three class society: rulers, cronies and nobodies.

Democracy

Ah, you may say, but in the West at least, we have democracy! Isn’t that the best political system possible? Doesn’t it enable us to elect representatives to defend our interests? Doesn’t it give each of us our fair say in every decision? Doesn’t it give us, in John Adams’ words, “government of laws, not of men?”

In one word, I answer: No.

At first sight, a democracy looks much like a normal society. The members elect a committee, and the committee rules until the next general meeting (election). What’s not to like?

But here’s the reality of “democracy” today. Each of us gets a chance to vote every so often. But the only alternatives offered to us are political parties; lying, thieving criminal gangs, none of which show even the slightest concern for us human beings. And whichever of these criminal gangs wins the election will be granted all but absolute power over us for the next few years.

Has democracy brought us the freedom, justice and peace we deserve? No. Arguably, it has made things worse. For it brings opportunities for power to those that want power; that is, to exactly those least suited to be allowed power. It pollutes the mental atmosphere with lies, spin and empty promises. And the voting ritual gives the whole charade a veneer of false legitimacy. It enables those in power to claim that they have a “mandate” to implement their agendas. Thus they can “lawfully” harass, or impoverish, or violate the rights of, innocent people. And they can rob Peter to buy Paul’s vote, and favour their supporters at the expense of everyone else.

Worse yet; democracy divides people from each other. The victims of unjust policies feel harshly treated, and become disaffected. They come to view politics and politicians with contempt and loathing. And gradually, they lose all sense of belonging, and of fellow feeling for those around them. Thus, democracy breaks apart the very sense of “we” that gave it legitimacy in the first place. It destroys the social cohesion, the glue which ought to keep the political society together.

In recent times, proposals have been made for tiered or multi-level voting systems. These aim to bring politics closer to home, and to make those who acquire power a bit more “representative” of the people. While these are certainly worth looking at as a means of running large societies, and might have some positive effects, I don’t think they address the real problem. That problem is a 17th century political system, that allows the worst, the most callous, dishonest, devious and psychopathic, to rule over everyone else with near impunity. Simply put: the state is out of date.

EU and UN

And then we have the superstates; the European Union (which some of my right wing friends call the EUSSR) and the United Nations. Both are remote, bureaucratic organizations, even less accountable than the local élites. Both seek to impose on all of us policies – drab, corrupt socialism in one case, deep green environmentalism in the other – that are anathema to honest, independent human beings. Both are bad news for us all.

My solution

But there’s some good news too. I think I have a potential solution to the political problems we face today. It’s radical; but extreme conditions call for extreme responses!

The first step, I think, must be to understand what the valid functions of government actually are. I see three, and only three, such functions. The first is to maintain peace. The second is to deliver justice. Justice, as I put forward in an earlier essay, is the condition in which each individual, over the long term and in the round, is treated as he or she treats others. This function includes the just resolution of disputes. The third valid function of government is defence of the rights of those who respect others’ rights. Those rights, as I discussed in another earlier essay, include fundamental rights like life, property and privacy; and rights of non-impedance, such as freedom of speech, religion and association.

The second step in my suggestion is to move these three valid functions of government up a level. That is, from political societies to a peaceful, honest, rights respecting framework like Frank van Dun’s convivial order; on which I have elaborated in previous essays.

In two words: de-politicize government. Said more fully: Get rid of the out of date Westphalian state. Get rid of politics. Replace them by a framework which is peaceful, honest and respects the rights of all human beings.

And in the process, we will recycle the former nation states into societies which promote national cultures, and do no more. Thus, those who abhor politics will no longer be forced to have anything to do with it, or with anyone that has ever taken part in it. This will also have the side benefit of getting rid of the arbitrary political borders that plague our world today.

Please note, I’m not suggesting a world government of any kind. That, like the EU and the UN, would be going in precisely the wrong direction. My ideal government will be de-centralized. It will take account of local cultures and local systems of law. It will defend the rights of everyone who respects others' rights. It will not harass or impoverish innocent people, or favour a ruling class and their cronies. While at the same time, it will hold everyone objectively responsible for the effects of their actions on others.

But most important of all, government in the convivial order won’t have any “will” to do anything beyond its remit. It will have no policy agendas. It will treat all individuals as morally equal; and it will not take sides between one group and another. It will not commit aggressions against innocents. It will consume no more resources than it needs to in order to fulfil its remit. It will charge individuals no more than is commensurate to the benefit it delivers to each of them. And it will be as objective in all its decisions as humanly possible.

To sum up

In this essay, I’ve discussed some of the problems we face with politics and political societies today. And I’ve made a radical suggestion. That is, that we human beings may be able to solve many of our problems by de-politicizing government. And moving its valid functions, of delivering peace and justice and defending rights, up to the level of the convivial order, in which everyone lives according to basic rules of civilized behaviour.

On Societies

Recently, I identified and discussed six levels of community, of which human beings can be part. Today, I’ll look in more detail at the fifth of these levels, the society. And at its relationship to the level above it, Civilization or the convivial order.

To re-cap: A society is a group of people who choose to work together for a common aim. Each society has its own goals and purposes, and may in some sense be said to have a “will.” People can form societies, or join existing societies. The members of a society are held together by binding forces, such as shared aims and objectives and a shared sense of identity.

There are many kinds and purposes of societies. People may meet to share a common activity, such as making music, playing a sport, or performing rites of worship for some deity. Or they may wish to live among others who share a political ideology or a lifestyle choice. Or they may wish to enjoy or to promote a particular culture. Or they may form a business as directors or partners, or join a business as employees.

There are also societies that are explicitly political, such as political parties. And there are nations and political states. These are big subjects; so, I’ll leave them for another day. Today, I’ll content myself with considering human societies in general.

Constitution

Almost every society has some form of constitution. Webster’s calls this “a written instrument embodying the rules of a political or social organization.” Though historically, not all constitutions have been written down.

The idea of a constitution is to set out the way in which the society is supposed to work. It usually includes things like: what the founding principles of the society are, what officers it should have, how they are to be selected, and the procedures for making decisions within the society. And importantly, how the constitution itself may be changed.

Contract

When individuals or societies make commitments to each other, their respective commitments are embodied in a contract. Depending on the level of formality, the contract may be oral or written. At the level of two individuals, marriage is a contract. And when an individual joins a society, a contract is made, in effect, between the individual and the society.

A contract may be as simple as an oral promise met by a nod. Or it may extend to dozens or even hundreds of pages of legalese. The latter is particularly common in business, where employment contracts, and contracts for the supply of goods or services, can become fiendishly complicated. (Not helped, I will say, by ever increasing government regulations.) Often, a key condition is to agree on what is to happen when one or both parties wish to terminate the contract.

Personality

Although societies are not people, it has become common practice to treat them as if they were, and so to give them “personality.”

This legal fiction probably arose because a society, like a person, is a unity. It makes decisions based on its principles and interests, and acts on them. Even though some of its members may disagree on an issue, the society as a whole takes only one view, decided according to the rules in its constitution.

Methods of organization

I’ll review some of the many methods used to organize societies, both in the past and today.

A very old way to organize a society is Autocracy. Heap Big Chief makes the decisions, everyone else kow-tows. I have long found it amusing that many libertarian organizations, which promote the ideas of individual freedom, are autocracies underneath! Now, autocracy is a fine way to run a society, if you happen to be the autocrat, or if you get on well with him. But unless he has an impartial sense of justice and a strong will to keep to it, it doesn’t do much for anyone else.

Oligarchy is an evolution of autocracy, in which Heap Big Chief is replaced or supplemented by a committee. It often leads towards a three class society: the powerful, their cronies and the urks. Oligarchy, like autocracy, doesn’t do much for the urks. Unless the oligarchs are enlightened; which is rare.

Further, many businesses are oligarchies. The board of directors sets the rules. Key employees usually do quite well; but the rest do less well. In well run companies, particularly small ones, this can be mitigated by personal contact between the leaders and the led. But the bigger the company, the more likely it is to reflect the three-class model of top dogs, pals and mozos.

Partnership (in both the marriage and business senses) is, or should be, an oligarchy in which everyone is equal. In a partnership, decisions are to be made, as far as possible, by consensus. Some partnerships, both married couples and businesses, manage to do this. Others don’t.

Majority voting is another way to make a group of people into a unity. In this system, the decision goes to a vote among the members of the society. The view of the majority wins out over the view of the rest, with some provision for a casting vote in the event of a tie. This was the idea behind ancient Athenian democracy; though in Athens, of course, only male citizens could vote, not non-citizens, women or slaves. It’s rarely used today, except in some town meetings in the USA, in a couple of Swiss cantons, and very occasionally in the form of a referendum.

Shareholding is a variation on majority voting. In this system, the votes are not equal, but have weights in proportion to the contribution (in some measure) of each individual entitled to vote. It is used mainly by companies whose shares are publicly traded.

For most non-business societies today, the means of organization is elected oligarchy. The members elect a committee, and the committee makes the decisions on behalf of the whole society. This system is supplemented by regular (for example, annual) general meetings, at which the members can hold the committee to account, and replace them if needed.

The very largest societies tend to be top down and hierarchical, with several levels. The Catholic church, for example, has a pope, cardinals, bishops and priests. Multi-national companies usually have a main board and a single head office, with subsidiaries in each region or country.

Societies in the convivial order

In earlier essays, I’ve described Belgian philosopher Frank van Dun’s idea of the convivial order. This is a framework, in which people live together, and in which all are free to form or to join societies as they choose. And in which the community is bound together by a shared core of standards of convivial conduct.

How could the many and various kinds of societies fit into such an order? Plainly, some societies will demand from their members more than just the basic minimum standards of convivial conduct. For example, a commitment not to eat pork, or not to drink alcohol, is built into the rules of some religious societies. And yet, it isn’t reasonable to expect people, who don’t subscribe to the religion, to obey these rules. So, they can’t be included in the convivial core.

The solution to this problem, as I see it, is to allow any society to make, and to enforce on its members, its own additional rules, over and above the convivial minimums. Any such rules and enforcements are to be agreed within the society, using its own decision procedures.

But obviously, no society should be allowed to impose its proprietary rules on non-members. And if members feel that the rules of a society are too great an imposition on them, they must be free to leave the society. Further, a member wishing to leave a society, for any reason, must not be subjected to any unreasonable penalty.

The case, where a society wishes to waive or modify one or more of the standards of convivial conduct, is a little harder. There are valid reasons to want to do this. For example, aggressively punching people is disconvivial conduct. But a boxing club will want to allow its members to punch each other, under certain rules, in training or in an actual fight. Indeed, it may want to contract with another boxing club to allow a specific member or members of one club to box against a specific member or members of the other.

Thus as a general rule, societies – and, indeed, individuals where necessary – must be able to make contracts, which allow them mutually to waive individual elements of the core standards under specified conditions. But when dealing with individuals outside these societies, or with those who aren't a party to any such waiver, both societies and individuals must always behave fully up to convivial standards.

To sum up

In this essay, I’ve given an outline of the characteristics of human societies in general. I’ve reviewed several different methods of social organization. And I’ve described how all these societies might be fitted into a framework such as Frank van Dun’s convivial order.

On Community

Today, I’m going to look at the idea of community. Like many words with political connotations, this is a slippery one.

My own definition is: “a group of people with something in common.” The dictionary, however, gives several different senses. These include a political state, a condition of owning goods jointly, and “society at large.” Even when the sense is similar to mine, it’s often qualified by extra conditions. Such as people living in a particular area, or a sub-group within a larger society.

For me, the word has two strands of etymology. First, from the same root as “common.” Thus, a community is a group of people bound together by common traits. And second, from the Latin com- (with) and munire, to fortify; so meaning sharing walls. Thus, I think of a community as defined by two aspects: binding forces, which hold the people of the community together, and walls, which separate them from those outside.

Levels of community

In a traditional view, community has three, or perhaps four, levels. First, marriage. Second, the family. Third – though not everyone counts this – the day-to-day world of work and friendships. And at the top, “society,” which many identify with the political nation or state. But I find this view over-simple. I see, not three or four levels, but six. From the bottom up:

1. Individual.
   
2. Partnership.
   
3. Family.
   
4. Marketplace.
   
5. Societies.
   
6. Civilization (convivial community).
   

Many people don’t think of the individual as a community. But it is; it’s an ensemble consisting of one person. And every human being has both walls and a binding force. Our walls are of two kinds. First, the physical body, and second, our human rights and personal life-space. And the binding force, which holds each of us together, is our individual personality.

The second level is partnership. The most obvious example is traditional marriage; but it’s not the only kind of partnership. And a partnership isn’t necessarily restricted to just two people. In a partnership, the primary binding force is usually love. But there are others; such as companionship, comfort when you’re down, and sexual pleasure. As to walls, a partnership is a contract between its members. So, the walls of partnership are walls of contract.

The third level of community is family or, much the same thing in the West today, household. The walls are the walls of a home, and the binding force is kinship.

The fourth level is the marketplace, the community of those with whom individuals interact in their daily lives. Your marketplace includes those with whom you deal regularly or occasionally. It contains your friends, workmates, business partners, clients and suppliers, those you serve and those who serve you. It often also includes extended family. Here, the binding force of your marketplace is you. And the marketplace as a whole is the aggregate of all individuals’ marketplaces.

The walls of your marketplace, however, are more subtle; they are walls of choice. Absent coercion, intimidation and fraud, you – like all others – have a free marketplace. You can choose whom you interact with. And where it’s practical, you can seek to avoid dealing with those you don’t like. However, a free marketplace needs at least a minimal framework of civilization – one that deters aggression, violence and fraud, at least – in order to keep it free.

The fifth level is societies (plural). A society is a group of people who choose to work together for a common aim; such as a musical ensemble, a football club, a business or a church. Each society has its own goals and purposes, and may in some sense be said to have a “will.” In almost every case, it will also have officers, some of whom are more powerful than others.

Here, the forces binding a society are shared desires, shared aims and objectives, and a shared sense of identity. In addition, the members of many societies are bound together by shared customs. The walls of a society, on the other hand, separate members from non-members.

One kind of society, which has physical walls as well as walls of membership, is the commune. The purpose of some communes is merely to make life easier for a group of people who live in close proximity to each other; for example, a gated community. Other communes allow people to live alongside others with similar attitudes. Thus those of a particular religious persuasion may choose to form a commune, such as a monastery. Socialists can live in socialist communes, if they wish. And libertarians can live in libertarian communes, and libertines in libertine ones.

In my earlier writings, I called the sixth and highest level Civilization. But I’m now coming to prefer convivial community or convivial order. The latter phrase was coined by Belgian philosopher Frank van Dun. He describes the convivial order as one in which “people live together regardless of their membership, status, position, role or function in any, let alone the same, society.” What binds convivial people together is a shared willingness to behave in a convivial manner. And our walls are the rules of convivial conduct. Which, as a friend opined in response to one of my earlier essays, can be summed up as “Don’t be an asshole.”

Thus, the convivial community is a framework for living together. And it supports a community of those who choose to behave up to the standards of convivial conduct. However, this community is not, and never can be, a society. It has no president or chairman. It has no officials, no goals as a group, and no politics. And it is (will be), by its very nature, world-wide.

Characteristics of each level of community

Each level has its own features. In some, individuals have to accept what is already there. In others, we have free choice. Broadly, at the odd numbered levels we have to play the hand we’re dealt, at least up to a point. Whereas at the even numbered levels, we have freedom to choose for ourselves.

As individuals, we have to accept what we’re born as. We have to make the best we can of our particular strengths and weaknesses. In contrast, we have (absent coercion) the right freely to choose a partner. Or partners, if that’s the way we’re inclined. Or to go through life as independent individuals, if that’s what suits us.

We have to accept the family we’re born into, at least for the first 20 or so years of our lives. And if we decide to have children of our own, we have to take the responsibility of supporting and educating them until they are independent. In the marketplace, on the other hand, we have (again, absent coercion) free choice of whom we will deal with.

As to societies, we have to accept the rules of any society we choose to join, provided they’re reasonable. And we should accept the people in power in a society we join, as long as they work honestly for the good of the society and of its members. But we always have the right to leave any society, and to join another, or many others. Or to form our own societies.

Finally, the convivial community is again a level of individual choice. It’s our own choice to decide to behave towards our fellows in a convivial manner. And we choose who we count as our fellows by judging how far their conduct is convivial. Thus, conviviality does not arise from any social group. Rather, community arises out of shared conviviality.

In the convivial community, the individual – and his or her conduct – is everything. Neither race, skin colour, gender, age, physical size or attractiveness, geographical location, cultural origin, sexual tastes, nor even disability, are bars to entry to that community. And as to religion, the only stipulation is that you don’t try to foist your religion others.

Political society and political community

Lastly for today, I’ll look at the ideas of political community and political society.

Many people, particularly those of a more conservative bent, seem to feel a strong attachment to something they call the community. When I probe as to what this may be, I find that what they have in mind is a political community. Further, it seems to be coterminous with, if not exactly the same as, a political state or nation. Others, when they talk about a political unit, prefer to call it society. The more collectivist among them go so far as to dignify it with a capital S, and to place it up on a pedestal, like some deity.

But both these groups share one view; their politics is top down. For them, the state, the nation, community or society is all important. It has the right to impose its agendas on people, and to tell them how to behave. And the individual human being, and his or her rights, are of little or no importance in comparison.

A political society, broadly defined, is a society that takes part in politics. And, per Webster’s, politics is “the art or science of government.” A political party, then, is an exemplar of a political society. Its purpose is to seek power, and when in power to impose its agendas. And it favours its own leaders and their cronies, and the party’s followers, at the expense of everyone else. Such parties lead towards political government, with its ruling class, taxes, moral privileges, bureaucracies, wars, bad laws and more or less corrupt “justice” system.

Myself, I want nothing to do with political parties, political governments or any other political society. I regard the parties, and those that take an active part in them, as disconvivial. That is, as far away from us convivials as criminals are from honest, peaceful people.

Moreover, I feel little if any sense of political community. Oh, the walls of a political “community” are clear enough; they’re its, more or less arbitrary, borders. But what binds such a community together? Who, precisely, belongs to it? Those who live in its territory? Those born inside its borders? Those of a particular nationality? Those who share particular customs, language or culture? Do they include, for example, short term visitors? Long term visitors? Resident aliens? Asylum seekers? Recent immigrants? “Illegal” immigrants?

Moreover, imposition of harmful policies at the behest of activist groups, which has become a major feature of politics in recent years, can only have the effect of dissolving what little fellow feeling is left between the victims and their supposed cohorts.

To sum up

I see six levels of community. In increasing size, these are: the individual, the partnership, the family, the marketplace, societies, and the convivial community.

At some of these levels – the individual, family, societies – we have to accept, to a greater or lesser extent, what is already there. In the others, we have free choice, within the limits of convivial conduct. And at the highest level, the convivial community forms a framework, in which people can live together peacefully and well. And in which there is no place for politics, or for arbitrary borders, ruling classes, bad laws, injustices, taxes, bureaucracies or wars.