Topic: Political Philosophy

Michael Gerson’s Pimply Adolescence

Michael Gerson, the former Bush speechwriter who gave us big-government conservatism and is now the #2 neocon columnist at the Washington Post, writes more about libertarianism than any other writer of such prominence. That would be great if he understood it, or could represent libertarianism fairly in his criticisms. Over the past few years he has denounced libertarianism as “morally empty,” “anti-government,” “a scandal,” “an idealism that strangles mercy,” guilty of “selfishness,” “rigid ideology,” and “rigorous ideological coldness.”

And here’s today’s entry:

A few libertarians have wanted this fight [Mitt Romney’s reference to 47 percent of Americans being “dependent on government”] ever since they read “Atlas Shrugged” as pimply adolescents. …

Republican politicians could turn to Burkean conservatism, with its emphasis on the “little platoons” of civil society. They could reflect on the Catholic tradition of subsidiarity, and solidarity with the poor. They could draw inspiration from Tory evangelical social reformers such as William Wilberforce or Lord Shaftesbury. Or they could just read Abraham Lincoln, who stood for “an unfettered start, and a fair chance, in the race of life.”

Instead they mouth libertarian nonsense, unable to even describe some of the largest challenges of our time.

Well, let’s see here. Burke’s little platoons get a whole chapter in Charles Murray’s libertarian book In Pursuit: Of Happiness and Good Government and a good bit of attention in this Cato essay based on it. They’re people, not governments. The Catholic principle of subsidiarity, as explained by Pope Pius IX in Quadragesimo Anno, holds that “Just as it is gravely wrong to take from individuals what they can accomplish by their own initiative and industry and give it to the community, so also it is an injustice and at the same time a grave evil and disturbance of right order to assign to a greater and higher association what lesser and subordinate organizations can do.” Which sounds pretty libertarian to me. And it doesn’t seem to recommend turning local schools and individual marriages over to the federal government, as Messrs. Bush and Gerson endeavored to do.

Libertarianism is a philosophy of individual rights, civil society, and limited government. Those may be unfamiliar concepts to Mr. Gerson, but he really should, you know, read a book before presuming to criticize them.

I wonder what Gerson read when he was a pimply adolescent. Maybe the Bible, Burke, and Lincoln? Does he think that those ideas can be dismissed by referring to their readers as “pimply adolescents”? Is that what passes for conservative argument these days?

And why oh why can’t the Washington Post add a libertarian columnist to its array of lefties, welfare liberals, conservatives and neocons?

It’s Roy Childs Week!

Over at Libertarianism.org, we’re celebrating our old friend Roy Childs, once the anarchist enfant terrible of the mostly Objectivist libertarian movement, later a Cato foreign policy analyst, editor of Libertarian Review, and editorial director of Laissez Faire Books. Libertarianism.org has published its first ebook, Anarchism and Justice, a collection of Roy’s essays on anarchism available in book form for the first time. And they’re posting never-before-seen videos, including this one on the history of the libertarian movement from the Cato Summer Seminar in Political Economy:

Today I posted my own reminiscences about Roy at the Libertarianism.org blog, Free Thoughts:

When I got involved in the tiny libertarian movement back in the early 1970s, I had the impression that its two leading intellectuals were Murray Rothbard and the much younger Roy Childs. Rand, Mises, and Hayek were out there as great thinkers; Milton Friedman was regarded with some skepticism as a “Chicagoite”; but the fledgling movement seemed centered around Rothbard and Childs….

In two stints as editor of Libertarian Review and as editor of Laissez Faire Books, Roy brought his keen insight and radical vision to a dazzling range of topics: the nature of rights, neoconservatism, foreign policy, Third World land reform, Iran, Ayn Rand’s influence on libertarianism, and much more. He seemed to have read everything and to know how it fit into his overall worldview. And he knew everybody. What fun it would be to read his correspondence – or better yet, listen to his phone calls – with Rothbard, Friedman, Nathaniel Branden, Barbara Branden, Thomas Szasz, and Robert Nozick. You can read his formal interviews with some of those people in the Libertarian Review archives….

Watch for more videos this week.

The ‘47 Percent’ and the Fundamental Attribution Error

There are a number of things wrong with Mitt Romney’s now infamous suggestion that the 47 percent of Americans who don’t pay federal income tax will automatically support larger government, because those “who are dependent upon government, who believe that they are victims, who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them” can never be persuaded to “take personal responsibility and care for their lives.” For one, as both Matt Yglesias and Ezra Klein note, the people who aren’t paying income tax are overwhelmingly either college-aged or elderly retirees who aren’t making much taxable income, not able-bodied layabouts in their 30s and 40s. In other words, they’re mostly not some distinct parasite class, but rather ordinary, hard-working people who either already have paid or will soon be paying quite substantial taxes.

The deeper mistake, however, is what social psychologists have dubbed the “fundamental attribution error”: the nigh universal human tendency to ascribe actions and outcomes to immutable personal characteristics rather than situational factors. We assume too quickly that someone behaves kindly or callously because they are a “kind person” or a “callous person”—yet research suggests that minor variations in circumstances can elicit either type of behavior from the very same people.

Presumably there are some people out there who really do just shun responsibility and think others should work to provide them with life’s necessities—but it’s hard to believe they’re more than a very tiny fraction of the millions who depend in some way on government benefits. Most of them are just responding rationally to the circumstances of the world they live in. In a society where young people know they’ll soon be taxed to support educational subsidies, of course they’ll accept the government college loans they’ll later be expected to fund. In a society where the payroll taxes that support a government pension system leave workers with 15.3 percent less in their paychecks to save and invest for old age, of course they’re going to rely heavily on the system they’ve been paying into when they retire. But to infer that this reveals something about people’s desire for big government is a little like wondering why 18th century Americans were so much fonder of agriculture than we are. People mostly live in the world that’s presented to them.

This is an equal opportunity observation, however. Progressives, after all, often make essentially the same fallacious argument as Romney, though usually not put quite as offensively: if you benefit from government largesse—whether in the form of direct supports like Social Security and Medicare, or because the state “generously” offers to spare your earnings through tax credits or deductions—then obviously you’re logically required to fall to your knees in gratitude, and you must be either confused or some kind of hypocrite if you perversely persist in supporting smaller government. Net recipients of government aid, in this view, ought to have the political commitments Romney wrongly ascribed to them.

All of this seems confused. People want goods like health care and financial security. In a social and political environment where those things are provided by government, people will accept them from government. In an environment where they’re provided by the private sector, people will acquire them privately. In the long run, the nature of the broader system will probably influence the frequency in the population of deeper character traits and dispositions like responsibility or resilience—but you can’t legitimately infer a whole lot about people’s preferences between systems from their behavior within systems.

Thomas Szasz, R.I.P.

The Cato Institute is sad to report the death of the trailblazing and iconoclastic critic of psychiatry Thomas Szasz, professor of psychiatry emeritus at the Health Science Center, State University of New York and Cato adjunct scholar. He was 92.

Szasz advocated for individual liberty from a substantially different point of view than most libertarian intellectuals. Rather than focusing on economic arguments or political philosophy, Szasz focused on personal responsibility and how the institutions and practices of modern psychiatry fundamentally undermine the rights and responsibilities of individuals.

In the 1950s and 60s, psychiatry was in a dark place. Thanks to movies like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, people are now aware of the profoundly disturbing practices that took place within the walls of mental institutions: lobotomies, electro-shock treatments, and involuntary medication. At the time, however, the practices were part of a profession that saw itself in a golden age. The emerging science of the brain disorders—which had been neatly categorized in the first edition, 1952, of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-I)—seemed to promise the slow systemization and categorization of divergent behaviors into a predictable and scientific study of human behavior. Vague words like “neurosis” and “psychosis” were casually thrown about by doctors as objective classifications. If a doctor deemed someone to be “neurotic,” then he could be involuntary committed and subjected to the aforementioned tortures.

In some ways, this “golden age” of psychiatry parallels the false “golden ages” of other disciplines—times when too much knowledge was presumed and too much power granted. The command and control economies of the 20th century are an obvious example: Brilliant people “cracked the code” of the economy and all they needed for a more rational social order was better data and more control. Such overestimations of knowledge often precede claims for broader power. In some sense, Szasz’s war against psychiatry can be viewed in the same light as Hayek’s war against planned economies: an opposition to state-backed conglomerations of power masquerading under the pretense of knowledge.

The psychiatry profession has a lot of power. They can exonerate murderers by deeming them insane. They can institutionalize people against their will. And they do this all based on the trust the “system” has in their subjective determination of what is or is not an aberrant behavior.

Szasz had a problem with this system. As he wrote in the in the preface to the 50th anniversary edition of his most famous book, The Myth of Mental Illness:

I insisted that mental hospitals are like prisons, not hospitals; that involuntary mental hospitalization is a type of imprisonment, not medical care; and that coercive psychiatrists function as judges and jailers, not healers. I suggested that we view and understand “mental illnesses” and psychiatric responses to them as matters of law and rhetoric, not matters of medicine and science…If all “conditions” now called “mental illnesses” proved to be brain diseases, there would be no need for the notion of mental illness and the term would become devoid of meaning. However, because the term refers to judgments of some persons about the (bad) behaviors of other persons, the opposite is what actually happens: the history of psychiatry is the history of an ever-expanding list of “mental disorders.”

To expand on why Szasz believed mental illness to be a “myth”: If we call someone “mentally ill” without reference to a physical brain disorder but only as a “problem” with her behavior, then we are describing something that is difficult, if not impossible, to objectively quantify. We must invoke some norm to make our diagnosis more than a subjective opinion about “divergent” behavior. If homosexuality is a mental illness, then the norm of heterosexuality is presumed. If marital infidelity is a mental illness, then the norm of fidelity is presumed. Without any appeal an objective criterion we will inevitably institutionalize people based on our opinions about their personalities. As Szasz says, the obvious question always arises: “What kinds of behavior are regarded as indicative of mental illness, and by whom?”

Perhaps the most famous example of misusing the term “mental illness” is drapetomania, or “runaway slave syndrome.” But drapetomania was not the first misuse of mental illness, nor would it be the last. Szasz’s unique contribution to psychiatry was to continually refocus the question on whether there is a scientific, objective basis for asserting that certain “kinds of behavior are regarded as indicative of mental illness.” His unique contribution to libertarian thought was to focus on personal responsibility as the proper response to claims of “mental illness,” to be concerned about the involuntary incarceration of the “mentally ill” as an immoral deprivation of liberty, and to criticize the state as the most significant “whom” that defines mental illness.

Because of this focus on the state’s effect on social and scientific areas, rather than in just the economic and philosophical realms, Szasz’s work encourages libertarians to look to broader social criticisms of government. Szasz wisely questioned the implications of letting the government define “mental illness” and trusting the political forces that affect those determinations. As he wrote in The Myth of Mental Illness, “Debate about what counts as mental illness has been replaced by legislation about the medicalization and demedicalization of behavior. Old diseases such as homosexuality and hysteria disappear, while new diseases such as gambling and smoking appear, as if to replace them.”

There is something profoundly unsettling about the state having any say in defining “normality.” The state is never a passive player in these situations. Government officials have concerns and interests of their own that can fundamentally distort the perception of mental illness and “divergent” behavior. And, perhaps most importantly, the state has vast amounts of money it can use to fund research and institutions that skew the playing field in its favor. The medicalization of Attention Deficit Disorder in American public schools is perhaps the best recent example of this phenomenon. In retrospect, the mass overdiagnosis of ADD seems the inevitable result of a recalcitrant and monolithic public school system combined with a state-backed mental health establishment obsessed with psychopharmacology.

Despite the scathing criticism given to the book-length version of The Myth of Mental Illness (1961), Szasz’s critiques were arguably at the forefront of major changes in psychiatry that followed. Although many current psychology students have not heard of Szasz, they have assuredly read about the famous Rosenhan experiment. As documented in the essay “On Being Sane in Insane Places” (highly recommended), the Rosenhan experiment had eight sane, normal people admit themselves to mental institutions complaining of auditory hallucinations. They were then told to behave normally and try to convince the doctors that they were, in fact, sane. This proved nearly impossible to do. All behaviors were immediately categorized as manifestations their subjectively diagnosed “neuroses.” Moreover, whereas many of the other patients sensed that the subjects were planted there, the doctors could not be convinced.

As a result of Szasz’s work, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, the Rosenhan experiment, and other work, American mental hospitals are no longer the horrific institutions of the 1950s. But things aren’t too much better. The most disturbing development is the total politicization of the mental health profession. As Szasz wrote in 2011:

Since that time [1961], the formerly sharp distinctions between medical hospitals and mental hospitals, voluntary and involuntary mental patients, and private and public psychiatry have blurred into nonexistence. Virtually all medical and mental health care is now the responsibility of and is regulated by the federal government, and its cost is paid, in full or part, by the federal government. In short, psychiatry is medicalized, through and through. The opinion of official American psychiatry, embodied in the American Psychiatric Association, contains the imprimatur of the federal and state governments.

Even as his scientific studies slowly go out of date, Szasz’s work will always underscore the fact that the state does not only control, it distorts. Sometimes it distorts so much that the world starts to look, well, kind of insane.

He will be missed.

For more, see Szasz’s 2003 address at the Cato Institute: Are Libertarian Principles and Psychiatric Practices: Are They Compatible?, and the Libertarianism.org lectures On Psychiatry and Religion and On Socialism and Health Care. Also, find more on Szasz at Reason here.

Ronald Hamowy and the Lion’s Dentist

As David Boaz has written, we mourn this weekend’s loss of one of the great libertarian scholars, Ronald Hamowy, a historian of scintillating erudition, acute judgment, and formidable breadth of interests. Bryan Caplan has an appreciation that includes a Liberty Fund link to the entire online run of the Hamowy-edited New Individualist Review (1961-68), by common consent the best libertarian student journal ever, and notes also the friendly intellectual quarrel that eventually arose between Hamowy and one of his own mentors, Friedrich von Hayek.

Hayek in his social theorizing didn’t always get everything right, but his fellow advocates of liberty weren’t always keen to point that out in print, for the same reason that there are few volunteers to perform dentistry on the lion. But if anyone can perform the delicate operation without fear of the jaws snapping shut, it is one who knows as of instinct how the lion thinks. Such was Hamowy, whose commitment to individual liberty was if anything more ardent than Hayek’s own, and who as a specialist in the Scottish enlightenment of Adam Smith, David Hume and Adam Ferguson had thought long and deeply about the conditions under which spontaneous orders emerge and freedom can generate successful social complexity.

Here is Daniel Klein, reviewing a 2005 volume in which Hamowy takes issue deftly with the master on several issues notably (from my perspective) including the evolution of law:

The final critical essay concerns Hayek’s tale of the common law. Hayek’s idea of spontaneous order is most prominently applied to the complex workings of the economy — “the incredible bread machine” — but also finds application in the evolution of customs, language, law, and science. Hayek was keen to show the viability of capturing a dynamic system of law under the conceptual umbrella of spontaneous order. In making his case, he portrayed the English common law as such a system. Hamowy looks hard at the history and character of English common law, and concludes that Hayek’s historic tale fails on two counts: first, its substance was not all that libertarian, and second, its evolution was not all that spontaneous. Hamowy advises us against citing the English common law as an example of spontaneous-order law.

Hamowy’s scholarship was full of such unexpected, fearless, and provocative acts of judgment.

Is Government like Immigrants?

In his speech last night, President Obama listed a lot of groups of people whom we shouldn’t blame for “all our problems”:

We don’t think the government can solve all our problems. But we don’t think that the government is the source of all our problems, any more than are welfare recipients, or corporations, or unions, or immigrants, or gays, or any other group we’re told to blame for our troubles.

He’s right to discourage scapegoating. But there’s a category error here. Government is not just a group of people distinguished by their place of birth, or sexual orientation, or economic organization. Government is defined by its power to use force to achieve its purposes. Gays and immigrants don’t have such power. Neither do corporations or unions or welfare recipients.

No one blames governments for “all our problems.” Indeed, libertarians should be the first to remember, as Dr. Johnson told us,

How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!

But the introduction of force into human relationships does cause many problems. Taxes reduce incentives and distort decisions, not to mention limiting our freedom. Government spending likewise distorts economic decisions. Government regulation impels people to expend resources in ways that don’t best serve consumer desires. Central bank manipulation of the money supply introduces massive distortions into economic decisionmaking, often bringing about cycles of boom and bust. Drug prohibition, conscription, tariffs, punitive taxes, the exclusion of people from social and economic life on the basis of their race or gender or religion or sexual orientation—a large part of the activities of modern governments do cause many of our problems.

So President Obama is right to warn us against blaming our problems on “any other group,” just as President Clinton was right to warn us in his own acceptance speech 20 years ago not to blame “them—Them, the minorities. Them, the liberals. Them, the poor. Them, the homeless. Them, the people with disabilities. Them, the gays.” But blaming government is not equivalent to that kind of scapegoating.

When we “blame government,” we’re doing two things:

1. We’re pointing to specific policies that caused problems such as the financial crisis or prohibition-related crime or failing public schools.

2. We’re blaming the process of government, which necessarily involves coercion, predation, politicization, the diversion of resources to less-valued uses, and thus a reduced standard of living.

That’s not scapegoating. It’s analysis. It’s economics, history, political theory, and sociology.

Theory and Practice in the Austrian School

This month’s Cato Unbound looks at the Austrian school of economics. Specifically, how do Austrian insights apply to the “real” world—not just theory, but economic history and policy?

In his lead essay, Professor Steven Horwitz argues that Austrian economists are making important and under-appreciated empirical contributions. The Austrian school even stands to teach mainstream economics a good deal about how to conduct empirical work and interpret it properly.

To discuss with Horwitz, we have invited three other distinguished economists, each of whom has been influenced by the Austrian school—while ultimately settling elsewhere methodologically: Bryan Caplan, George A. Selgin, and Antony Davies.

As always, Cato Unbound readers are encouraged to take up our themes, and enter into the conversation on their own websites and blogs, or on other venues. We also welcome your letters. Send them to jkuznicki at cato dot org. Selections may be published at the editors’ option.