April 11, 2010

Bristol Palin and American Class Consciousness

Posted in America, Feminism and Gender Equality, Politics, Society at 7:02 pm by Paul Sagar

Turning away from the tedium of British electioneering, cast your eyes to the ever stranger circus of American politics. As we all know, abortion and teen sex are enormously politicised issues over the pond. So perhaps not a surprise that Bristol Palin – daughter of Sarah – has joined a campaign to discourage teen pregnancy. She knows all about it, I suppose. What with getting pregnant at 17. Whilst umarried.

Actually, I’m not all that hostile to the Palin advert. The Young Turks are going for the jugular, but I’m not overly bothered about Bristol’s potential hypocrisy. Perhaps it could be interpreted as a hypocritical lecture of “I’ve had sex, but you fools can’t”. Alternatively, it could more charitably be viewed as helpful advice from somebody who’s learned from their own mistakes. Personally, I’m sanguine on this front.

And I’d have more of a problem with the campaign if the organisation Palin is working with was one of the more offensive outfits. The sort that promote abstinence only approaches to teen sex, in a country where abortion has been made effectively impossible for the poor in many states and where ignorance of contraception leads to unwanted pregnancies and sexual disease when young people (almost) inevitably give in to temptation. But The Candies Foundation is apparently not so hardline: their website explicitly names the use of condoms as a core campaign message.

Of course, the Candies’ focus on preventing teen pregnancy – and focusing, it seems, especially on teen girls – is one that I’m not entirely comfortable with. As I’ve said before, teen pregnancy is not bad per se and it’s worth thinking about why Anglophone societies exhibit such hysteria over the issue. But compared to the wingnut state of much American politics – especially when it comes to sex – Candies appears relatively inoffensive.

What I find far more interesting is the specific advert itself. For it potentially tells us something remarkable about American politics. The pitch that Palin explicitly makes is that getting pregnant wasn’t too bad for her – after all, she is from a rich and famous family. For those from poorer backgrounds the story will be very different.

Will this campaign work? The organisers must think so. But success requires that intended viewers do not respond with a well-considered “fuck you Bristol”. Their reaction must not be one of feeling patronised or lectured-to by the privileged daughter of a celebrity politician. They must take her words as the sound wisdom of experience, despite the fact that the core message is “don’t have sex and get pregnant if you’re poor“.

Perhaps the campaign organisers are off-target and this will be contemptuously laughed at by American teens. Certainly it seems unlikely that a mere advert can encourage hormone-swamped teens to self-deny. But if that’s not the case – if young poor Americans don’t blink at being lectured over their sexual choices with direct reference to their socio-economic circumstances, by the extremely privileged offspring of a wealthy public figure – then this may be a remarkable testament to the fabled lack of American class consciousness.

March 25, 2010

I’m Glad I’m Not American

Posted in America at 8:08 pm by Paul Sagar

One does have to wonder if Fox News and the Republican Party’s chickens are coming home to roost.

Nice of Sarah Palin to have a map of the USA, with cross-hairs on the states that supported healthcare reform. Just in case you missed her message, she tweeted it: “Don’t Retreat, Instead – RELOAD.”

Barak Obama is a brave man.

Remember: One lone nut got to Abraham Lincoln. One lone nut got to JFK. One lone nut got to Reagan and was unlucky not to succeed.*

It only takes one lone nut. My guess is that, right now, there are a great many nuts – lone or otherwise – laying their plans. Which casts Ms Palin’s remarks in an altogether more sinister and macabre light.

The horrible, thick, backwards, redneck bitch.

* No conspiracy comments. Please. I can’t be bothered.

March 22, 2010

Teabaggers

Posted in America at 2:00 pm by Paul Sagar

As everyone will now know, healthcare reform has been achieved in America. The bill doesn’t go as far as many hoped, but I think it’s important to recall the bizarre political context of contemporary America, the fierce opposition Obama encountered, and the pusillanimous behaviour of right-wing Democrats which threatened to scupper the bill completely.

Not perfect, but a big step forward. Given that Obama’s presidency would have been dead in the water if this bill had failed – and given that it puts clear distance between the (loyal) Democrats and Republicans – this event may well turn out to be a watershed in US politics. It’s been 30 years since Reagan took that country in a markedly right-wing direction after around 40 years of more left-liberal tendencies. We’re due for a swing back to the side of sanity, and it may have just begun.

Of course, not everybody will be pleased. Glenn Beck might already be dead from apoplexy, which risks leaving his fanatical “tea partiers” leaderless. Indeed, one can only hope. For without Beck (and his ilk) to whip them into a frenzy, will right-wing Americans continue to tolerate – or worse, participate – in behaviour such as this?

March 14, 2010

Intelligent Libertarians, Regulation and Financial Crisis: An Essay

Posted in America, Economics, History, Intellectual History, Nerd Posts, Political Philosophy, Politics, Society at 10:31 pm by Paul Sagar

Below is an essay – I think it’s fair to call it that – arguing that intelligent libertarians should favour regulation of the financial industry.

I’m looking for responses from sensible libertarians, liberals, and leftists of all stripes. I’m sick of abuse-hurling and tribal partisan sloganeering. Ideas are best refined when they are forced to clash.

In this weekend’s Financial Times there was a fascinating series of articles on the collapse of Lehman Brothers following the release of the 2,200 page Valukas report into the investment bank’s failure. It transpires that Lehman was employing extremely dubious financial instruments for months before its eventual bankruptcy, in order to disguise the appalling state of its balance sheets. Using practices similar to those “pioneered” by Enron, Lehman was able to disguise its ill health from investors and creditors. Now that the truth is out, Lehman’s auditors Ernst & Young have come under intense scrutiny for waving-through Lehman’s practices, invoking the spectre of Andersen Accounting and its post-Enron demise.

The case of Lehman appears to show that if “light touch” regulation is applied to financial institutions, at least some of the lightly touched will self-destruct. It’s important to stress that Lehman wasn’t brought down by greed (though there’s little doubt that Lehman bankers, like most investment bankers, were greedy). It was brought down by the firm’s over-exposure and over-dependence on complex financial instruments that ultimately couldn’t be sustained.

There are many reactions to the story of Lehman. But I want to explore and develop just two, although I’m going to have to start by simplifying. The first is the standard response from most on the left: that Lehman should have been subjected to greater regulation. Call this the Sensible Statist position. This group claims that had Lehman been better regulated, it would not have been able to over-expose itself and become over-reliant upon financial instruments that generated short-term profit but in the long term led to implosion. By being reigned reined-in during the short term, the bank would have survived into the long term.

The other response I want to examine is what I will call the “Intelligent Libertarian” view. Again I am simplifying. The Intelligent Libertarian argues that if Lehman over-exposed itself, then tough luck for Lehman. It was not only right that it was eventually allowed to fail – it was right that it was allowed to get itself into a position where it could fail. Intelligent Libertarians believe that capitalism is a game you play at your own risk. Accordingly, financial markets should be totally de-regulated. Those firms that, like Lehman, over-expose themselves will fail. That’s the harsh reality of capitalism. But it’s not all bad: those firms that survive will be those that don’t over-expose themselves, the ones that make the right moves and the right gambles. The best will survive – and the rest, wanting to compete with the best, will emulate the activities and practices that have proven successful.

Yet straight away we must complicate the picture. Lehman’s failure was not an isolated case of one investment bank over-exposing itself and failing, indicating that it was a worse-run business than its competitors and thus deserved to die by the sword of capitalist competition. Those sorts of bank failures happen all the time – but Lehman was different. Lehman’s collapse was part of a systemic failure in the banking system. All the world’s financial institutions were circling the plug hole. Lehman was allowed to go, but when the US Fed (and the UK Treasury, and the ECB) realised that all the rest of the world’s investment banks, insurance providers, hedge funds, building societies and brokers were going to go too, action was taken. Following the lead of Hank Paulson and George W. Bush, trillion dollar bailouts were announced. The world’s banks became socialised, and capitalism was turned on its head.

What do our Sensible Statists and Intelligent Libertarians have to say about this? There are two areas we need to consider: whether the bailouts were justified, and whether the crisis would have been averted if the world of finance had been subjected to more thorough-going regulation. The argument I am going to make, however, is that the two issues are intimately connected, and as a consequence Intelligent Libertarians should end up backing greater and better regulation of the financial industry. I’ll start off by examining only the arguments about whether the 2008 bailouts were themselves justified.

Sensible Statists have always offered a resounding “yes” to this question. The argument they put forward is clear and compelling: that a collapse in the global banking system would have caused unimaginable, unprecedented chaos. If the banks had failed, then all bets would have been off. Not only would cash have ceased to come out of ATMs, the very wheels of capitalism would have stopped turning. Panic would have swept the developed world, riots would have begun, governments would have collapsed, and an entirely new era of human civilization – or lack of it – would have ensued. This, Sensible Statists say, was not a price worth paying. Trillion-dollar bailouts with taxpayer money, plunging Western governments into unimaginable debts, were the cost that had (and have) to be endured.

Intelligent Libertarians disagree. They argued – and have argued consistently – that the price of the bailout was too high; not just in terms of taxpayer dollars, but in terms of the perversion of the very essence of the capitalism which has made the west rich and free. Intelligent Libertarians do not deny that a banking collapse would have been painful – indeed, horribly so. But they argue that growing out of this pain a new order of capitalism would have emerged. Drawing upon the ideas of seminal 20th Century philosopher and economist Joseph Schumpeter in particular, Intelligent Libertarians might argue that if the banks had failed, this would have led to the much-needed process of “creative destruction”. The old order would have fallen – but a new and better one would have risen in its place, one that learned the mistakes of the past and built on them to improve. Instead – the Intelligent Libertarian points out – what happened was that western states merged with the banks. A nightmare vision thus arose. The already out-of-control behemoth corporate institutions that strangle competition and free enterprise (what genuine free market capitalism depends upon in order to be a force for good) were married with the power of modern states. Diabolical hybrids were born: financial institutions that are not only too big too fail and can thus commit economic sins with impunity, but which are propped-up by the tax-dollars of ordinary people, and maintained by the coercive power of the state. For the Intelligent Libertarians, the 2008 bailouts heralded a nightmare vision of capitalism twisted beyond recognition into something hideous.

There is much to be said for the Intelligent Libertarians’ concern at the mutant offspring of states and megacorps that has emerged from the world financial crisis. Witness the spectre of RBS. Operating like a private investment bank, RBS pays its executives billions in bonuses, funds the extracting of Canadian tar sands oil (which climate scientists describe as one of the biggest single factors likely to facilitate run-away climate change) and refuses to lend to struggling businesses. All the while it has a taxpayer guarantee that it cannot fail should it make poor market decisions, and its debts are backed by the coercive power of the British State. Intelligent Libertarians are right to sound the alarm bells at the rise of such entities.

Yet what has happened as a result of the bailouts is a different issue from whether the bailouts should have happened. As outlined above, Intelligent Libertarians do not think that the immense pain of a global capitalist collapse should have been suffered for the fun of it. Rather, they see it as the necessary though unpleasant price to pay for an improved world order. But are they right?

The Intelligent Libertarian world-view looks, quite simply, untenable. We already have examples of what happens when capitalism fails – and they’re not pretty. The obvious case study is, of course, Weimar Germany. When hyperinflation, extended depression and mass unemployment took hold, ordinary Germans did not call for more capitalism. They looked for solutions in Hitler’s National Socialists, who promised authoritarian routes out of crisis that bred not only the horrors of global war and the Holocaust, but precisely the sought of state-corporate gangster capitalism that Intelligent Libertarians abhor. (It may be worth reminding Intelligent Libertarians that their bete noir John Maynard Keynes developed his theories in order to save capitalism from the twin threats of fascism and communism at a time when liberal capitalist democracy looked like it was about to kick the bucket).

But we need not rely solely on such dramatic and emotive examples. Think of Britain in the 1970s and 80s. In the midst of dire economic straits, many Britons did not call for more free market liberalisation. Thatcher’s reforms were unpopular and pushed through only because Labour dove so far into the hard left that it could mount no meaningful opposition, whilst the power of the state was employed to crush organised labour. During the 1970s and 80s, the National Front thrived – by offering extremist solutions to an extreme situation (making Nick Griffin’s present BNP look positively wet). Indeed, look at Britain today: when the economy struggles and jobs are scarce, ordinary people do not call for more free market capitalism. They call for protectionist policies to defend home industry (think Cadbury) and for draconian impositions on migrant labour (think Daily Mail).

Intelligent Libertarians may want to argue that such responses in ordinary people are wrongheaded and ultimately self-destructive. Perhaps they are right. But this reply misses the point. In times of large-scale capitalist crisis, political movements develop that are deeply antithetical to the free market capitalism that Intelligent Libertarians espouse. Even if Intelligent Libertarians are right that if left to itself the market would recover from a global capitalist crash to produce a better form of capitalism, the problem is that the market will never be left to itself in such circumstances. Following a global crash of the sort envisaged had the 2008 bailouts been denied, extremist groups seizing control of nation-states on the promise of never allowing capitalism to rise again would have been far more likely than a short spell of pain followed by rational economic actors diligently picking up the pieces. The alternative universe in which the bailouts were denied has tanks on the streets, with people and nations falling back into state communism and fascism. If the bail-outs had not happened, state-minimalist capitalism would have been the last thing to emerge.

Thus the Intelligent Libertarian claim that the bailouts should have been denied, and the pain endured, looks misguided. I now, however, want to take a brief detour and examine some of the intellectual history around questions of state intervention in times of extreme emergency.

Many Intelligent Libertarians will look to Adam Smith as an important intellectual forbearer. And in many cases, they are justified in doing so. In particular, Smith’s Wealth of Nations addressed – amongst many other things – a central question in the history of the development of property rights: whether the law concerning property rights ceases to apply to desperate individuals in times of extreme necessity. Previous thinkers like Hobbes hard argued that the law does so cease: if a person is starving and the only way they can survive is to steal a loaf of bread, then they are automatically excused from breaking the law. In such a case – Hobbes thought – the law could have no purchase; it ceased to have meaning and excuse was automatically conferred on the law-breaker. Law’s function, in Hobbes’ schema, was to protect all of our rights to survive; if the law stood between an individual and the loaf of bread they needed to carry on living, then the law ceased to have meaningful content. Violation of the property rights of the bread-holder were thus automatically justified, and the violator was automatically excused (though the law against bread-stealing would itself stay in place due to its general tendency to promote the wellbeing of all, considered collectively and systemically).

Smith disagreed. For him, property rights had to be enforced as foundational to the jurisprudential structure of society, and they had to apply in all cases. If a starving man stole a loaf of bread to survive, then he broke the law. Now, if apprehended and taken to court for such law-breaking, a judge might consider the circumstances and offer clemency to the bread thief whilst still finding him guilty. The point, however, is that the law continued to apply – but in this case, punishment might be forestalled on the grounds of extenuating circumstance (the bread thief, after all, was starving). Whereas for Hobbes the law against stealing bread ceased to have meaningful content because the bread-thief was starving, for Smith the law continued to apply (a violation of the bread-owners legal property rights had certainly occurred) but punishment for this violation might be mitigated by a sympathetic judge. Though equally it might not. (However, given what Smith says in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, it seems that he would personally have hoped that judges be sympathetic in such cases).

As a result, Smith made property rights foundational. They became, indeed, the central supporting pillar of his vision of (broadly) free-market commercial society. And it’s Smith’s vision that we have embraced. Steal a loaf of bread today and – even if you are starving – the authorities will still charge you with theft. If you are lucky, the magistrate will let you off with a slap on the wrist when you go to court – but then, she may not. Thus, the centrality of continuing absolute property rights – as envisaged by Smith and his natural law forbearers like Grotius, Pufendorf and Locke – goes to the heart of modern capitalist society. And insofar as Intelligent Libertarians uphold the inviolability of property rights, they are indeed following Adam Smith.

Yet perhaps many Intelligent Libertarians would be interested to know that Smith did not consider the same rules to apply from the perspective of the state. Whilst individuals were always bound by the rules of property, as enshrined in law, the state was sui generis. Here Smith followed his friend and intellectual interlocutor, the great philosopher and economist David Hume. Hume had argued that, in times of extreme national emergency, the government must do whatever was required to save the nation. Under ordinary circumstances it would of course be wrong for the government to burn the suburbs of the capital city – but if that was the only way to prevent the enemy’s approach then it must be done.

As Istvan Hont, the world’s most pre-eminent authority on the foundations of modern political economy has remarked:

“Hume had taken it for granted that magistrates had the right to open private granaries and distribute grain to the poor at set prices, not merely in a situation of actual starvation, but ‘even in less urgent necessities’. He had used this example to argue that ‘the rules of equity or justice depend entirely on the particular state and condition in which men are placed’. In situations of ‘extreme necessity’ it was ‘perfectly useless’ to insist on maintaining an unlimited right of private property. Smith followed this line, but seems to have closed off the case of ‘less urgent’ necessities. Only actual impending starvation appears to qualify as the ‘case of most urgent necessity’ which would justify the suspension of property rights in grain.”

Istvan Hont, “Needs and Justice in Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations”, in Jealousy of Trade, (Harvard, 2005).

(Grain was a favoured 18th Century example, because fluctuations in the grain price and in extreme cases the lack of grain itself could cause riots amongst the common people that had the potential to topple governments).

The point is that for Smith, from the perspective of the state, extreme necessity justifies suspension of the law regarding property rights. If the only way to hold a nation together was for the state to violate the property rights of individual grain holders then so be it. Salus populi suprema lex est – the safety of the people is the supreme law.

It is interesting therefore to note that when George W. Bush announced the 2008 bailout, he invoked the safety of the American Republic as his justification. The threat to national security was deemed so extreme that the normal rules of capitalism were suspended: salus populi suprema lex. Bush was, therefore, acting within the Smithian tradition. So it is worth Intelligent Libertarians reflecting upon their own intellectual heritage. Whilst the 2008 bailouts might jar with their ordinary preferences for state minimalism, it is not inconsistent – or necessarily unprincipled – for them to agree that desperate times call for desperate measures. Smith would, I think, have supported the 2008 bailouts, albeit grudgingly.

So Intelligent Libertarians need not – by virtue of their ideological principles – be committed to opposing concerted state intervention in times of extreme emergency. And given the likely consequences of not undertaking such a bailout in 2008 – namely, the collapse of global capitalism and the rise of something much nastier in its place – Intelligent Libertarians should think hard about that, in terms of their own long-term ideals and goals.

It is now time to return to the issue I earlier put aside: the question of general regulation of the financial system. I promised that this would connect up to the question of the 2008 bail-out, so let me now draw that connection.

Whilst some Intelligent Libertarians – such as Jeffrey Friedman – have argued that the crisis which broke in 2008 was a crisis caused by the wrong sort of government regulation (even if it was extremely minimal) and would have been averted had there been even less regulation, what the 2008 crash ultimately seems to have shown is that systems fail. And they can fail spectacularly. In her book Fools’ Gold, FT editor Gillian Tett demonstrates that the crisis was certainly not caused by greedy bankers deliberately bringing down the global financial system whilst stroking white cats and chortling evilly. Rather, the crisis arose because many interdependent actors all pursued actions which were individually rational, but when summed-together added up to catastrophe. Yet a key problem that Tett identifies is that not only were the new financial instruments developed by the world’s biggest banks unregulated – they were barely understood by the people using them. Furthermore, the bosses and senior managers of the people inventing and manipulating new financial instruments were largely ignorant about what their subordinates were doing (and in most cases frankly uninterested in, so long as the cash kept rolling in). Accordingly, the world financial system kept on accelerating towards lightspeed – until one day it fell off a cliff.

Now, even if someone like Friedman is right that the 2008 crash was caused (in part) by the wrong sort of regulation, one thing that doesn’t seem to follow is that crashes would be averted if there was no government regulation. What Tett ably brings out is the fact that systems can fail – and the more complicated and fast-moving those systems are, the more spectacular and devastating those failures can be. There are some libertarians – let’s call them the Unreflective Libertarians – who will claim that a financial system devoid of any government regulation will never fail, and that only government attempts at regulation cause crisis.

Yet this sort of Unreflective Libertarianism is untenable. This is because it’s a piece of sheer dogma. The idea that the market can never fail because it is the market, and that financial crashes are only caused by government meddling, is crass ideological rhetoric motivated not be consideration of the facts or of history, but by blanket hatred of government. It’s simply ludicrous to claim – as the Unreflective Libertarian must – that the law of unintended consequences can be avoided by simply removing one actor (i.e. the state). As Tett demonstrates, the 2008 financial crisis arose because of interconnected actions which, whilst individually harmless, were collectively disastrous. To say that free markets are not vulnerable to such phenomena simply because they are free markets, is to employ the most mentally-crippling of ideological frameworks.

However, coming at things from the other angle, there does seem to be a case for some government regulation of financial markets – and certainly more than was in operation prior to 2008. It is surely not insignificant that the Wall Street Crash occurred during a period of relatively low financial regulation. Nor that following the Reagan-Thatcher era of financial deregulation we have witnessed major financial crises in South East Asia, Russia, and Latin America, the bursting of the dot-com bubble, and the great crash of 2008. Indeed, concerning the latter Tett is again instructive: if senior managers and regulators had even possessed the barest clue about what derivatives traders were actually up to – and had imposed measures to slow down the pace of financial innovation – then it’s possible that investment banks and insurance companies like AIG would not have been able to build up the “super senior” debt that went toxic over 2007-8 when credit lines ran dry, eventually bringing the global system to its knees.

Which is not to say that government regulation universally prevents financial crises. That would be wrong, and also to commit the sin for which I criticise the Unreflective Libertarians. Yet it does seem to be the case that whilst government regulation cannot eliminate financial crises, it can certainly mitigate their frequency and devastation if done sensibly. In turn, that makes the need for 2008-style mass bailouts less likely.

Which brings us full circle. Although I hope to have shown that there are good grounds for why Intelligent Libertarians ought to be able to endorse drastic state intervention in times of extreme necessity, no Intelligent Libertarian would want to make a habit of it. Indeed, neither would any Sensible Statist. We’ll be picking up the pieces from the 2008 bailout for decades to come, even if we only start to feel it after the next government begins the deficit-slashing.

A 2008-style bailout has to be – for Intelligent Libertarians – something which can be resorted to only in times of extreme desperation. Accordingly, it is surely better if we collectively undertake measures to prevent the need arising for such extreme measures. How do we do that? We regulate financial markets.

Thus it appears that if Intelligent Libertarians are to avoid having to resort to the sorts of mass government intervention that they despise – or likewise avoid advocating the collapse of global capitalism on the fantasy-land justification that a new Capitalist Utopia will inevitably arise in its place – they would do well to endorse regulation of the financial industry. Of course, Intelligent Libertarians won’t like this. But then, in politics and life we all often have to do things we don’t like. And in case Sensible Statists are feeling smug, they should recall that deregulated financial capitalism brought an unprecedented 15 years of sustained economic growth to Britain, vastly improving the lives of millions. Increased regulation would mean less super-growth capitalism, and that would have negative impacts upon all our lives too (though we might think that’s the price to pay for avoiding extended economic depressions caused by financial crashes).

So it seems that there are good grounds for thinking that Intelligent Libertarians ought to support some regulation of the financial industry (exactly how much is a question for extended debate – yet given the above I suspect the answer is “more than what Reagan and Thatcher left us with”). And if hyper-capitalist Libertarians must accept this, then it seems that anybody thinking sensibly about the issues at play will have to agree (you can’t really get more pro-free market than a Libertarian, after all). So when Giles Wilkes – chief economist of the liberal think tank Centre:Forum – criticised Intelligent Libertarian Johan Norberg’s book Financial Fiasco and urged him “to recognise that government, very occasionally, offers the best way to protect the economic liberty so precious to the author”, I would go further than Wilkes. It is not just “very occasional” government intervention that Intelligent Libertarians should reconcile themselves to, but – and on their own ideological grounds – sustained and well-considered routine regulation of financial markets.

There is, however, the lingering problem touched upon earlier: the mutant offspring sired by state-power and gigantic corporate failure. The 2008 bailouts happened, and those entities now exist. This is a problem. Whilst it might seem straightforward – at least, post 2008 – to criticise hardline free marketers for their views, Intelligent Libertarians are nonetheless absolutely correct to ring alarm bells about the new monsters of socialised corporatism that the bailouts have awakened. These new entities take us into virgin territory in the development of economics and political economy. The deep suspicion and hostility espoused by Intelligent Libertarians towards these behemoths of socialised corporatism are feelings that we ought all to share – whatever else we might disagree about.

March 5, 2010

On Springsteen

Posted in America, Media, Music, Politics at 8:00 am by Paul Sagar

When I tell people that Bruce Springsteen is one of my favourite artists, the usual reaction is confusion. “How can you listen to that godawful I Love The American Dream redneck crap?” is a common British reaction. For Americans, it’s more often of the form “Sorry, I only listen to good music”.

This can leave me feeling exasperated. Springsteen, after all, is an artist with far more depth and nuance than stereotypes about glorifying American Greatness allow for. One only need think of the bizarre memoirs of a serial killer in Nebraska to get that far. But more than that, Springsteen songs often give voice to the downtrodden, hard-working but never-gonna-make it ordinary people. The working guy who puts in his hours and drinks at the bar with his buddies on Fridays – drinking to forget that it’s the system that screws him over.

Songs like The Ghost of Tom Joad, Downbound Train, The Wrestler or Youngstown capture the desperation of those left behind by capitalist progress. Johnny 99 and Jungleland follow the fates of those pushed into illegality by social and economic systems over which one has no control. Even up-beat songs like Glory Days are laced with overtones of regret and lost opportunity, whilst the inspirational Thunder Road or Born to Run are day-dream fantasies about escaping the monotony of dead-end small town life.

Even Springsteen’s signature song – usually taken as a balls-out statement of unthinking patriotism – holds more than first meets the ear. Born in the USA is, after all, about being born in a “dead man’s town”, sent to Vietnam to avoid prison, and returning to unemployment, marginalisation and “the shadow of the penitentiary”.

I had a brother at Khe Sahn/
Fighting off the Vietcong/
They’re still there, he’s all gone/
He had a woman he loved in Saigon/
I got a picture of him in her arms now/

But then, Springsteen doesn’t exactly have his bad reputation by complete chance. After all, Born in the USA was used by Ronald Reagan as his campaign theme tune – and Springsteen raised no apparent objection. The album cover for Born is hardly an indictment of American failings, and has much more of a rally-round-the-flag feel.

And many Springsteen songs are not political at all. Darlington County, The E Street Shuffle, Radio Nowhere or the divise Outlaw Pete are simple songs to get you tapping your foot and forgetting about the day job.* Because ultimately, Springsteen is a business man.

He’s not afraid to make political points when it suits him – but he’s an entertainer and his main aim is to shift units. Springsteen knows that whilst his songs can hit a political note with those union guys who vote Democratic, the Republican-voting truck drivers can punch the air to Badlands too. After all, you don’t end up doing the Superbowl half-time show if you isolate half of America.

But then, all credit to the man. I imagine there’s not many things that can unite me and an Alabama redneck, but Springsteen is one of them. Maybe that’s why they call him The Boss.

All together now:

The highways jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive/
Everybody’s out on the run tonight but there’s no place left to hide/
Together Wendy well live with the sadness/
I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul
(Oh!)/
Someday girl I don’t know when were gonna get to that place/
Where we really want to go and well walk in the sun/
But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run/

Fade out with the Sax…

* Not that I have one. But you get my point.

Pointless trivia: Acording to Chris Brooke, the Oxford University Politics, Philosophy and Economics admissions exam once asked:

‘ “Is a dream a lie, if it don’t come true, or is it something else?” [SPRINGSTEEN]. Discuss.’

Priceless.

February 27, 2010

Pop Quiz

Posted in America, Politics at 8:00 am by Paul Sagar

Which American politician previously uttered these lines before being elected?

“I was always dreaming about very powerful people, dictators and things like that. I was just always impressed by people who could be remembered for hundreds of years, or even, like Jesus, be for thousands of years remembered.”

“If you want to be a champion you can’t have any kind of outside negative coming in to affect you. So I trained myself for that. To be totally cold and not have things going through my mind. And it was a sad story when my father died. Because my mother called me on the phone and she said, “You know, your dad died.” And this was exactly two months before a contest. “Are you coming home for the funeral?” She said. I said: “No. It’s too late. He’s dead and nothing can be done. I’m sorry I can’t come.” And I didn’t explain the reasons why, because how do you explain to a mother whose husband died, you just can’t be bothered now because of a contest?”

And of course:

“It’s as satisfying to me as, uh, cuming is, you know? As, ah, having sex with a woman and cuming. And so can you believe how much I am in heaven? I am like, uh, getting the feeling of cuming in a gym, I’m getting the feeling of cuming at home, I’m getting the feeling of cuming backstage when I pump up, when I pose in front of 5,000 people, I get the same feeling, so I am cuming day and night. I mean, it’s terrific. Right? So you know, I am in heaven.”

There can, of course, be only one answer. Ladies and Gentlemen, the 6-times Mr Olympia champion, the present Governor of California, Mr Arnold Schwarzenegger!

As quoted in the 1977 film Pumping Iron.

Incidentally, anyone inclined to dismiss Schwarzenegger as a moron simply because he was a body builder and played a ruthless cybernetic killing machine in two of the greatest films ever made ought to watch Pumping Iron and think again. Unhinged Arnie may be, but stupid he ain’t.

I promise to resume proper posting shortly, I’m just really busy at the moment.

February 21, 2010

Sunday Reading

Posted in America, Civil Liberties, Other blogs, Philosophy, Political Philosophy, Politics, Society at 4:11 pm by Paul Sagar

My torture piece from the other day has been receiving a bit of attention, so I thought I’d pursue it.

I wanted to jump into the “are Amnesty International a bunch of relativists who abandoned a true commitment to human rights in order to suck up to Osama bin Laden and rag on America?” debate, but thankfully I don’t need to. Flying Rodent has covered it here.

Then I was going to say something more about torture and philosophy. But there’s probably no point as thanks to James I can link you to this superb article by Jeremy Waldron. Waldron is a master of the art, so read what he has to say.

Finally for anyone with a continued taste for torture as it ends up being applied in the real world, two more articles suggested by Jimmy Hill and Peter in previous comments are worth a read: here and here.

I’ll try and have something to say for myself later today, or tomorrow. Until then, happy clicking.

December 15, 2009

Simon Cowell and the Difficulties of Democracy

Posted in America, Books, Consumerism, History, Intellectual History, Political Philosophy, Politics, Society at 12:49 am by Paul Sagar

Simon Cowell wants to do an X-Factor style politics show. Apparently he’d like to: “create a ‘bear pit’ atmosphere, with a live studio audience and viewers voting via telephone.”

Reactions to this look deceptively like they might fall simply into two types. Those who welcome the move and hail it as an extension of democracy by allowing “the people” to directly influence politicians,versus those who recoil at the prospect of skitish demagogues desperately restoring capital punishment and castrating pedophiles. Democrats versus anti-democrats, one might be tempted to say.

But it ain’t that simple. Let’s take a whistle-stop tour of intellectual history, to begin to see just how dark and messy actual democratic theory in the real world is, in stark contrast to the fluffy ideals I recently laid-out.

Let’s start with Thomas Hobbes in the mid-17th Century. Hobbes sought to justify unqualified absolutism, and wished to show that rational, self-interested agents would choose to put themselves under an absolute “Sovereign”. To this end Hobbes conducted a thought experiment in which he argued free agents seeking to escape the “nasty, brutish and short” life of the state of nature would mutually agree to put themselves into civil society by erecting an all-powerful, unchecked Sovereign. In Hobbes’ ideal thought experiment, free agents put themselves, directly and unanimously into civil society. Absolute Sovereigns may be the logically necessary under-pinning of civil society, but in idealised circumstances they were instantiated via pure, immediate democracy (in reality they conquered you, and you bloody well lived with it).

After Hobbes, John Locke softened things by providing that “tyrannical” sovereigns could be legitimately resisted. Sovereign right returned to the people who initially delegated legitimate power to rulers in the first place. In the good times the people “tacitly consented” to be ruled by whoever they found themselves under – with the condition that rebellion was permitted if rulers became tyrants.

In the mid-18th Century, Jean Jaques Rousseau penned his (in)famous Du Contrat Social in which he claimed a (city-)state was legitimate only if all its free citizens could assemble together each year to reveal the “General Will”, and agree to delegate the running of mundane administrative government to trusted officials, who themselves were merely servants (and explicitly not representatives).

Aside from the successive move away from Hobbesian absolutism, it’s worth noting that these theorists didn’t propose for “the people” to be “represented” by intermediaries making decisions on their behalf. Thoughts about “sovereign peoples” being represented by delegates whose task was to carry-forth the will of the people came later. And if we’re going to pick a date, it may as well be 1789.

The French Revolution threw up the need for a “people” to exercise democratic power in quite a spectacular way – but in a nation of over 25 million, Rousseau’s ideal of “the people together assembled” legislating directly was obviously a fantasy. Thus emerged justifications for the legitimacy of elected representatives, who would carry forth the people’s will and govern in their interests. The influential pamphlet What is the Third Estate? by Josef Sieyes is the classic text, in case you’re interested.

The ideal and idea of representative democracy spread throughout 19th Century Europe – but took on strange new forms. In a world of antagonistic class conflicts amidst rapid industrialisation, the series of reform bills extending the franchise in, say, Britain, were met with horror by some sections of the ruling class, but embraced by reformists like Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill. Those in the utilitarian tradition, espousing “the greatest happiness for the greatest number”  as the fundamental moral principle for ordering society, (arguably) joined their thinking up with Rousseau’s notions of the “general will”. They came to see representative democracy as a system for securing the best outcomes for the mass of a people, as well as providing a system of government which tended to produce leaders sensitive to the needs and interests of those electing them. Conservatives and Marxists disagreed, of course – but in the 19th Century, history went against them.

Mass industrialised societies in Western Europe steadily embraced the notion that increasing numbers of ordinary citizens ought to have a say in who ruled them, and by 1918 even some British women were given the franchise (so you may want to have a think about whether Britain has really been a “democracy” for even a hundred years yet…)

Of course, by the early 20th Century things looked decidedly more desperate for democracy. Witnessing the post-WWI collapse of the German-speaking lands, thinkers like Max Weber noted the increasing power of economic actors, the vast anti-democratic significance of mass bureaucracy, and the importance of leaders carried to power not simply off the back of votes but from their own “charismatic” authority over supporters. Darker voices succeeded him: Carl Schmitt (who we met last week), saw representative parliamentary democracy as in free-fall; dragged-down by the failures of liberalism, threatened by the anti-democratic surges from fascist Italy and Bolshevist Russia. From 1929-45, representative (liberal) democracy – and the capitalism it went hand-in-hand with – looked decidedly like it was going to kick the bucket.

But it didn’t. Representative liberal democracy – with a lot of help from Uncle Joe in the East, and Mr Keynes in Britain – beat Hitler and Mussolini on the battlefields and managed to resuscitate what looked like an economic corpse. It then settled down for a nice, long cold war – until in 1989 it suddenly found itself strangely alone and triumphant.

However, way back when capitalist representative democracy was still locked in a death-fight with fascism – and for a couple of years Bolshevism too – a certain Joseph Schumpeter wrote an interesting little book called Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy, published in 1942. This book has some intriguing consequences regarding Mr Cowell’s hiatus from the destruction of western cultured civilisation and his foray into politics.

Schumpeter thought democracy itself could have no intrinsic value: it is simply a method of arriving at leaders and governments. Yet he also thought that the “Classical Doctrine of Democracy” – that there is a “general will” of “the people” that representatives are elected to uphold and pursue – was a myth. Instead, Schumpeter looked at the world and saw power-elites who vied for people’s votes whilst simultaneously seeking to manipulate the (ill-informed, ignorant and complacent) opinions of ordinary citizens in much the same way advertisers manipulate consumer preferences. Opinions could be manufactured. What Schumpeter saw was not an enlightened citizenry, rationally selecting representatives who would act in voters’ interests to serve the “will of the people”, but narrow selections of leaders who vie for popular votes every few years, which they simultaneously attempt to manipulate.

To gleefully annoy many contemporary political theorists, post-Schumpeterian democratic theory is essentially a fight between those who think Schumpeter broadly got it right, and those who think he mostly got it wrong, with a load of autistic economists thrown into the mix.

Schumpeter believed that implicit in democratic society is an agreement to a “political division of labour.” Voters agree to only engage in direct political action at fixed points – i.e. elections – and for the most part they let politicians get on with things, on the understanding they will be voted from office if they fail to meet expectations. Voters may criticise, bemoan and complain, of course – but actual political interference is tacitly understood to be off-limits:

“All that matters here is that successful democratic practice in great and complicated societies has invariably been hostile to political back-seat driving – to the point of resorting to secret diplomacy and lying about intentions and commitments – and that it takes a lot of self-control on the part of the citizen to refrain from it.”

Which yields a rather interesting conclusion. If you take a Schumpeterian view of democracy, and endorse his idea that voters and politicians agree to a division of labour in properly-functioning democracy, then what Simon Cowell is proposing could be read as decidedly undemocratic. By encouraging inter-election voter pressure to be brought upon politicians, Cowell is arguably subverting the democratic status quo of labour division within the political-governmental sphere.*

Of course – and to anticipate a point-missing reply – this only follows on a certain conception of democracy, one that is cynical about democratic mechanisms and the collective wisdoms and myths surrounding them. But the important point is precisely whose democracy is it anyway?

The above has tried to sketch that the (intellectual) history of representative democracy is long and complicated. What democracy in its representative form constitutes in the here and now is open to potentially dark interpretations.

So the next time some dinner-party bore** waves her copy of the Daily Mail at you and claims that Simon Cowell is striking a blow for popular democracy against ZaNuLiebor, don’t be too quick to agree. It’s all much messier than that sort of platitude can possibly allow for.

* Yes, oh eagle-eyed observer: the same argument might be made regarding the ordinary media. Perhaps that is an argument for why Schumpeter’s conception fails. But I rather think it’s more complicated than that…

** I don’t actually go to dinner parties. I wish I did. In reality I mostly eat Chinese food in my underwear. Mostly alone. But this is the sort of rounding-off remark Ben Goldacre makes, and I’d like to pretend I’m more like him.

December 8, 2009

Understanding the Afghan War

Posted in Afghanistan, America, History, Middle East, Politics at 12:30 am by Paul Sagar

Yesterday saw a grim total: the 100th British soldier killed in Afghanistan this year. This takes the total to 237 British troops killed since October 2001.

Total Coalition fatalities since the start of “Operation Enduring Freedom” stand at 1,536. Of that number 932 have been American.

The figures are saddening, of course. War is a horrible thing, and death a terrible business. And I haven’t even provided figures for Afghanis – civilian and combatant – killed in the conflict, or dying as a result of it. Partly that’s because such figures can only be rough estimates. But partly it’s because I want to focus on domestic reactions and responses to the conflict itself.

I am completely unqualified to pass judgement as to the relative efficacy of military action in Afghanistan. And what’s more, I see powerful arguments on both sides of the stay/withdraw debate. I’m too ignorant about foreign policy, Afghanistan, or South-Asian politics to pass any sort of informed judgement.

But what I can do is look at some other statistics, and raise some questions.

Britain, America and the rest of the “Coalition” have been fighting in Afghanistan since October 2001, i.e. just over 8 years. The Vietnam War, by contrast, is typically dated as running from September 26, 1959 to April 30, 1975, i.e. 16 years. Yet by the end of the Vietnam conflict the number of American troops killed in action stood at 58,209, the number wounded in action at 303,635 (roughly half of whom were hospitalised), and the number missing in action at 1,948.

The scale of difference between the conflicts is enormous. Even if the Afghan war drags on for another 8 years, it is highly unlikely it will record the levels of death and maiming witnessed in Vietnam.

This, of course, is something to be grateful for. The Vietnam conflict was a truly nasty affair, most especially for the people of that country, but also for the tens of thousands of young Americans who lost their lives, limbs or sanity in a pointless and brutal conflict.

But the difference in scale between the conflicts is worth reflecting on. The Afghan war is the subject of deep unpopularity, confusion and scepticism at present. Newspapers and blogs heap condemnation either upon the conflict itself, or upon a government perceived as failing to front the finance required to wage the war properly. Yet aside from a few anti-war stalls dotted around town centres, dissent and dissatisfaction is confined mostly to the published word.

Which is hardly surprising. The mass protests against the Vietnam War during the 1960s and 1970s were the product of huge casualty figures, the psychological impact of the world’s first televised war (in all it’s bloody horror), and its being situated in an era of greater ideological, and frequently idealistic, politics. Many anti-war protesters were at least in part venting (ideological) frustration at the political establishment via the proxy of the war (hence why veterans were spat upon literally and metaphorically by anti-war activists, who saw returning troops not as victims but as stooges of Nixonian imperialism).

Of course, if one were being cynical one might also cite another aspect of the Vietnam conflict – and the reaction against it – that distinguishes it from Afghanistan: the draft. Although it’s part of the conventional wisdom that it was easy for the American middle classes to avoid conscription, I do wonder about the extent to which the existence of the draft motivated protest from sections of society that in the present conflict are simply unaffected (unless they choose to be).

But what does it all mean? Very hard to say. But the nature of modern war seems in some sense to have changed. I use Vietnam as my comparative example because, like Afghanistan, it was a war which saw several years of sustained engagement by a western power with no apparent prospect of victory. Similarly, Afghanistan at present dominates foreign policy discourse and domestic agendas, as did Vietnam. Yet the two conflicts appear radically different in their nature, development, and the domestic reactions to them. And I can’t think of an appropriate historical antecedent for Afghanistan.

(We could, of course, point to the continuing US presence in Iraq. However the pattern here is Afghan-like: in six years, total fatalities for coalition forces stand at 4,685, which is again in stark contrast to the scale of Vietnam).

The conflict in Afghanistan is brutal, but nothing like the horrors of Vietnam. Soldiers still die, but nowhere near as many. The population of Afghanistan certainly suffers, but it seems clear that it does not suffer the same levels of horror endured by the Vietnamese. The public mood and reaction in western nations  is instructive in its timidity: blogging dissent and angry editorials, sure – but protests in the street and demands to bring the troops home? That’s so last century.

So what is the Afghan conflict? A war of predominantly lower-class troops sent eastward to combat the evil foe of Islamism, in a never-ending grind of (relative, in historical terms) low-level attrition, whilst the comfortable classes pontificate into their cappuccinos? Or the pre-show entertainment before Pakistan falls apart and the fun really begins?

I don’t know. But the Afghan conflict, at least at this stage, appears to be something different. Not just in the way it’s fought, but in the way it’s reacted to. Whether this sets the pattern for 21st Century conflict, or is merely a brief interlude before we resume the abject horrors of the last century (and as the planet burns and the oil runs out, pessimism seems appropriate) only time will tell.

December 3, 2009

Copenhagen: An introduction to philosophical paradox and why you’re all going to die

Posted in America, China, Economics, Global Climate Catastrophe, Other blogs, Philosophy, Politics at 11:40 pm by Paul Sagar

Sunny Hundal today put up a 6-point plan for how to get realistic about climate change campaigning. It’s a good list. I applaud it – in principle. You see, I’ve no doubt that man-made climate change is happening. I just think the odds are overwhelmingly against us stopping it. To see why, let me take you on a little philosophical tour.

We start in Greece, roughly 2,400 years ago. Meet Eubulides. He’s a philosopher, who put forward what was known to Greeks as “The Heap” problem. (FYI “heap” in Ancient Greek = sôritês, so modern philosophers call this a sorites problem, or paradox)

It goes like this.

If you have one grain of wheat, is that a heap? Manifestly not! What about two grains? Don’t be ridiculous! Three? Pah!…and so on. Seems fairly obvious that so few grains can’t make a heap. Except: if we keep adding one grain at a time, at some point then we’re going to get a heap. The problem – or paradox, if you like – emerges when you lay things out a bit more formally, as the nice Stanford Enyclopedia people have done:

1 grain of wheat does not make a heap.
If 1 grain of wheat does not make a heap then 2 grains of wheat do not.
If 2 grains of wheat do not make a heap then 3 grains do not.

If 9,999 grains of wheat do not make a heap then 10,000 do not.
——————————————————————–
10,000 grains of wheat do not make a heap.

…except, for course, we all want to say 10,000 grains certainly does make a heap. Something has gone wrong. Our impeccable reasoning leads to untenable and obviously false conclusions. But that’s not what I want to talk about here.

Instead, let’s focus upon something the sorites problem brings out: the way individual contributions can, when taken alone, fail to make any significant difference, but if enough similar contributions occur then a difference definitely is made. One grain of wheat added to the pile doesn’t make the difference between “pile” and “not-a-pile”. But it’s manifestly the case that enough grains will end up constituting a pile. One grain is irrelevant, but lots of grains makes vital the difference.

Let’s fast forward 2,400 years to Denmark where the climate talks are about to get underway. The world’s leaders are round the big tables. Let’s imagine some brave head of state (probs not the Candian PM) gets up and makes an impassioned speech about the need for dramatic carbon-reduction targets. This has to be done now, and all members have to sign up and stick to the agreements for it to work. If members stick, then climate change can be halted.

Now imagine the thought processes that goes through leaders’ heads. They all know that meeting carbon reduction has the potential to play very badly with home electorates (so here thinking mostly about democracies, which except for China covers all the big polluters anyway so that works well in my little sketch, as you shall see). Opposition parties will crucify governments that retard domestic industry by forcing reductions, and self-interested voters are likely to resent the taxes and inconveniencies of genuinely meaningful carbon reductions. So signing-up to effective climate deals is a very difficult thing for democratic governments to do in particular.

And it gets worse. What is the point of signing up to hard-hitting targets, if you’re the only one that bothers? Here we meet a phenomenon familiar to economists: the problem of non-compliance by other parties. For example, imagine Britain pledges to make big carbon cuts, sticks to those cuts – but then every other nation doesn’t. Britain’s cuts will have been effectively pointless, we are stuck in a sorites problem. Britain’s carbon emissions alone won’t make the difference to global climate catastrophe: if Britain were the only country to go carbon-zero, climate catastrophe would still happen. But now flip it around. If Britain were the only country not to go carbon-zero, then climate catastrophe would not happen, because Britain’s contribution alone would be insufficient to send the world over the brink.

All countries in the world (with one possible exception, which we’ll get to in a moment) are stuck in the sorites paradox. Be the one country to make the necessary cuts, and all that happens is your nation suffers economically, your party becomes unpopular and is kicked out, and climate catastrophe happens anyway. Be the only country not to make the necessary cuts, and climate disaster is regardless and your nation gets to stay productive with your party remaining in power. The world’s leaders all know these things. They also know every other nation has the same huge incentives to deviate from big pledges (due to domestic pressures) as they do, but also because each nation knows that individually they don’t make the crucial difference (with one possible big exception).

And the leaders all know something else: that it’s very embarrassing to sign up to a big treaty, and then totally miss the set targets. Result? Watered-down proposals with meaninglessly low targets that even if they were met (which they probably won’t be, because after all why bother?) wouldn’t be enough anyway. This way the world’s leaders have their “deal”, so they save face and are not plunged into the sorites paradox of cut-don’tcut

You may at this point be thinking: “But there is a potential game changer: the USA. If America meaningfully reduces its carbon output, then that makes a sufficiently significant difference to stop global climate catastrophe.”

Perhaps. If so, then it’s all down to Barack. Yet who thinks he’s really got what it takes to put America behind its industrial rivals, at a time of tentative economic recovery, when his poll ratings are down and climate denialism in the USA is on the up? Not me. (Further reading on the Disapointment President).

And anyway, how can we be sure that the USA alone is big enough to be a game-changer? Let’s assume that it’s not: that if every other country in the world keeps polluting, then even if America went carbon-zero climate catastrophe would still happen. Back to sorites. If all nations act together, climate catastrophe is averted. But if only individual nations do, then all that happens is that they lose, and the planet burns anyway. Given the domestic pressures for leaders to deviate, as well as knowledge of other nations’ likelihood of deviating, and the knowledge that their specific country’s emissions don’t make the difference either way – what possible mechanism is there for achieving meaningful carbon reductions?

The only answer I can think of is world dictatorship, extracting compliance from each economy.

Ouch.

It’s the devil and the deep blue sea. Cooked alive or under a world-sized jackboot. Either way, I’m not paying attention to Copenhagen. I’m stocking tinned food for the ark that’ll take me to whichever godforsaken corner of the earth is still inhabitable when it all goes tits-up.

And I’ll be taking a shotgun. See you there. But stay away from my tins.

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