Archives: March 2006

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Happiness in Las Vegas

[cross-posted at Liberty & Power]

Tomorrow I’m off to Las Vegas for the (unluckily monikered) APEE, where I’ll be contributing to a panel on “Happiness: Philosophical and Economic Perspectives.” (Essentially I’ll be trying to defend an Aristotelean conception of happiness on praxeological grounds.) Take a look at the participant list and you’ll see why it would be a bad thing for the libertarian movement if Vegas got nuked over the weekend.

I have more to say about the French situation, but it’ll have to wait until I get back.

In the meantime, check out Charles’ recent rebuttal of a frequent argument against worker-run industry, as well as an interesting discussion of urban vs. agrarian virtues in the comments section of his recent post on immigration.

Subversion from the Sea

I’m continuing to work my way through some of the lesser-known works of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells, and thought I would comment on the two latest:

• Verne’s 1878 novel A Captain at Fifteen (translated as the two volumes Dick Sands: A Captain at Fifteen and Dick Sands: The Dark Continent – with neither volume, incidentally, offering any clue from the publisher that it is only one half of a longer story) is a straight adventure tale with no science fiction elements – unless a dog that can recognise its master’s written initials counts as a science-fiction element. The plot turns on an accident that deprives a ship of its captain and regular crew, leaving the ship in the hands of an amateur crew every member of which is either black, female, or underage. Of the only two adult white males left on board, one is a scatter-brained entomologist (Verne’s eccentric scientist characters are sometimes fonts of useful information and morale-boosting enthusiasm, but not this one – he’s as helpless as a child, utterly self-absorbed, and completely useless), while the other is a vicious scoundrel who seeks to betray the ship into the hands of slavers.
  
  Verne’s decision to place his fictional ship in the hands of characters from ordinarily marginalised categories is an interesting one, as is the result: the new crew quickly masters its shipboard tasks, learning intelligently and cooperating easily. All would be well in this seaborne utopia of diversity were it not for the aforementioned villain, who uses trickery to divert the ship to slaver territory – and much of the ensuing action doubles as an angry indictment of the slave trade, of which Verne writes:
  
  

  The “slave-trade” is an expression that ought never to have found its way into any human language. After being long practiced at a large profit by such European nations as had possessions beyond the seas, this abominable traffic has now for many years been ostensibly forbidden; yet even in the enlightenment of this nineteenth century, it is still carried on, especially in Central Africa, inasmuch as there are several states, professedly Christian, whose signatures have never been affixed to the deed of abolition.

  Nor is this one of those anti-slavery novels where all the heroics and initiative are reserved for the white characters. I suspect that this book influenced Hergé’s Tintin stories; but as much as I love those stories, I have to say that if this were a Tintin adventure, the plucky white teenager would be ingeniously fighting the slavers while the black slaves themselves, good-hearted but simple-minded, remained locked up in the hold, passively awaiting rescue at the hands of the kindly massa. Not so here.
  
  A Captain at Fifteen is thus surprisingly enlightened in its portrayal of race, and is useful for ridding one’s mental palate of the taste of Verne’s tiresome anti-Semitism in Hector Servadac and The Pearl of Lima.



• Wells’ 1902 novel The Sea Lady isn’t science fiction either – it’s pure, whimsical fantasy about a mermaid who comes ashore one day at a beach resort on the coast of England and invades the life of a very respectable British family, who try to steer her toward acceptable positions in politics and religion, and strenuously endeavour to ignore, cover up, and avoid all mention of the fact that she has a tail – as she subtly begins to disrupt and overturn their carefully crafted lives.
  
  The mermaid’s tail stands, of course, for sexuality, the subconscious, repressed longings, and everything that proper Victorians are expected to stifle; and the situation allows Wells to satirise turn-of-the-century British society quite amusingly. (All the human characters talk by maddening indirection, like people in a Henry James novel.) But Wells also offers some beautifully haunting and thought-provoking passages. For example, here is the mermaid’s indictment of human society:
  
  

  “But you are so limited, so tied! The little time you have, you use so poorly! You begin and you end and all the time between it is as if you were enchanted, you are afraid to do this that would be delightful to do, you must do that though you know all the time it is stupid and disagreeable. Just think of all the things – even the little things – you mustn’t do. Up there on the Leas in this hot weather all the people are sitting in stuffy ugly clothes – ever so much too much clothes – hot tight boots, you know, when they have the most lovely pink feet ... and they are all with little to talk about and nothing to look at, and bound not to do all sorts of natural things, and bound to do all sorts of preposterous things. Why are they bound? Why are they letting life slip by them? Just as though they wouldn’t all of them presently be dead! Suppose you were to go up there in a bathing-dress and a white cotton hat –”
  
  “It wouldn’t be proper!” cried Melville. …
  
  “But anyone may see you like that on the beach!”
  
  “That’s different.”
  
  “It isn’t different. You dream it’s different. And in just the same way you dream all the other things are proper or improper or good or bad to do. ... Your life, I tell you, is a dream – a dream, and you can’t wake out of it –”
  
  “And if so, why do you tell me?” ...
  
  He heard the rustle of her movement as she bent towards him.
  
  She came warmly close to him. She spoke in gently confidential undertones, as one who imparts a secret that is not to be too lightly given. “Because,” she said, “there are better dreams.”
  
  For a moment it seemed to Melville that he had been addressed by something quite other than the pleasant lady in the bath-chair before him. ...
  
  “What dreams?” rebelled Melville. “What do you mean? What are you? What do you mean by coming into this life – you who pretend to be a woman – and whispering, whispering ... to us who are in it, to us who have no escape?”
  
  “But there is an escape,” said the Sea Lady.

  What, though, is the nature of this “escape” that the mermaid offers? Wells calls it “Something we never find in life. ... Something we are always seeking. ... something that tears at the very fabric of human life.” But is such escape a real option for finite beings like us? Is it a genuinely freer existence – or only death: “No adventure, no incident, but a going out from all that this life has to offer”?
  
  Here’s one of the human characters, stating the case (rather half-heartedly) against the “escape” offered by the mermaid:
  
  

  Why should it be finer to see beauty where it is fatal to us to see it? Why? Unless we are to believe there is no reason in things, why should this – impossibility be beautiful to anyone, anyhow? ... This dream has taken me wonderfully. And I must renounce it. After all, it is not so much – to renounce a dream. It’s no more than deciding to live. There are big things in the world for men to do. ... I’ve no doubt about my choice. I’m going to fall in – with the species; I’m going to take my place in the ranks in that battle for the future which is the meaning of life. ... This lax dalliance with dreams and desires must end. I will make a time-table for my hours and a rule for my life, I will entangle my honour in controversies, I will give myself to Service, as a man should do. Clean-handed work, struggle and performance. ... I am a man and must go a man’s way. There is Desire, the light and guide of the world, a beacon on a headland blazing out. Let it burn! ... I’ve got to live a man and die a man and carry the burthen of my class and time. ... Here, with the flame burning I renounce it. ... That is life for all of us. We have desires, only to deny them, senses that we all must starve. We can live only as a part of ourselves. Why should I be exempt?

  Wells could easily have portrayed his mermaid either as clearly a liberating force, shattering stale conventionality, or else as clearly a seductively demonic force, subverting and corrupting with malicious intent. But he doesn’t take either of those easy ways out. Perhaps echoing Freudians’ ambivalence about the benefits and hazards of repression, Wells offers some evidence for each interpretation and leaves the final verdict ambiguous – and the reader vaguely longing.

Another Loony Left-Libertarian Screed from Roderick

[cross-posted at Liberty & Power]

What the current protests in France are about, at least inter alia, is the French government’s proposal to allow employers to fire their workers – a right they’re currently not allowed.

It might seem clear which side a libertarian has to be on in this dispute: of course libertarians favour freedom of association, which includes the freedom of either party to exit an employment contract. Thus the new proposal apparently represents a move in the direction of a free market: the government is right, and the protestors are wrong.

But things aren’t quite so simple.

Of course in a free market there would be no legal restrictions (except those contractually agreed to) on an employer’s right to fire an employee. But from the fact that there would be no X in a free society, it doesn’t follow that absolutely any situation will be moved in the direction of freedom simply by removing X. (Compare: from the fact that a healthy person wouldn’t have a pacemaker, it doesn’t follow that the health of anyone who has a pacemaker would be improved by its removal.)

As I recently wrote elsewhere:

Whether something counts as a reduction of restrictions on liberty depends on the context. Remember when Reagan “deregulated” the Savings & Loans – such deregulation could be a good thing under many circumstances, but given that he didn’t remove federal deposit insurance, “deregulation” amounted in that context to an increase of aggression against the taxpayers, licensing the S&Ls to takes greater risks with taxpayers’ money.

So in this case: when government passes laws giving group A unjust privileges over group B, and then passes another law giving B some protection against A, then repealing the second law without repealing the first amounts to increasing A’s unjust privilege over B. Of course a free society would have neither the first nor the second law, but repealing them in the wrong order can actually decrease rather than increase liberty.

[S]ince the state’s intervention, directly or indirectly, has been in the interests of the plutocracy, it matters a great deal which functions of the state should be axed first. The first to go should be those forms of intervention in the market that subsidize economic centralization and the concentration of wealth, reduce the bargaining power of labor, and ensure monopoly returns to the owners of land and capital. The last to go should be those government functions that make the system of class exploitation marginally bearable for labor. In the words of Thomas Knapp of the Democratic Freedom Caucus, that means cutting welfare from the top down, and taxes from the bottom up.

How Victor Yarros Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the State

[cross-posted at Liberty & Power]

Of all the possible and impossible Utopias, that of the Philosophical Anarchists is, of course, the most preposterous one. How many persons of the world today can even imagine a society without the State? The first thing people do under pioneering conditions is to organize a government. The first thing people in distress do at any time is to appeal to the State for aid.

Great part of that order which reigns among mankind is not the effect of government. It has its origin in the principles of society and the natural constitution of man. It existed prior to government, and would exist if the formality of government was abolished. The mutual dependence and reciprocal interest which man has upon man, and all the parts of civilised community upon each other, create that great chain of connection which holds it together. ... In fine, society performs for itself almost everything which is ascribed to government.

The American farmers do not regard the State as their enemy. They are grateful to it for small favors; and organized labor is equally grateful for like favors. If the State is the enemy, what is Plutocracy, and what is predatory big business? ...

[W]hatever the origin of the State, it was absurd to assert that it was always and inevitably the instrument of privilege and monopoly, and must remain such under all conditions. The evidence glaringly contradicted that conception. The democratic governments have increasingly yielded to the pressure of farmers, wage workers, and middle-class reformers.

The hatred of our plutocrats and reactionaries for the New Deal is alone sufficient to dispose of the charge that the State is simply the tool of the economic oligarchy. In the past, the same interests bitterly fought Woodrow Wilson’s reform program, and fought in vain.

We might compare the alliance between government and big business to the alliance between church and state in the Middle Ages. Of course it’s in the interest of both parties to maintain the alliance – but all the same, each side would like to be the dominant partner, so it’s no surprise that the history of such alliances will often look like a history of conflict and antipathy, as each side struggles to get the upper hand. But this struggle must be read against a common background framework of cooperation to maintain the system of control.

This Is a Stick-Up

So, here’s a bumper sticker I’d like to see:

This Week in Review

[cross-posted at Liberty & Power]

A rundown of my adventures for this past week or so:

• On Thursday the 9th my friend Matthew Quest, history professor at Lewis University, gave a talk to Auburn’s history department on “C. L. R. James, the C. I. O., and American Civilization.” Matthew argued that James, although technically a Marxist, was “the most libertarian revolutionary intellectual of both the Pan-African and international labor movements.”
  
  For James the proper goal of labour unions was to attain workers’ self-management, rather than to set up a union bureaucracy to negotiate with management on behalf of an essential passive labour force; and he opposed both the Soviet-model one-party state and the American-model welfare state as forces that treated workers as “barnyard animals” rather than as autonomous agents. James had little enthusiasm for the sacred cows of the statist left, dismissing the United Nations as the façade of an imperialist consensus, and social democrats as apologists for “permanent slaughter.” He also favoured decentralisation to the point of near-anarchism, and rejected the patronising efforts of left-wing intellectuals, insisting that the working class must lead itself.



• On Monday the 13th my friend Fred Miller, philosophy professor at Bowling Green State and president of the Social Philosophy and Policy Center, gave a talk to the philosophy department here (unfortunately twice interrupted by fire alarms) on “Aristotelian Statecraft and Modern Politics.” Fred’s aim was to consider how Aristotle’s principles of political reform might be applied to libertarian political strategy.
  
  Fred invoked the Aristotelian principle of approximism, namely that if imperfect reform X is chosen because it is the nearest available approximation to ideal reform Y, then the choice of X is actually authorised, rather than forbidden, by whatever principles establish Y as the ideal. This much I agreed with, more or less; but Fred went on to draw a gradualist, pro-compromise, anti-Rothbardian moral that I wasn’t convinced followed. (I ended up addressing this point in my Rothbard Memorial Lecture.)



• This past Thursday through Saturday I attended the Austrian Scholars Conference, where I presented the aforementioned Rothbard Memorial Lecture, titled “Rothbard’s ‘Left and Right’: Forty Years Later.” (“Forty-One Years Later” would actually be more accurate – but less euphonious.) In my lecture I defended, at least in broad terms, the left-libertarian outlook set forth in Murray Rothbard’s 1965 articles “Left and Right: The Prospects for Liberty” and “Liberty and the New Left.” Reactions ranged from enthusiastic agreement to dismayed perplexity. (I’ll post a link to my talk as soon as it’s online.)
  
  There were a number of noteworthy presentations. An incomplete list: Ben Powell discussed the continuing anarchy in Somalia, presenting evidence to show that by most measures Somali society is more peaceful and prosperous now than it was when Somalia had a state. Ed Stringham talked about a new anthology he’s just edited, Anarchy, State, and Public Choice, defending anarchism against critiques by public-choice theorists like James Buchanan and Gordon Tullock; he also gave a paper discussing the 19th-century Christian anarchist David Lipscomb. (For my comments on the latter, see the Mises Blog.) Michael Rozeff argued that the state is a fundamentally unsound institution from the standpoint of finance economics. Stephen Carson argued that suppression of private property rights is the most reliable predictor of democide. Josef Šima reported on the success of his Prague-based Liberální Institut (where I’ll be next month for the Prague Conference on Political Economy). Fred Day explored proto-Austrian themes in the work of “Ricardian socialist” Thomas Hodgskin, while Jeff Tucker and Paul Cantor demonstrated Mark Twain’s commitment to classical liberalism.
  
  A number of my homeys were also on the program: Geoff Plauché discussed Aristotelean foundations of praxeology; Kelli van Vier rebutted Ed Feser’s attempt to argue from libertarian premises to conservative conclusions (e.g., the legitimacy of anti-drug, anti-pornography, and anti-gay legislation); Ben Kilpatrick critiqued Rawls on time-preference; and Dan D’Amico participated in a roast of panel on Walter Block.
  
  I was pleased to see my friend Rich Hammer (albeit too briefly). I was told by one attendee that my Wittgenstein/praxeology manuscript is being discussed at the University of Istanbul, and I spotted another attendee wearing a Molinari Institute t-shirt. The quest for world domination continues ....



• On Friday night I went with some of the Misesvolk to see V for Vendetta, which I highly recommend. Although it falls short of the original in some respects (for one thing, it’s much less explicitly anarchistic), it’s still a great libertarian ride and captures much of the eerie quality of the book – especially that haunting mask with Hugo Weaving’s marvelous voice coming out of it. (This film also settles, at least for me, the question whether Natalie Portman’s relatively poor acting in the Star Wars prequels was her fault or Lucas’s. Like Lauren Bacall – compare To Have and Have Not with Key Largo, or compare the first and second versions of The Big Sleep – Portman needs an actor’s director to bring out her talent, and an actor’s director Lucas is not.)
  
  There’s been a lot of debate about whether V for Vendetta glorifies terrorism, and comparisons have been drawn between V’s actions and the 9/11 attacks. But the analogy is weak; V takes out bad guys, not innocent civilians. To be sure, a number of his actions would be worthy of moral condemnation if carried out in real life (I won’t go into details, so as to avoid spoilers), but in the context of the story they work on a symbolic level.



• Speaking of V for Vendetta there’s been a lot of discussion of the film on LRC blog, including this piece where Stephen Carson draws a connection between my aforementioned Rothbard Memorial Lecture and some of Alan Moore’s comments about the film. But I have to take issue with the following judgment expressed by J. H. Huebert:
  
  

  I found the film’s homosexual propaganda gratuitous (the idea that homosexual conduct is somehow threatened by the present political situation is preposterous – indeed, one suspects sodomy will be one of the few rights left before the Supreme Court is done with us) ....

  Given today’s high rate of violence against gays, and given that Roy Moore – then an Alabama state judge, and still today one of the most popular political figures in Alabama – wrote a judicial opinion urging the use of “the power of the sword,” up to and including “confinement and even execution,” against gays, the notion that gays face no threat in the current political climate strikes me as bizarre.



• As long as I’m grumping about posts on LRC Blog, I might as well say something on behalf of John Lennon’s “Imagine” against Gil Guillory’s rather uncharitable interpretation. Gil wrote:
  
  

  When I taught economics to homeschoolers, we analysed “Imagine”:
  
  Imagine there’s no heaven = atheism
  Imagine all the people living for today = high time preference
  Nothing to kill or die for = nihilism
  Imagine no possessions = no private property
  etc.

  Now the references to heaven and possessions are indeed a rejection of religion and private property; no debate there. But Lennon’s endorsement of “living for today” is not an endorsement of high time-preference; in context he clearly means embracing life in this world as opposed to waiting for an afterlife (which Lennon ex hypothesi regards as nonexistent; this is a corollary of “no heaven”). It’s not high time-preference to prefer present satisfactions regarded as real over future satisfactions regarded as imaginary. Likewise, “nothing to kill or die for” has nothing to do with nihilism; what it means is not “nothing worth killing or dying for” but rather “nothing you have to kill or die for” – i.e., peace. Plus, Gil leaves out the most magnificent line of all: “Imagine there’s no countries.”

Traduttore Traditore

To a reader just starting Jules Verne’s 1877 novel Hector Servadac, it wouldn’t be obvious that this was to be one of Verne’s science fiction novels. On the contrary, the opening chapters – featuring a French military officer in North Africa, preparing to fight a duel with a romantic rival – might lead the reader to expect a straight, non-science-fictional adventure story (of which Verne wrote many).

It is not until the fourth chapter that it becomes evident that some sort of astronomical catastrophe has struck: suddenly gravity and air pressure are lower, the celestial bodies are all askew, etc. The characters begin to speculate that perhaps the Earth has been knocked off its axis; but it does not initially occur to them that they are no longer on the Earth. When eventually this thought does occur, the characters assume that they are at least on some large chunk of the Earth that has somehow gotten dislodged. It is not until the 26th chapter, over halfway through the book, that the characters discover that they are actually traveling on a comet which has barely grazed the Earth, carrying off some soil and water and a few unwilling passengers.

Presumably this is supposed to come as a surprise to the reader too. Maybe not quite as much of a surprise; Verne has been dropping clues all along, so the reader has a fair chance of figuring things out before the characters do. But even so, Verne plainly intends the reader to have to figure it out, rather than simply being told up front.

After all, many of Verne’s novels announce in their very titles what sort of adventure the reader is in for: Around the World in Eighty Days, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Journey to the Centre of the Earth, From the Earth to the Moon, and so on. The fact that Verne by contrast gave this novel the non-committal title Hector Servadac suggests that he wanted to maintain some suspense as to what is really going on.

So what title did Verne’s English translators give to Hector Servadac? Why, Off On a Comet, of course! Thanks a lot, guys.

A Late Delivery from Babylon

The last of the unreleased Babylon 5 shows is now finally being released on dvd, as a feature-length film titled Legend of the Rangers. This was originally To Live and Die in Starlight, the pilot for an unrealised Babylon 5 spinoff series to be titled Legend of the Rangers.

This disc now joins the original Babylon 5 pilot, seasons 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, the tv-movies, and the other spinoff series Crusade.

I can’t say that this is Babylon 5 at its best; indeed I have the same gripe about Legend that I had about Thirdspace, namely that each of them introduces a new long-lost alien race that is supposed to be “even more terrifying than the Shadows.” The original series spent many, many episodes gradually building up the menace of the Shadows; there’s no way some Cthulhu-come-latelies can just waltz in after a few minutes’ exposition and expect to earn the same kind of audience reaction.

But it’s still a fun ride; and it features what now, sadly, turns out to be G’kar’s final appearance.

Wooly Bully; or, Mammoths Live!

They say that mammoths are extinct – but are they? Take a good look at this aerial photo:

I’ve Been Memed!*** – Part Deux

I notice that some versions of the “Meme*** of Fours” include the category “Four albums I can’t live without.” So here are mine:

1. Leonard Cohen – The Essential Leonard Cohen
2. Lucinda Williams – Essence
3. Yeni Türkü – Külhani Şarkılar
4. Antonio Vivaldi – The Four Seasons

I’ve Been Memed!*

Wally Conger has tagged me with the dreaded “Meme* of Fours.” I hereby discharge it.

Four jobs I’ve had

1. House painter
2. Amusement park ride operator
3. Grocery bagger
4. Academic summer program director

1. His Girl Friday
2. Ninotchka
3. To Have and Have Not
4. The Third Man

1. Colorado Springs, Colorado
2. San Diego, California
3. Hanover, New Hampshire
4. Chapel Hill, North Carolina

1. The Twilight Zone (the original)
2. Secret Agent / Danger Man
3. Babylon 5
4. Firefly

1. Lost
2. Alias
3. 24
4. Deadwood

1. London, England
2. Paris, France
3. The Amalfi Coast, Italy
4. Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

1. Ahi tuna
2. Tortellini
3. Spanakopita
4. Lechon asado (the way they make it at Alma de Cuba)

1. RadGeek
2. Brad Spangler
3. Kevin Carson
4. Ludwig von Mises Institute

See my answers to Four places I’ve vacationed, above.

Ah well, when Alexander the Great** was on his deathbed, he was asked to whom he wished to bequeath his empire. “To the strongest,” he is said to have replied. Same deal here: this meme* belongs to whoever can seize it.

Melancholy Miscellany

• I was very sorry to hear that Harry Browne has died. I had the honour of meeting him twice – once at the nominating convention in 1996, and again last year at the Advocates Anniversary. Browne was one of the Party’s most articulate and credible spokesmen; he looked presidential. And he stood firmly against war paranoia in the wake of 9/11, speaking out immediately in the days following the attacks. He will be missed.



• Turns out the real reason Cory Maye was sentenced to death – according to juror testimony – was that he “wasn’t very respectful of elders and authority figures,” plus the jury resented his attorney’s suggestion that Christians should practise what they preach. Well, hey, those are good reasons, right?
  
  If you haven’t signed the petition on his behalf, please do so.



• Another victim of legal lunacy is Steve Kubby, whose life is endangered by imprisonment without access to medical marijuana. Please support him if you can.



• On a lighter note, check out this very funny ad for Berlitz language courses. (Conical hat tip to Tom Palmer.)

From Russia With Love

[cross-posted at Liberty & Power]

Guess the mystery philosopher:

I was a Russian Jew by birth, but an American and an atheist by choice. In early adulthood I fled Russian tyranny to come to America, where I became involved in the fledgling libertarian movement. One of the chief libertarian newspaper writers of that era was my friend and intellectual mentor, though we later had a somewhat acrimonious break. I never held an official academic post, but I wrote widely on philosophical and political questions, favouring secularist rationalism, ethical individualism, and extreme economic and political laissez-faire. After an early flirtation with a somewhat Nietzschean version of egoism, I developed more of a natural-rights approach, drawing on the classical liberal tradition. Later in life, I annoyed many of my former associates by sharply condemning libertarianism – especially in its anarchistic form. My spouse pre-deceased me by several years.

Who am I?

Blogosphere of the Libertarian Left Ring Owner: Thomas Knapp Site: Blogosphere of the Libertarian Left

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