More on the Health Care Problem

Here is a fascinating podcast: https://www.econtalk.org/keith-smith-on-free-market-health-care/

It’s an interview with Dr. Keith Smith, who runs the Surgery Center of Oklahoma. It’s a for-profit business that provides surgery of various kinds. They don’t take insurance, and their prices are all posted online. Their prices are also radically lower than the prices at regular, “not-for-profit” hospitals.

Near the beginning, Smith describes quoting a price for a surgery to a patient over the phone. He quotes her a price of $1,900. The patient says, “That’s interesting, because the non-profit hospital I talked to before you quoted me a price of $19,000.”

Later in the podcast, he describes some of the scams that go on in the industry. When hospitals claim that they were underpaid (the patient didn’t pay the full cost of treatment), they get money from the government. That sounds reasonable, right? They should be compensated for their good work.

This has caused hospitals to jack up prices to absurd levels, so they can regularly claim they were paid only a tiny fraction of the costs, so they can get more money from the government.

The hospitals make agreements with insurance companies whereby the insurance company only pays a fraction of the absurdly inflated price. This is all cool with the insurance companies too, because it enables them to claim that they negotiated unbelievable discounts (like an 80% or 90% discount) for their customers. It also makes it cost-prohibitive for a patient to get medical care without insurance, which is also fine with the insurance companies.

The Health Care Problem

America’s health care system is obviously f—‘ed up. Even politicians recognize it. Almost everyone I hear talking about health care (a) knows that our system is terrible, and (b) has some radical proposal that would make things much worse and would ignore all the main problems. I’m getting kind of tired of this situation, and I’m worried that when I get old and need more health care, I will have to leave the country in order to avoid being bankrupted. Of course, no one with power will listen to me, and the problem will probably continue worsening for decades, especially if politicians pass more “reforms”. But I’m going to say what I think anyway.

1. The Problem

What’s wrong with American health care? Is it

  1. Its quality
  2. Its quantity
  3. Its cost
  4. Its distribution?

There are some quality issues (like people dying from medical errors), but overall America has high quality health care. The main problem is obviously (3). Costs are absurdly high, which in turn prevents many people from getting health care, so that affects (2) and (4) as well. Anecdotally, you can literally buy some drugs from Canada for less than a tenth the price you would pay in the U.S. If you take your cat to the vet, the cat can get health care for a fraction of the price you would pay for similar care for yourself. So we know that health care does not inherently have to cost this much. Now some statistics:

We spend over a sixth of the entire GDP on health care (18%), over $10,000 per person per year, much more than other developed nations. Costs have been skyrocketing for the past few decades, as shown in these graphs:

If this goes on, we’re all going to go bankrupt from medical costs.

We’re outspending the rest of the world, including other developed nations, but we’re not getting better health outcomes than other developed nations. This is a graph of deaths amenable to prevention by health care, per 100,000 population, in several developed countries:

Notice how the U.S. is doing worst (the red bars).

(Sources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Health_care_in_the_United_States, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/262881094)

Let’s keep this in mind. The main problem isn’t that we don’t have enough insurance, or that the costs are being borne by the wrong people, or any dumb thing like that. The main problem is the total costs are too high. If we can address that, all other problems are going to get easier. If we don’t address that, then nothing else can really be fixed. No matter how you shuffle around the costs or modify the method of paying, it really cannot produce a satisfactory outcome if you don’t do something to drastically reduce the total.

2. Why Is Health Care So Damned Expensive?

There are many factors. Here are a few big ones.

a. Insurance.

Note: the problem here is not that the greedy insurance companies are making excessive profits. Profit margins in health insurance are not out of line with profit margins for companies in the U.S. economy generally. Rather, the problem is:

  1. Any time you add a middle man, you’re increasing costs. The middlemen have to be paid. If we all bought food using “food insurance”, then food costs would probably double.
  2. Insurance companies want to make sure that they don’t overpay or pay for unnecessary procedures. So they require paperwork to be filled out to convince them of this. There then have to be experts on all the complicated rules about what the insurance company pays for, how much, etc. This greatly increases costs.
  3. Because a third party is paying, patients ignore the prices. Because patients ignore the prices, providers jack up the prices. Since it’s being paid by a big, faceless corporation, no one feels bad about this.

This is part of why veterinary care is much cheaper than human care. It’s also why elective procedures (e.g., cosmetic surgery) are cheaper than “necessary” procedures — because insurance won’t pay for the former.

b. Shadow Prices.

If you go to a doctor or hospital, they never tell you the price of anything before you take it. You just have to take the medical care, whatever it is, and then wait to get a bill in the mail. For this reason, there is no question of going to a lower-cost provider, even if you wanted to.

c. Supply Restrictions.

Basic economics: the Law of Supply and Demand: for a given level of demand, if you restrict the supply of a good, the price goes up. Also, if you add very costly hurdles that suppliers have to jump over, you increase the prices.

In this case, to be allowed to practice medicine in the U.S., you have to:

  1. Get an undergraduate degree (~4 years),
  2. Go to medical school (~4 years),
  3. Do an internship (1 year, possibly included in the following requirement), and
  4. Do a medical residency (~3-7 years).

All of this is extremely costly in both time and money. Therefore, prices of medical care have to go up, a lot, in order to make it worthwhile for people to enter the field. Health care providers have to be compensated for the enormous up-front costs, else there wouldn’t be any providers.

There also is a limited number of residencies available in various specialties, making it impossible to increase the supply of providers to meet demand. Residency Review Committees, staffed by doctors in a given specialty, have control over how many residencies are offered, and they use this power to restrict the supply and raise prices. (Source: Sean Nicholson, https://www.nber.org/papers/w9649.pdf.)

d. Because We Care.

Why is it so easy to get health care for your cat, and why can he get excellent care for a fraction of what it would cost to care for you? Because he’s just a cat.

Because he’s “just a cat”, people don’t freak out as much about giving him care. They don’t do as many unnecessary tests and procedures. If something goes wrong, you probably won’t sue the vet. If you do sue, you probably won’t be awarded millions of dollars. Therefore, the vet doesn’t have to practice defensive medicine, and doesn’t have to buy malpractice insurance. And because he’s just a cat, there is less regulation governing his care.

When your cat is terminally ill and in pain, the vet will offer euthanasia. When the same situation befalls you, in most states, your doctor will not be permitted to offer the same mercy. This may result in spending much more money on care in the last few months or weeks of life.

3. Bad Ideas that Ignore or Worsen the Problem

Here are some examples of the incredibly bad ideas people come up with to “reform” the system. I think these are products of ideology rather than serious reflection or even awareness of the basic problem:

a. Make everyone buy health insurance. (per Obamacare)

This ignores the main problem. The main problem was never a shortage of insurance policies. The main problem is the total cost. Buying insurance spreads the costs over the insurance pool, which of course might be worth doing, but it does nothing to reduce the total, which is the main thing we need.

In fact, insurance is one of the main reasons why health care costs are so high in the first place, so we should expect this idea to increase the total cost of health care. And indeed, health care costs have continued, utterly unsurprisingly, to rise since the ACA (Obamacare) was adopted (https://ldi.upenn.edu/brief/effects-aca-health-care-cost-containment).

(Note: I know there is more to the ACA than the individual mandate.)

b. Have the government subsidize health care.

On an individual level, this might seem like a solution: if you are facing high health care costs, your problem is solved by having the government pay for (part of) your health care. But this can’t be the solution for society if society as a whole is facing excessive health care costs. This just redistributes the cost; it doesn’t reduce the cost borne by society overall.

In fact, basic economics tells us that if a product is subsidized, then (a) more people will try to buy it, and (b) the prices will rise. So this idea increases total costs.

If the supply is fixed (per section 2c above), the result will be that suppliers raise their prices so that the same number of people receive the good as before. We just spend more money for the same amount of the good.

c. Have the government pay for all health care. (“Single payer”)

Another proposal to shuffle around who pays the cost or how it is paid. In fairness, there is an economic theory whereby a single payer can reduce prices. It’s just the reverse of a monopoly: if you have a monopoly (single seller), you can raise the prices above what would be the competitive market level. If you have a monopsony (single buyer), you can lower the prices below the competitive market level. Both, by the way, result in a lower total quantity of the good being consumed, and lower economic efficiency (monopoly benefits the seller but harms the buyers by more; monopsony benefits the buyer but harms the sellers by more).

However, this theoretical possibility does not mean that things would in fact work out that way, in the United States as it actually is, with the federal government as the single payer. The U.S. government, as it happens, is extremely subject to influence from rent-seeking special interest groups, and is not extremely good at reducing costs or balancing its budget. Another factor is that, when the government is paying for something, many Americans have a tendency to spend as much as they can. Thus, the following are all possible results of a single-payer American system:

  1. Prices might be reduced, maybe by a lot, due to the state’s bargaining power.
  2. The number of health care providers might decrease because of (1). (When prices go down, fewer people want to enter the industry.) There would then be less health care available.
  3. There may be more rent-seeking lobbying from the medical industry, with unpredictable results. This could increase health care costs, as providers use political influence to get the government to cover things that private insurers would not have covered, or even to get the government to pay above market rates for procedures.
  4. Health care providers might start to recommend more, and more expensive forms of, medical care, and patients might agree, since the government is paying.
  5. The federal debt would of course explode, even more than it already has. Because there’s no way we’re going to raise taxes by trillions of dollars per year to pay for it.

. . .

Before proposing a reform, we should think about this: what is going wrong in the health care industry, as compared with normal industries?

In most industries, prices decrease relative to wages over time. Subjectively and anecdotally speaking, the products of most industries seem really affordable yet high-quality. (E.g., for $350, you can buy a machine that can literally perform a billion calculations a second, can store millions of pages of information, connects you effortlessly to a world-wide network so you can share your fake-nous thoughts, and other amazing things.) What is different in the health care industry, compared to the industries that are going well?

I’ve answered that in section 2. The answer is not “the industries where things are going well are run by the government” or “they have a single payer for all of their products” or “everyone has insurance”.

Notice how all of the reforms discussed in this section completely ignore all the points I raised about health care costs in section 2. It’s as if those were completely unknown or incomprehensible points. But they’re not; they’re totally obvious with a basic understanding of economics and basic facts about the American health care system.

4. Non-Stupid Ideas that at Least Acknowledge the Problem

What would a minimally smart person say who was trying to think about the problem, rather than trying to score points with know-nothing ideologues? You can doubtless find more developed and better answers than this, but the following is a start:

(a)

We should eliminate shadow prices. My proposed law: For any medical care accepted by a patient, the price of that care must be made available in advance, or else the patient is not legally obligated to pay. In the case of emergency care, for which there may not be time to discuss pricing information when the particular patient shows up, the information should still be published in a publicly available location.

(A legal rationale: you can’t claim that someone has implicitly agreed to pay some price, if there was no way for them to know what the price was. If patients have not agreed to pay the price, then they should not have to pay it.)

(b)

There should be less reliance on insurance. Insurance should only pay for large, unanticipated expenses, not routine medical care.

Also, insurance should be purchased by the individual, not the individual’s employer. (Take the money that employers are already spending on health insurance: they can just give that money to the employees, then employees can buy insurance themselves.) Then insurance plans could be expected to become better tailored to individuals’ desires. You also wouldn’t lose your insurance if you changed jobs.

(I don’t know exactly how these outcomes would be brought about.)

(c)

Remove the goddamned rent-seeking supply restrictions.

Supply restrictions, unfortunately, are among the most popular anti-libertarian laws. People love being fleeced by industries. Whenever you propose relaxing restrictions on the supply of some good, consumers immediately and indignantly start to repeat the rationalizations originally invented by the industry to serve the industry’s financial interests.

FYI, putting huge hurdles in the way of people providing a good does not generally result in higher quality. Many economic studies have been done of licensing requirements. To quote one review of the evidence, “most research does not find that licensing improves quality or public health and safety.” That’s not some libertarian propaganda piece; that’s a quotation from an Obama administration report on professional licensing laws (https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/sites/default/files/docs/licensing_report_final_nonembargo.pdf). Everyone who looks at it agrees, however, that these sorts of barriers definitely do increase prices.

The industries where things are going well — products are affordable, well-adapted to consumer needs, and there is frequent innovation — are not industries with large barriers to entry. They’re the opposite, areas where new entry is easy and frequent. And they do not have terrible quality. If anything, quality tends to be higher in the industries with lower barriers, because they are more competitive. Competition drives up quality. (The tech industry has little regulation and low barriers to entry; that’s why it has frequent innovation, high quality, and decreasing prices.)

(d)

We should reduce legal liability in medicine. Doctors should not fear multi-million-dollar lawsuits for honest mistakes.

. . .

None of suggestions (a)-(c) are even on the public radar screen. No political leader comes close to entertaining any of them. I assume the reason is either (1) that our leaders want prices to keep going up, because they’re in the pocket of the industry, or (2) that no leader (and hardly any citizens either) has given serious, informed, and non-ideological thought to the American health care problem — nor bothered to consult anyone who has.

As long as this continues to be the case, we’re just going to keep pouring more and more of our economy into this industry, without getting any more benefits in return.

Case Against Education

(Based on an FB status update from 11/6/2017.)

My comments on Bryan Caplan’s book, The Case Against Education, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076ZY8S8J/. (Libertarian scholars like to bite the hand that feeds them. Compare Jason Brennan’s Cracks in the Ivory Tower, https://www.amazon.com/dp/0190846283.)

I read Bryan’s ms. before publication, and it was excellent – very clear, compelling, and interesting.

Thesis: The economic value of education is mainly due to signaling.

Explanation: Education pays off for students because getting a degree signals to employers that you have certain desirable traits, such as intelligence, perseverance, and the ability to follow instructions. It’s not that college gives you those traits; it’s just that those who lack them don’t complete a college degree. College generally does not teach useful skills.

Evidence: Caplan reviews a ton of scholarly evidence, which is collectively very compelling. I can’t review it all here. But a few interesting observations:

  • Education is one of very few products where the buyer doesn’t seem to want it. If you cancel class, the students aren’t angry; they’re happy. For what other product would the customer be happy if they didn’t receive it? The implication is that students don’t want to be educated; they’re not paying for knowledge.
  • Students hardly remember anything they learn in a typical college (or even high school) class. Six months after the class is over, they’re going to have forgotten most of what the course was about. (Exception: basic reading and arithmetic skills.) This is widely recognized. So it can’t be that the economic value of schooling is due to the valuable information one learns.
  • Just look at a typical college class. We teach all kinds of obviously impractical subjects. (Exceptions: engineering, business.)
  • A favorite claim of educators: “We don’t teach people what to think; we teach them how to think.” Problem: there is virtually no empirical evidence that we actually do this. People in educational psychology have studied “transfer of learning” – roughly, the extent to which students transfer lessons they learned in one context to a slightly different context; that is, the extent to which their learning generalizes to make them better at tasks they weren’t explicitly taught to do. The results are generally negative: transfer of learning typically just does not happen, as far as we can measure. Given this, the idea that we make people generally better at thinking is only a wishful assertion. And that is how the claims on behalf of college education generally are: hopes with no empirical support. Everything that we can measure says that schooling is (with a few exceptions) ineffective, so wishful defenders of schooling move to claims of unmeasurable, unobservable benefits.
  • Statistically, almost all of the economic value of schooling accrues at the end. If you complete 3.5 years of your degree program but don’t get the degree, you get little economic value (little increase to your expected earnings). You get the big bump in earnings when you get the diploma. This is hard to square with the theory that the economic value of education is due to learning useful information and skills (do colleges wait until the very end to confer the useful information and skills?).

Some potential implications:

  • a. More education won’t obviously increase productivity for society. Getting a degree increases your earnings, not by making you more productive, but merely by enabling you to outcompete other candidates for a job. If everyone gets more schooling, that will just raise the bar for what you have to do to edge out other candidates.
  • b. It doesn’t really matter (to the economic function of schooling, or what the students are really paying for) what we educators teach, or how well we teach the material. We only need to make it sufficiently challenging that it qualifies as a test of general intelligence, perseverance, and similar traits. (Whew! That makes me feel better for teaching lessons about brains in vats and runaway trolleys.)

My comment: Most of the above is summary of Caplan (except implication b above, which I think I added). But I think Caplan makes a powerful case. We educators, for obvious reasons, would not like to believe all this. But we should fight against our own biases to try to evaluate the argument objectively.

An objection to (a): Actually, signaling is economically valuable. You don’t have to be producing good things in order to be contributing to the economy; you could contribute by providing useful information about where good things are and thus where resources should be directed.

Analogy: Geological surveyors do not produce any natural resources; they merely identify where already-existing resources are located. But that is an extremely valuable service; we should not drastically reduce geological surveying activities upon realizing that they don’t physically produce the natural resources. Similarly, perhaps higher education’s signaling function is highly useful, since it prevents employers from wasting a lot of resources on employees who will not meet their needs.

Now, on the face of it, it seems that this function should be able to be provided at much lower cost in time and money. But economists usually do not second guess the market. The market has selected this method of sorting people, so maybe that means that it is really the most efficient. If you think you can do it more efficiently, you can start a business implementing your idea, and make a bunch of money. If no one is doing that, it may be because there isn’t really a good way of doing it.

This of course is not the defense of education that most educators would prefer. But it’s the best defense I can see of the economic value of college education that’s consistent with Caplan’s evidence.

Practical Deference

UT-Austin

I’m in Austin for the AGENT conference (Austin Graduate Ethics & Normativity Talks). I did the keynote address yesterday. Here is a summary of what I talked about.

1. Practical Deference as Solution to Disagreement

The Problem of Disagreement

In any human social group that is trying to cooperate for some common ends, it is almost inevitable that there will arise intractable disagreements about what course of action the group should follow. These disagreements may stop the group from undertaking any coordinated action, may induce group members to directly harm each other, and may waste resources. If there is no solution to the problem, it threatens to disrupt all social cooperation.

The Solution

Social groups have developed one extremely common type of solution. It is that the group members who disagree on the best course of action can nevertheless agree on a process for deciding on what to do. For this to work, three things are required:

  1. It must be easier to agree on what is a fair process than it is to agree on what is the right course of action.
  2. It must also be relatively easy to agree on what the process’ actual outcome is in individual cases. E.g., people who don’t agree on the right policy can usually still agree that taking a vote is a fair way of deciding, and can usually agree on what the actual outcome of the vote is.
  3. Group members must be disposed to defer to the group’s decision, once that process has been employed, even when they regard its outcome as the wrong decision. This deference includes obeying (not outright violating) the decision, as well as more broadly going along with the decision, which may require positively helping to implement it.

A Puzzle

There is a prima facie question about the last condition. How is it rational to defer to the decision that you, ex hypothesi, regard as wrong? We can suppose even that you know the decision to be wrong. Why isn’t this an objectionable demand to sacrifice your autonomy and personal integrity?

Thesis

I argue that there are good moral reasons for such deference, in most typical private groups. But these reasons do not apply to the state or “society” as a whole, so there typically are no such good reasons to defer to the state.

2. Why Defer: The Private Case

In most normal cases, members of some private (non-government) group have some obligation to defer to the decisions of the group. There are several reasons for this:

  • There may be an obligation to show respect to other group members and their judgment.
  • Group members often have a sort of implicit contract with each other, which requires going along with the group decision. This implicit contract is accepted by voluntarily joining the group. Failure to go along with group decisions can thus be seen as breaking faith with one’s fellow group members, and disappointing their justified expectations.
  • Going along with the group’s decision helps to maintain the group’s spirit of cooperation. Going against the group’s decision risks causing other group members to similarly fail to go along with group decisions that they disagree with, and risks causing a breakdown of cooperation.

Example: A philosophy department is hiring a new professor. The department has voted to rank candidate A over candidate B, and thus to make an offer to A, and then, if A turns it down, to give the job to B next. The dept Chair, however, reasonably believes that B is better than A, and that B would definitely accept an offer. The Chair has to extend the offer to A. He could, however, sabotage the hire. He could, e.g., give a negative impression of the department to the candidate, in talking to A over the phone. He could forget to mention some of the advantages of his department, while being admirably forthright about its disadvantages. These things would make A likely to reject the offer, so the job will go to the better candidate, B. Is that what Chair should do?

Of course the answer is no. The Chair has to do his best to recruit A. Trying to sabotage A would (a) disrespect the other dept members, (b) violate the implicit job requirements that he accepted in becoming chair, and (c) risk damaging the cooperative culture of the department.

3. Why Defer: The Political Case

I think the above are good moral reasons for deferring in most typical private cases, where the group you belong to is a private group. You might think this could be extended to the political case, so that we would have obligations to go along with the rules that are made by your government (perhaps only if it is a democratic government).

This would be a stronger obligation than merely obeying the law. Going along with the law may require actively helping to implement it. E.g., if you’re a government official, you might be tasked with arresting law-violators, prosecuting them, or punishing them. If you’re on a jury, you might be asked to convict them. Refusing to do these things would not be actually breaking the law, but it would be refusing to go along with the law.

I claim that the reasons in section 2 fail to apply in the political case. As a result, I think you have no significant moral reason, in typical cases, to defer to the policies made by the state.

Here is how the state (typically) differs relevantly from most private organizations:

  1. In the political case, you have about zero chance of changing the cooperative culture of your society. If, for example, you practice jury nullification, you really don’t need to worry that future juries will retaliate against you by convicting some innocent people, or acquitting some people who deserve to be convicted.
    • Exception: if you are a high-ranking government official, then you may have a good chance of changing your nation’s political culture.
  2. In the political case, the state has already broken its implicit agreement with the people, many times. Here are some of the legal doctrines the state has adopted:
    • Sovereign immunity: No one can sue the government, unless the government agrees to be sued.
    • Judge/prosecutor immunity: No one can sue a judge or a prosecutor for anything that they do in carrying out their job. E.g., you can’t sue a prosecutor even if he deliberately sends an innocent person to the electric chair.
    • Government agents have no duty to do anything for citizens. E.g., police have no duty to protect citizens; the Department of Social Services has no duty to protect children from abuse; etc. (See Warren v. District of Columbia, DeShaney v. Winnebago County, et al.)
    • The Constitution authorizes the federal government to do almost anything, because it authorizes Congress to “regulate commerce among the states” (article I, sec. 8), and this means the government can make any law that has an effect on interstate commerce. (See Wickard v. Filburn.)
    • My point about these examples is not simply that these are mistaken doctrines. My point is that these doctrines have no reasonable defense, are obviously in bad faith, and are obviously just invented to serve the state’s own interests. Thus, even if you think there is a contract between the state and the people, you should think the state has broken the contract, and therefore, you may break the contract too.
  3. The idea of an implicit contract with the state or with “society” is much less plausible than the idea that there is an implicit contract between a dept chair and the department, or between an individual member of some other voluntary organization and that group.
  4. Background legitimacy: Most private organizations are basically legitimate & voluntary organizations. But the state is an organization originally created by violence and exploitation, and coercively imposed on people still.
  5. Justice: Few of the mistakes made by private groups are actually major injustices. But nearly all mistakes made by the government are injustices, and many or most of them are major injustices.
    • To make a private case that was analogous to a typical political case, imagine again that you’re in a philosophy department, and you disagree with the department’s decision on some policy. This time, though, imagine that the department has voted to kidnap a student who has been complaining about her professors, and lock that student in the department basement for three years. Now do you have a moral obligation to go along with the departmental decision?
  6. Competence: In typical cases, the original decision-makers (voters) are utterly incompetent, much worse than the decision-makers in a typical private group. Most voters in the U.S., for example, don’t know the name of their Congressional representative. Most can’t name the form of government they live under (given the choices “Direct democracy,” “republic”, “oligarchy”, and “confederacy”). Most cannot name the three branches of their government. I mention these things because these seem like the most minimal things you could know about the government. And the decision-making process in which they engage commonly completely ignores obvious justice-based considerations. For instance, voters commonly completely ignore the question of whether drug prohibition violates the rights of drug users.
    • To make an analogous case with a private organization, return to the philosophy department choosing a new hire. Imagine that most of the department members don’t even know the names of the candidates until they receive their ballots in the department meeting. While people are arguing about the candidates, most members are sitting there playing games or viewing cat pictures on their phones. Most of them don’t even know that they’re in a philosophy department; some think they’re in an English department, or a History department, etc. And after ignoring the arguments, the members vote in an obviously unjust way — e.g., they vote to give the job to Charles Manson, because the other candidate was black. In this case, do you have an obligation to respect that decision?

Conclusion

Even though we are often obligated to defer to misguided group decisions, in ordinary private contexts, we are not similarly obligated to defer to government-made laws in democratic (or other) societies.

Click-bait journalism is selfish and immoral. But it works.

Think of the epistemic environment as an intellectual commons. To get a deeper understanding of the world, it helps to have a wide range of ideas to consider, especially when arguments are given to support them. This helps us justify our beliefs, which tends to be good for everyone.

But some people are motivated to pollute the commons with false beliefs that aim to please an audience or promote a political outcome. Examples include dishonest political advertisements and biased journalism intended to provoke outrage. Each of us internalizes the benefit of adding a bit of epistemic pollution, but all of us share the costs. Journalists and activists know that motivated reasoning pervades politics, and that if they repeat dubious accusations or false beliefs that titillate their audience, the beliefs are more likely to stick, and the articles they write are more likely to be shared. Mike Huemer summarizes some of the reasons for this in a previous post.

Dishonest journalism is nothing new, and to some extent it just reflects what consumers of news want to hear. The benefits of making bombastic claims go to the writer of a story, and to those who get a dopamine hit from consuming it and feeling outraged. But the costs accrue to all of us in the epistemic commons, who find it harder to figure out what to believe.

When our indignation is activated, we feel like our lives gain meaning. Don Quixote is a comical character who symbolizes the rush we get from fighting injustice, whether real or imagined.

Don Quixote slaying giants

The social isolation of large, liberal societies tends to make this worse. Many people find meaning in political movements in the same way true believers find direction from religious institutions. As religious belief wanes in free and prosperous societies, religious wars give way to political battles. Journalists and academics assume the position of a secular clergy who take it upon themselves to burn the heretics who challenge sacred dogmas. Those of us who attempt to bend or break the Overton Window of acceptable belief are crucified by the Cathedral. Our ideas are attacked as wicked rather than engaged with. Journalists cash in on indignant mobs. They also create them.

There are many ways of writing click bait journalism, and many sources of “evidence” to appeal to. Some organizations specialize in producing biased data that journalists can go to when they want to assassinate a political opponent. For example, some journalists use the SPLC’s “hate map” to discredit political opponents who they don’t know how to argue against. Everyone who’s studied the issue knows the SPLC is a rapacious and morally bankrupt organization that manipulates data to generate outrage and increase their donations.

The thing is, it works. The SPLC smears people like former Muslims Aayan Hirsi Ali and Maajid Nawaz as “Islamophobic” for criticizing female genital mutilation, and for exalting the virtues of Western societies.

There are many other examples online. A website called RationalWiki is an especially egregious offender, and it is – predictably enough – promoted by Google’s search algorithm. It provides an outlet for zealots to create hit pieces against people and publishers whose ideas they disagree with. Because it mimics the template of Wikipedia, which is considered somewhat credible by casual readers, journalists and activists sometimes use it as a source.

Click-bait journalism benefits those who create and consume it. But in the long run it harms all of us. When we’re confronted with hit pieces aimed at indulging our desire to be outraged, readers should refuse to click and targets should refuse to apologize. The only way to clean up the intellectual commons is to shame the mobs and protect their targets.

Research — Who Needs It?

Here’s the background for the title question. An enormous amount of research is being done by academics (myself included), in all manner of fields. This research is valued by the prestigious universities, which are all “research universities”. They generally expect their (tenure-track) faculty to publish, and to keep publishing year after year. And there is a good deal of support of various kinds for academic research, from universities and government and private donors.

It would be of interest to have some sort of assessment of the typical value of a piece of academic research. Is most research, perhaps, intrinsically valuable? Does it produce benefits for academics? Does it produce benefits for society? If it produces benefits, are they large benefits, or small ones?

I won’t comment on intrinsic value. As to the rest, I think the benefits of the vast majority of academic research are tiny at best, possibly negative, and much less than the costs.

1. The Research Status Quo

In case you’re not an academic and don’t know this, let me paint a brief picture of the academic research situation. (Some of this was touched on in an earlier post, http://fakenous.net/?p=768.)

a. Quantity

Start with the simplest feature: quantity. Now, I don’t know how much total research exists, but here’s what I know about my own field. I estimate there are 600 new academic philosophy articles and books written per week in the English-speaking world, or over 30,000 a year.* As this has been going on for some time, there are at least hundreds of thousands of philosophy books and articles, possibly millions.

*Basis: Many years ago, I read that the Philosopher’s Index, which indexed most English-language books and articles published in philosophy, received over 14,000 new records per year. Today, a search on Philpapers.org, which again indexes most English-language philosophy papers & books (including some unpublished mss.), finds 614 records added in the past week containing the words “a”, “the”, “of”, or “is” (restricted to professional authors only).

Philosophy, alas, is not the only field of study. I don’t know exactly how many fields there are, or how philosophy compares to the others in publication quantity. But I can tell you that my university offers, by my count, a total of 79 distinct majors. I assume that all or almost all of those represent fields with their own journals, publishing their own articles. If they were all as prolific as philosophy, that would be two-and-a-half million new academic articles and books a year.

It is literally impossible to generally keep up with the literature in any academic discipline. And yet, in order to publish your own articles, you are generally expected to be familiar with the literature relevant to your topic.

The casualty of this is discussion of broad questions that bear on many other questions that we are interested in — in other words, the most interesting sort of discussion. If you try to write about a broad question that intersects with many other issues, then you multiply the mountain of papers you have to go through to be a responsible scholar.

b. Topics

Which brings me to the second typical feature of academic research: the topics that we research. To make it possible to stay reasonably current on the relevant literature, academics have divided their fields of study into increasingly narrow sub-fields, choosing the most microscopic little questions to focus on. Even then, staying current on the literature in your own sub-sub-field is challenging.

For example, a philosopher might work on free will, in which case that might be the only thing, or almost the only thing, that that philosopher ever writes about in his entire career. And the free will philosopher’s typical paper would not (as you might naively assume) address whether we have free will or not. There are too many papers and books already talking about that, so it’s almost impossible to publish anything straight-out addressing that question. Rather, a typical paper would say something like: “I argue that Smith’s latest response in the Northeastern Journal of Nitpicking Philosophers (2018) to Jones’ objection to consequence-style arguments for the incompatibility of free will and determinism does not succeed in refuting Jones’ objection. But I’m not saying Jones’ objection is right, or that other responses don’t refute it, and I’m not saying anything about whether free will is compatible with determinism, let alone whether we have free will.”

Again, I only know my own field. But I’m sure that other academic fields are focused on similarly tiny, recherche topics that it would be hard to get anyone outside the field to care about. E.g., if someone is studying literature, they’re probably writing papers on the use of arboreal imagery in the early writings of the 14th-century Ignoterran author Blabbius Obscurius.

c. Style

So the quantity of academic writings guarantees that almost all of them will be read by almost no one. The topics of these writings further guarantee that. In addition, though, even if you for some reason had a great interest in Blabbius Obscurius’ early arboreal imagery, there is one more obstacle to reading most academic work: the style of the writing. Most academic writing is designed to be a creditable substitute for Benadryl, for those who need help falling asleep at night.

I take an example from Steven Pinker, who found this sentence in an academic psychology article:

“Participants read assertions whose veracity was either affirmed or denied by the subsequent presentation of an assessment word.”

After some detective work, Pinker figured out what this meant: the people who participated in the study read some statements, each followed by the word “true” or “false”. (https://stevenpinker.com/files/pinker/files/why_academics_stink_at_writing.pdf)

Now imagine reading a whole 25-page article written in that style. Most academic authors either don’t care about readability, or don’t have a clue how to produce it. Now you know why academics rarely complain of insomnia.

Here, by the way, are the actual article titles from a recent academic journal issue:

“Local Grammars and Discourse Acts in Academic Writing: A Case Study of ‘Exemplification’ in Linguistics Research Articles”
“Bringing a Social Semiotic Perspective to Secondary Teacher Education in the United States”
“Investigating the Effects of Reducing Linguistic Complexity on EAL Student Comprehension in First-year Undergraduate Assessments”

d. Support

As I say, there is a good deal of support out there for academic research. To begin with, at research universities (including all the “good” universities), the tenure-track faculty are generally given lower teaching loads — like, half the number of classes that people have at teaching-focused schools — to enable us to churn out more research.

Then there are things like sabbaticals (where we get to take off either half a year or a year to go do research), research fellowships (where someone provides monetary support for academics doing research for some time period, free of teaching), and grants provided by government and private donors to pay for research that has nontrivial expenses associated with it. There are things like, e.g., the NEH, the ACLS, and the Templeton Foundation.

There are also prizes given out for academic research, like the APA book prizes and various article prizes.

There are also funds available from universities and donors for things like inviting speakers from another school to come to your university, or organizing academic conferences with speakers from various universities.

And of course, prestige in the academic world is basically 100% connected to research.

2. How Good Is Research?

I had to tell you all that to give you some basis for assessing how valuable the typical piece of academic research is. Or: how much does society need more research?

a. Background Concepts from Econ

Two important ideas from economics apply here:

(1) Opportunity Costs: When we evaluate anything, what matters is usually how that thing compares to its realistic alternatives. Academic research consumes resources. So, is this research more or less valuable than the other things that we could do with those resources?

(2) Marginal Costs and Benefits: Also, when we evaluate anything, what matters for practical purposes is generally the thing’s marginal cost or benefit. E.g., we have millions of academic books already, and they’re here to stay. The practically relevant question is: how much value is added when another book is produced, given the supply that we already have?

When I say most academic research has little to no value, you might misunderstand this to be saying that this work lacks cognitive value, value judged by purely intellectual standards, and thus, e.g., that I would give most published articles an “F” if I were grading them. Of course that’s false. Most of it is intellectually sophisticated and contains some rational reasoning contributing to some kind of knowledge. But the question is whether the addition of more such work to what we already have increases overall value to society, compared to other things we could be doing. To that, the answer is almost always no.

b. Opportunity Cost

Part of the cost of academic research is the money that goes to support it. Some of this money is charitable dollars that could of course go to support much more cost-effective measures to help the world. (See https://animalcharityevaluators.org and https://www.givewell.org for the best charitable causes.)

Here’s the other main cost: academic research is absorbing the time and energies of thousands of academics. These are generally the sort of people who could be among society’s most productive members. They tend to be

(i) highly intelligent; indeed, research universities house some of the highest-IQ people you’ll find anywhere; and

(ii) conscientious and hardworking — particularly those who are successful researchers at prestigious universities, which is an extremely competitive area.

Those are the main things that could make someone extremely productive and beneficial to society . . . unless that person has their prodigious abilities and energies diverted into playing insular intellectual games with other smart people.

So, to justify the amount of academic research we’re doing, we would have to say that producing more of the material described in section 1 above tends to be better for society than having these people working in other areas — whatever other professions the smartest, most hardworking people would be most likely to join if they weren’t academic researchers. Does that sound likely to you?

c. Diminishing Returns

Academic publications are not like other goods, where the more of it we produce, the more of the good people can enjoy. E.g., if we produce more cars, then (for a while) more people can enjoy the benefits of a car. Not so for, e.g., philosophy books: there is no need to write additional books in order to supply additional readers of philosophy, since every person can already enjoy every philosophy book that has been written. All we have to do is copy some existing books onto new consumers’ computers. As economists say, cars are a rivalrous good; books are non-rivalrous.

Furthermore, the existing books are already more than any human being could read in a million years. So no one has to write more books in order for more people to read books.

It’s a little bit like if you had a thousand people working in a factory every day manufacturing blue jeans for you, when you already have a pile of 10 million pairs of blue jeans. (And you can’t sell them.) The marginal value of jeans would have reached zero, if not negative.

That being said, there are still reasons why writing a new book could add some value. Perhaps none of the existing books suffices to satisfy certain consumer demands — perhaps because some consumers have extremely specific tastes, or there are important truths that the existing books have not yet uncovered. (For example, see the books listed here: https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Huemer/e/B001H6GHNU. These obviously added enormous value to the stock of philosophy books.)

But the above reflections set a high bar. Imagine that you made a reading list containing only the best books for you to read that exist. The list contains enough books to fill up all your reading time for the rest of your life. Let’s say, 500 books (I don’t suppose you’re going to read more than that). By stipulation, they’re the best books from the standpoint of whatever you want from a book.

Now, my writing a new book benefits you only if my new book is good enough to displace one of the books on that list. So, in this example, my new book would have to be one of the 500 best books ever written (from your standpoint). There are tens of millions of books in existence, so that is a really, really tall order.

Caveat: These would be the books most suited to you as an individual reader, which is not necessarily the books that you would take to be “best” in an objective or quasi-objective sense. E.g., you might prefer to read Goodnight Moon over Principia Mathematica, even though the latter is objectively better. Readers differ a lot in what they want, so there could be many books that are among someone’s top 500. So that makes it less ridiculous to think that I could now write a book that adds some value.

After thinking about the above points (even with the caveat), it is very plausible to think that most new academic books add either very little or no value at all to the existing stock of books.

Side note about science vs. humanities: It is plausible that there is a lot more room for useful research in natural science, because there really are a whole lot of extremely specific bits of scientific knowledge about tiny questions that have some practical application. The case is otherwise for knowledge whose main value is the satisfaction that readers get from learning it, which would be the case for most (putative) knowledge in the humanities. Social science is an in-between case.

d. Falsity

There are reasons why a piece of research might actually have negative value. The first reason is that, rather than expanding human knowledge, it might promote false ideas.

“Yes, but is that plausibly the case for most academic books and articles?”

Does the Pope wear a funny hat? Absofuckinglutely. Of course most philosophical articles and books are largely false. I know that because the vast majority of them conflict, in their main claims, with multiple other articles and books (usually by other philosophers). It has been said that the one thing a philosopher can be counted on to do is to disagree with other philosophers. That’s how we know that philosophers are usually wrong.

Well, maybe you could be reliably right if you mainly just make negative points, pointing out errors that other philosophers have made, not advancing your own theories. Sure, and a large amount of published philosophy is like that. But that’s also not a very interesting or valuable kind of philosophy, and it would be odd to try to justify producing 30,000 philosophy articles a year just to correct the errors in other philosophy articles. Unless we sometimes learn significant philosophical truths, other than truths about other philosophers’ mistakes, it’s hard to justify the amount of effort going into the activity.

But, again, when a philosopher advances important, substantive philosophical theses, they are usually wrong. To the extent that they persuade people, they will be worsening our understanding of the things that matter.

In case you think that this is all radically different from scientific research, which is presumably advancing our knowledge all the time, have a look at this famous article by John Ioannidis: http://robotics.cs.tamu.edu/RSS2015NegativeResults/pmed.0020124.pdf,
which explains why most published scientific research results are false. E.g., most of the time, when someone tries to replicate a published result, they can’t replicate it.

e. Distraction

Here is the other reason why research may have negative value: research that is of low to medium quality makes it harder to find the research that is of the highest quality.

Imagine there is a pile of hay with some needles in it. People like to find the needles. If you add a bunch of hay to the pile, you’re making things worse. Each strand of hay that isn’t a needle makes it harder to find the needles.

Similarly, each mediocre article makes it harder to find the best articles. Since there are already more top-quality articles than anyone could read in their lifetime, there is no need to add anything other than top-quality articles to the pile. But of course most new articles people write are only about average, not top-quality. So there’s no reason to add them to the pile.

3. The Economic Function of Research

If an alien showed up and looked at this system, they would find this all pretty strange. Why do we have hundreds of thousands of our most talented people every year spending their time churning out millions of badly-written papers, about unimportant topics, that nobody wants to read? Maybe the professors are doing it because they get paid to, or they enjoy it. But how on Earth is there money to hire all these people to do this?

Part of the answer is that the government subsidizes universities. But that really isn’t the main answer. The main subsidies are student loans and grants, which explains why we have a lot of teaching but doesn’t really explain why we’re doing so much research. Why not cut costs by only hiring instructors and adjuncts, who get paid a fraction of what tenure-track faculty earn and do twice as much teaching? Universities must think they are getting something really important out of all this research. What is it?

The answer is prestige. The prestigious universities are the ones with the “best” faculty, which means the most well-known researchers, the ones whose work is being talked about by the other researchers. Universities care about prestige because students want to go to the most prestigious university they can. In terms of the signaling model of education, we could explain this by saying that going to a top university signals that one is extra-smart and hardworking.

So if a university hires better faculty, it can perhaps, over a long period of time, increase its prestige, which attracts more students to apply, which means it can select smarter students to come, which means that its graduates are smarter, which further increases the university’s prestige and also enables the university to attract better faculty. It’s a positive feedback loop.

So the goal of a piece of research is to get people to talk about that research. The literature is a bunch of intellectuals all clamoring for attention.

Prestige is different from most goods. It is a positional good, and it is zero-sum. Universities commonly measure prestige by rankings, like this one, which is very widely consulted in philosophy: https://www.philosophicalgourmet.com/overall-rankings/
The total amount of ranking-related goodness is fixed. If I help my department go up in the rankings, this is by definition at the expense of other departments.

From the standpoint of society overall, resources spent on prestige-chasing are wasted resources. If everyone spent half as much resources trying to garner prestige, the rankings would be unchanged, and the overall quantity of prestige would be about the same.

4. Will I Stop? Not a Chance.

How can I go on and on about how we don’t need all this research, when I myself have already contributed more than my share to the mountains of contemporary philosophical research that hardly anyone reads? Given all I’ve said above, you might think that I should stop piling on.

Of course I have no intention of ceasing philosophical research. I’m going to keep turning out papers and books until I’m too feeble to type. There are a few reasons for this:

  1. Whatever you think about the above remarks, it still is clearly the case that I individually will be appreciated and rewarded for producing more publications.
  2. I love philosophy, and I like writing and communicating interesting ideas to others in a clear way. (E.g., this blog does not earn money or academic prestige. It’s just for communicating ideas to people.)
  3. My research is unusual in that it actually adds value to the existing body of literature, because it is better than almost all other research. In particular,
    • It is mainly true.
    • It is also reasonably well written.
    • It is also generally about important and interesting things.

Are my books actually among the 500 best books ever written? Well, not for all readers, of course. But for a significant portion of readers, yes, they are.

With that, I refer you to my list of books :): http://www.owl232.net/books.htm.

In Defense of Illegal Immigration

Today (Oct. 19, 2019), I’m participating in the Open Borders Conference at the New School in New York — https://freemigrationproject.org. In keeping with that, here is a post about why illegal immigration is cool. There’s no reason to respect immigration laws.

1. Ethical Questions About Illegal Migration

  • Many people — at least politicians during campaigns — appear to express some indignation and condemnation at people who have “violated our laws!!” by immigrating illegally. Are such attitudes appropriate?
  • Sometimes it is suggested that these illegal migrants should be punished for their presumed misdeed. Would that be just?
  • If you have the chance to migrate and thereby improve your overall welfare, but doing so would be illegal, do you have a reason to refrain out of respect for the laws of your desired destination country?

I suggest that the answer to all of these is “no”. Potential illegal migrants have no moral reason to respect immigration laws.

2. Things I Am Not Assuming

I am skeptical about political authority. I think that no state is legitimate, no one has political obligations, and no one has political authority. That stance would make it easy to answer the above questions. Since there is no obligation to obey the law in general (merely because it’s the law), there is also no obligation to obey immigration laws.

Unfortunately, not everyone has read my book on The Problem of Political Authority. Worse, even some who have read it don’t agree with it. So let’s suppose we bracket that. I mention the issue of authority only to make clear that I am not assuming any controversial stance on that.

I also am not assuming anything controversial about the justification of immigration laws.

In other words, my claim is that even if the state has authority, and even if the immigration laws are entirely justified, there is still no moral reason at all for potential immigrants to respect the immigration laws.

How can that be? Briefly, (1) even if the state has authority, that authority only extends to its own citizens; and (2) even if there are good reasons for the state to adopt immigration restrictions, those reasons are not reasons that the migrants themselves have. (You might have a reason to try to prevent me from doing something, even while I have no reason not to do it.)

3. Accounts of Authority

Basically, all extant accounts of authority imply that the state’s authority would not extend to potential illegal immigrants. I don’t agree with any of these theories, but let’s pretend that we think one of them is correct.

a. The Social Contract Theory

On this account, the state’s authority derives from a contract with its citizens. We have to obey the government’s laws, because we somehow (“implicitly”?) agreed to do so, in exchange for the state’s protection.

On that view, this authority would not extend to would-be immigrants. People living in other countries are not parties to this state’s social contract, even if the social contract exists. So they would not be obligated to obey this state’s laws.

You might think: “Okay, they’re not now obligated by our laws. But once they migrate into ‘the government’s territory’, or perhaps when they start benefiting from some government services, they will become so obligated (even if they are not citizens). At that point, they will acquire an obligation to deport themselves, in order to stop violating the law.”

Here is the problem. A contract involves some sort of exchange of value. When you sign a rental agreement, you agree to exchange some amount of money for a space to live in. When you sign an employment contract, you agree to exchange labor for money.

In general, it cannot be a condition on a contract that one party give up the very good that they are entering into the contract to receive. For instance, in a rental agreement, there couldn’t be a clause that says the tenant can’t use the apartment in any way. In an employment contract, the employee could not be required to never cash his paychecks.

Now, the central point of the social contract is for individuals to secure the benefits of peaceful cooperation in a given society. That is what the individual is supposed to be entering into the contract for. Therefore, the individual cannot be required, under that contract, to renounce living in that very society. So there could not be a social-contract-based obligation to deport oneself.

b. Fair Play

The Fair Play account says that, when there is a cooperative scheme that produces benefits for all (including you), you generally ought to do your fair share in supporting it; you should not free ride on the efforts of others. Thus, you should obey the law, because general obedience to the law in society is required for there to be peaceful and orderly social cooperation. If you decide to break the law while others are obeying it, then you’re seeking to free ride on the sacrifices of others.

But it is a condition on having a fairness-based obligation that one actually receive a fair share of the benefits of the cooperative scheme in question. If the scheme produces benefits for others but excludes you, then you are not obligated to support it (at least, not by fairness considerations).

Thus, there is a similar constraint here as in the case of the social contract: it cannot be part of doing your “fair share” in supporting a cooperative scheme that you exclude yourself from the benefits of that very cooperative scheme.

Example: say you’re on a lifeboat with several other people. The boat is taking on water and needs to be bailed. You should do your fair share by bailing out the boat. On the other hand, if someone suggests that you should do your fair share by jumping overboard to lighten the load on the boat, that’s ridiculous. You don’t have to do that.

In the case of our alleged political obligations, fair play might require one to obey almost all other laws. But it could not require one to obey a law whereby one would be entirely excluded from the society, for then one would receive none of the benefits of the social cooperation that one was contributing to. Hence, fair play cannot support an obligation to obey immigration restrictions.

c. Democracy

Some say that the state’s authority is based on the will of the majority. Provided that the state is democratic, it has been authorized by the people to make the laws that it makes. For some reason, we have to obey the will of the people, so we have to obey those laws.

This theory obviously implies that non-democratic governments lack authority. Slightly less obviously, I think it also implies that those who are excluded by the state from the democratic process are also outside the state’s authority. Defenses of democracy tend to emphasize the good of equality, which democracy is said to realize (see Christiano), or the good of well-conducted public deliberation (see Habermas, Cohen).

But the immigration laws are made without any participation from the main group that is affected by those laws — the potential immigrants. They are given no vote, and no say in the making of those laws. So even if you think the democratic process confers authority on its outcomes in general, the potential immigrants in particular have no moral reason to respect these laws.

d. Freedom of Association

People in general have a right to freedom of association, which includes a right not to associate with others whom we do not wish to associate with. Perhaps this can be used to explain why the state has the right to make immigration restrictions — perhaps this is an exercise of a right to freedom of (non-)association on the part of the nation’s existing citizens.

Two problems: first, the right to avoid unwanted associations generally applies to substantial relationships, not extremely vague and tenuous “associations”. For instance, if I don’t like you, I can refuse to have you as an employee, friend, or spouse. I cannot, however, refuse to allow you to live in the same neighborhood as me — that is much too weak of an “association” for me to claim rights over. I have a right against your moving into my house, but not against your moving into my neighborhood.

Second, the right to freedom of association includes a right to veto one’s own associations with others, but does not include a right to veto other people’s associations. E.g., if I don’t like you, I can, again, refuse to hire, befriend, or marry you. But I cannot demand that third parties not hire, befriend, or marry you.

Now, immigration restrictions, to be justified by freedom of association, would require rights over extremely tenuous, vague associations — such as a right not to merely be in the same vast geographical region as a certain other person — or rights over other people’s associations — such as a right to demand that employers who want to hire a person not hire that person simply because you yourself don’t want them to.

In my view, individuals have a right not to associate with immigrants or would-be immigrants, if they so choose. That is, one could refuse to hire, befriend, marry, etc., an immigrant. But one cannot justly demand that an immigrant not live anywhere in the same country as oneself (on someone else’s property), nor can one justly demand that someone else not hire an immigrant (using their own money).

4. Reasons for Restriction

a. Jobs

Why should the state restrict migration? Some say that the state should do this in order to protect employment opportunities for low-skill native workers.

This might count as a reason for the state to restrict, provided that the state is justifiably partial toward low-skill native workers. But notice that this reason would not apply to the immigrants themselves — the immigrants themselves have no reason to be partial to native workers. The immigrants rationally prefer themselves to be hired, just as native workers prefer themselves to be hired. If it’s not wrong for a native worker to take a job that an immigrant could hold, then it’s not wrong for an immigrant worker to take a job that a native could hold.

So, even if this is a good reason for the state to restrict, it isn’t a good reason not to illegally migrate.

b. Fiscal Burdens

Some say that immigration imposes fiscal burdens on the government because immigrants consume social services and pay lower-than-average taxes (due to being poor).

This might be a reason for the state to restrict, again assuming the state is justifiably partial to native citizens. But again, there is no reason for the immigrants themselves to be partial to native citizens. If it’s permissible for native citizens to consume social services and impose fiscal burdens on the state, then this should also be permissible for immigrants.

Now, some would say that it is impermissible to take handouts from the government. In that case, both natives and immigrants should refrain from doing it. But they still don’t have to completely exile themselves from the society.

c. Political Change

Some say that we should restrict migration to prevent immigrants from changing the political culture of our society, e.g., by voting for authoritarian policies and leaders.

Again, assume that this is a good reason for the state to restrict. It still wouldn’t be a good reason for the immigrants themselves not to illegally migrate. Of course, the immigrants, like all of us, should support freedom and not authoritarianism. If you have been voting for authoritarian candidates, what you should do is either start voting for good candidates or stop voting.

Many native-born voters support authoritarian values. No one thinks that they’re obligated to exile themselves. Similarly, there’s no reason why immigrants who support authoritarian values would be obligated to exclude themselves from the society. In both cases, they should change their values to support freedom; or, failing that, not participate in the political process.

Of course, illegal immigrants can’t vote anyway, so they don’t have to worry about directly supporting bad policies. Perhaps they should also be careful not to speak in favor of bad policies either.

Conclusion

Conclusion: even if the state has good reasons to restrict immigration and even if the state has authority (both of which points I doubt), there would still be no moral reason for the migrants themselves not to migrate illegally.

I discussed this all at greater length in my chapter contributed to this book: www.amazon.com/Open-Borders-Movement-Geographies-Transformation/dp/0820354260/

Politics and Leadership

The Puzzle of 2016

I try not to spend too much time talking about contemporary political figures, as they’ll go by the wayside soon enough. But the phenomenon of Trump and his 2016 victory is particularly interesting, for understanding America, and politics, and democracy. Many seasoned political experts were caught by surprise and puzzled. Many explanations have been offered (including some by me). I regret to say that I’m going to add to that pile now.

First, I think we should remind ourselves that the election was close, who won was partly a matter of chance, and therefore whatever conclusion you draw about “what this tells us about the American voter” should be one that you would draw regardless of who actually claimed the victory. If the weather had been different on election day, the outcome might have been different. But we’d still have the same basic question. Trump turned out to be far more popular and far more politically viable than almost any expert anticipated.

Maybe the biggest thing the case demonstrates is the chasm between the attitudes of the elites of our society and the attitudes of the masses.

Semantic note: “Elite” has an unusual sort of meaning. On the one hand, “elite” in many contexts means “extra good”. On the other hand, “elitist” is a term of censure in American politics. Anyway, I use it purely descriptively, not evaluatively. The “elites” are just the class of people who have unusually high influence, social status, and/or resources in society — for better or worse. The “masses” are everyone else.

Elites expected Trump to fail, and many continue to expect that, in part because most elites themselves found the idea of supporting Trump unimaginable. But a large portion of the masses turned out to have no trouble supporting him wholeheartedly. The elites (myself included) then started, as elites are wont to do, to develop theories about why this was so.

Most of these theories are at least somewhat intellectual explanations, that is, they cite aspects of the content of Trump’s message, or other ideas and values that (half of*) the masses allegedly believe in, that would tend to support voting for Trump. For example, perhaps the masses are largely racist, and they embraced a racist message that they heard in Trump’s speeches. Or perhaps they are merely nationalist. Or they believe that most Washington insiders are corrupt, and thus they preferred an extremely unconventional candidate. Or they have simply taken a very strong turn against left-wing political beliefs.

*Hereafter, I omit the qualifier “about half of”.

It’s Not About Belief

I don’t deny that these sorts of things have some influence, of course. But I think we elites vastly overemphasize them, when we try to understand voting patterns. We do this because we confuse the masses with ourselves.

I started to think this during the campaign, when I saw Republican voters preferring Trump over 15 other candidates. The Republican party was supposedly the conservative party, but … a person who was motivated by conservative beliefs obviously had many better choices. (And indeed, the people who were really serious about conservative beliefs were outraged by Trumpism. E.g., George Will abandoning the Republican party after a lifetime as a member.)

Furthermore, I heard that Trump’s support was strongest among evangelical Christians. This is striking because Trump is extremely far from being a good Christian. Indeed, if you believe in Christian virtues, it would be hard to find a less suitable exemplar than Trump.

No doubt it is still possible to come up with intellectual (belief-based) explanations for Trumpism. Maybe the putative evangelical Christian conservatives believe so strongly in the need to stop Mexican immigrants that this just overrides all other considerations. But we never thought this was the case before Trump came along, and it’s kind of a weird belief system for someone who professes Christianity to have.

So what is it?

Leadership Types

I think a large portion of voters vote, not based on political ideology, but based on perceived leadership personality. They have a general, implicit sense of what “a leader” is like, and they pick the candidate who strikes them as most leader-like.

Now, why would people do that? Don’t they know that ideology is more important?

Well, in fact it might be rational to disregard ideology. Most people have minimal knowledge about policy issues, and they know this fact about themselves. They have no intention of learning enough political information to evaluate competing policy proposals and overall ideological stances, either, since doing so is extremely time-consuming, possibly also very boring, and they know their vote almost certainly won’t make a difference anyway. So they may not have enough political beliefs to base a vote on (nor should they). (Pollsters sometimes drag “opinions” out of them, but these opinions are not held very seriously.) So they might as well just vote for whomever they feel like.

There are, of course, different sorts of leaders. Some are not natural leaders but just do the job because circumstances thrust it upon them (like most academic department chairs). Some leaders are consensus builders who try to lead by smoothing over differences and making everyone feel respected. Others lead by manipulating things behind the scenes. Others lead by flattery (most politicians). And still others lead by brute force.

The last is the “strongman” type. This type has an aggressive, extremely confident, fearless disposition. The strongman does not try to build consensus, but to crush opponents and force everyone to submit to his will.

Now, I’m not saying that everyone wants a strongman. But a large portion of people perceive that as the most genuine type of leader. Enough people, perhaps, to let a strongman figure triumph in an election, almost regardless of other considerations, provided that there is no challenger who has anywhere close to as much of the strongman personality traits.

Love for the Strongman

Why would anyone choose a strongman over more benevolent types of leaders? Isn’t that just obviously against one’s own interests?

Conjecture: it’s an evolutionary adaptation. Throughout our evolutionary past, going back to even before there were humans, our ancestors always lived with social hierarchies. Every society has them. Some people/primates control the resources and wield power over others.

The dominant primates, the ones who wield the most power, have generally been strongman type personalities, for obvious reasons. The dominant primate is the one who physically defeats others in combat. This requires an aggressive, low-empathy, highly confident personality, in addition to physical size and strength. Millions of years of evolution have thus conditioned us to think that this is what a leader is.

But, again, why would you actually choose such a leader, if you have a choice? Well, faction-forming has also probably been with our ancestors going back hundreds of thousands or millions of years. You choose a faction in order to get ahead. And when you do so, you want to choose the winning faction. It’s no good allying yourself with a would-be leader who is going to be defeated. If you’re not yourself going to be the leader, you have to ally yourself with the primate who is going to come out on top, in order to succeed in the society ruled by that leader.

So when we see a contest for a leadership role, something deep inside our brain whispers to us,

“Ally yourself with the strongman.”

“Choose the one who is most likely to kill the others.”

That thing isn’t the only force deciding our votes, thankfully. To some extent, we also consciously reason about who is likely to actually produce benefits for us and our society. But that little voice inside will sometimes get its way — especially when there is one candidate who is far and away the most aggressive.

Of course, few if any voters explicitly, consciously say to themselves, “I think I’ll vote for the strongman.” The little voice doesn’t literally speak to us. What it does is give us a general emotional attitude. When a candidate starts displaying strongman personality traits, we find ourselves feeling positively disposed toward him, we know not why.

But we quickly start to confabulate — that is, we start finding reasons to feel favorable towards that person. We look at aspects of the person’s message, or other information we have about him, for reasons why we might like him. There is always something we can come up with. When a pollster interviews us, we will say some of these reasons that we came up with. We won’t say, “It’s because he feels to me like the primate most likely to physically destroy the others,” even if that’s the truth.

The Irony of Democracy

This is the loophole — or rather, one of the loopholes — that enables democracy to be exploited with terrible results. In theory, democracy may trample on the rights of the minority, but at least it ought to ensure that leaders are chosen who do a non-terrible job of serving the interests of at least a majority of the people.

In theory. But only if you forget some unfortunate aspects of human psychology and model humans as well-informed, instrumentally rational choosers.

The problem is that we have inborn preferences, including especially the preference for strongman leaders, which are not only uncorrelated with the objective quality of leaders, but are actually strongly anti-correlated with leadership quality. We have a preference for the type of personalities that, when given power, are most likely to use it to exploit and harm others — people who are aggressive, over-confident, and low in empathy. Indeed, such people are the most likely to undermine democracy.

These sorts of instinct-based preferences, I would conjecture, are more pronounced among the masses, as compared to the elites of our society. For this reason, it is the preferences of the masses that are the greatest threat to the masses. The elites are needed to protect the masses from themselves. If the masses get exactly what they want in the short term, they will gladly surrender their liberty, surrender democracy, and submit themselves and their descendants to a tyrant. (For more, see this book, from which the title of this section is taken: The Irony of Democracy.)

The Impeachables

Some impeachment-related questions:

  1. What’s going to happen with the current impeachment efforts?
  2. What about so-and-so’s crimes??
  3. In general, what should Presidents be impeached for?
  4. What should be the standard of proof?
  5. What have we learned from this?

1. What’s Next?

The House

I expect that the House will pass some articles of impeachment against President Trump, for using the powers of his office to try to get Ukraine to dig up dirt on Biden, perhaps for obstructing justice on behalf of Paul Manafort, perhaps for an attempted coverup, and perhaps other things.

After everything that the Democrats have said, they can hardly back down now. I don’t see any possibility that Trump didn’t really do the main thing he’s accused of. He can’t very well claim that the telephone transcript that he himself released is wrong. I don’t know how many Republicans will vote yes on the impeachment articles, but I expect all or nearly all Democrats will do so, and that’s enough to pass the House.

The Senate

After the House impeachment vote, a 2/3 majority in the Senate is needed to remove Trump from office. People are saying that the Senate Republicans will never vote to convict. I think there’s a good chance they will. Some observations:

  • Nixon resigned because he knew he was going to lose the vote in the Senate, even though it was controlled by Republicans and he was a Republican. He was going to lose because they had him on tape talking about bribing the Watergate burglars, etc. The evidence against Trump seems similar, and the thing he’s accused of also seems similar to Nixon’s misdeeds, with the added issue of involving foreign powers. Another parallel: during Watergate, people were saying the same kinds of things they are saying now — that this was a politically-motivated smear campaign by the Democrats, etc. Some Nixon-supporters continued to think that until the end.
  • Republican politicians have gone along with Trump so far, which means they haven’t yet reached their limit. Presumably, there is some limit to what Trumpian behavior they will defend. Now, I’m not saying the Ukraine business is morally worse than anything else Trump has done. But it is more likely to constitute a breaking point for Republican support. This is partly because it’s an offense against non-partisan values, not an offense against a value especially associated with liberals; there is maybe a stronger case that it’s illegal than any other thing (that we can prove) Trump has done in office; it’s a simple case; and the evidence is clear-cut and undeniable. (Nixon had the advantage of being smarter and knowing what he had to conceal; Trump proudly handed over the key piece of evidence because he really has no idea how his behavior is wrong, and he’s out of touch with the values of the elites of this society.)
  • Republican leaders never liked Trump. He faced an unprecedented level of opposition from people in his own party in 2016 (there was nothing like that for Nixon). Most of them know that he’s bad for the party, bad for the country, and generally a bad person. Most have been pretending to be with Trump, only because they’re afraid of his base. No one in the government feels any loyalty to him. Senators are part of the Elite class of society, and Trump is out of step with the Elites; he is a candidate of the masses. Even though he’s a New York billionaire, his temperament and ways of thinking are plebeian.
  • Public opinion is likely to grow against Trump, as the public catches up with the story, and the Administration continues to prove unable to defend the President. If and when a clear majority of Americans turn against Trump, his apparent support among Republican leaders will vanish in a puff of smoke.

Who’s Going to Jail?

Rudy Giuliani, Bill Barr, and other Trump lieutenants involved with the Ukraine affair are the ones who should be most worried. In the Watergate scandal, Nixon ultimately escaped all criminal liability, because Ford pardoned him. Several other people, however, went to jail for conspiring with Nixon. (Ford didn’t care about those people; he was just concerned about his poor, maligned friend Richard, who surely had already suffered enough.)

It’s likely that Trump will similarly get off, but his lieutenants who foolishly carried out his bidding will go down for his crimes.

Biden

The big winner in this story is Elizabeth Warren. Biden is finished for 2020.

Trump’s accusation is that Joe Biden (successfully) pushed to get a prosecutor fired who was investigating the company that had hired Hunter Biden — and that Joe did this solely to protect Hunter’s income. Now, we can’t know for sure what was in Joe Biden’s mind, but his opposition to that prosecutor was not an idiosyncratic position. That prosecutor was widely viewed as corrupt, and his firing was welcomed in the EU (https://www.irishtimes.com/news/world/europe/eu-hails-sacking-of-ukraine-s-prosecutor-viktor-shokin-1.2591190).

But voters are not going to go do a bunch of background research to verify that. This is one of the reasons why one shouldn’t set up conflicts of interest for oneself — because if you subsequently claim that there was no improper influence, people are not going to believe you.

What is definitely true is that Hunter Biden took this job at a Ukrainian company with a reputation for corruption, getting paid $50k a month, while his father Joe was responsible for heading up U.S.-Ukrainian relations. No one disputes that. If you think that’s a coincidence, and the company hired Hunter because Hunter Biden just happened to be the best man for the job, I have a few bridges to sell you. Obviously, they were hoping to buy influence with the U.S. government. Whether they got what they paid for or not, it’s an obvious conflict of interest for the Bidens, and possibly illegal. Some people seem to have trouble comprehending the idea that both Trump and Biden could have done something wrong. (“But they’re from opposite political parties! How can you accuse both of them? Whose side are you on?!?”)

It’s too bad that the Bidens did this, because otherwise, Joe Biden would have been the strongest opponent to Trump in 2020 (assuming Trump will be running). But it is just for Biden’s prospects to be shot down by this conflict of interests. Maybe this will teach future politicians not to do something so dumb and unethical. For more on this sort of widespread, unethical practice, see: https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2019/09/hunter-bidens-legal-socially-acceptable-corruption/598804/.

The Election

Before this scandal broke, Trump was in good shape. It probably would have been a tight race, but he had a good chance of winning re-election. The economy is in excellent condition, and the obvious reasons why you would naturally think Trump couldn’t be elected (e.g., his large defects of character) were already true in 2016, when he was actually elected.

Now, however, I would be very surprised if he was the President in 2021. Granted, Trump’s hard-core base will never give up on him. If there was a videotape of him eating a human baby, with a signed confession by Trump himself talking about how delicious baby flesh was, they still wouldn’t turn against him. Trump could just tweet that the baby was a deep-state, Democratic operative who deserved to be eaten.

But presumably, there are some marginal voters — people who just slightly favored Trump over Clinton in 2016. If just a few percent of voters switch sides, that’s enough to ensure a Democratic victory. (Assuming similar numbers don’t switch sides the other direction, for some other reason.) It’s hard to imagine that not happening. So I don’t see how Trump can win.

That is, of course, assuming that Trump will even be running in 2020. He may be removed from office, or resign, or be replaced as the nominee by the Republican party. The Republicans’ best chance is probably to nominate someone else. (Perhaps Nikki Haley: https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2018/10/19/nikki-haley-2020-republican-party-221667.)

But I think the Republicans are going to lose. If the President is removed from office for corruption, it’ll be pretty hard to convince voters to pick someone else from the same party to succeed him. If the President survives, he’ll still probably lose the election because of the corruption.

2. What About So-and-So?

Americans today are unbelievably tribal and dogmatic. So the first reaction when someone from “your side” is accused of some wrongdoing is not to consider whether the accusation is true. The first reaction is to dogmatically insist that your guy is completely innocent.

If that’s not possible — because the evidence is indisputable and the action is indefensible — then the second thing that comes to mind is to ignore the accusation and just immediately start attacking the other side. Say that the accuser is a bad person or has committed various crimes. Or start talking about some completely unrelated case in which someone from “the other side” allegedly did something wrong. Or just go into standard, generic attacks on the other side.

This may seem lame (to people who are paying attention), but it’s the best play that dogmatic partisans have when they know their guy is in the wrong. If they’re lucky, they’ll derail the conversation — people will get caught up talking about their “what about x” and “what about y” ploys, and simply forget about the original accusation.

For example:

  • “The whistleblower is politically biased/a traitor/a Democratic operative/an operative of a deep state conspiracy.”
  • “The Democrats are trying to advance socialism/take away your guns/open the borders.”
  • “What about Hunter Biden?”
  • “What about Hilary Clinton’s emails?”
  • “What about Bill Clinton’s perjury?”
  • “What about FDR’s court packing plan?”

(Okay, I added the last one.)

Now, you might well think some or all of the above are legitimate concerns. Furthermore, they might well be unjustly neglected. Therefore, you might wonder, what’s wrong with bringing them up?

The problem in this case is that

  1. We actually need to know whether the original accusation is true.
    • If the President in office right now is corrupt, is undermining our system, is undermining U.S. foreign policy, etc., we kind of need to know that, and we need to do something about it sooner rather than later.
  2. The above ploys do not help us answer that.
    • Starting a debate about socialism doesn’t help us find out whether Trump is guilty of misconduct, partly because, obviously, that debate will never finish, so it’s just a permanent distraction.
    • Talking about the Clintons doesn’t help us, because even if Bill Clinton deserved to be removed from office, or Hilary deserved to be jailed, that doesn’t in any way support Trump’s position.
    • Etc.

It can’t seriously be said that discussing the attacks on the whistleblower, or Hilary or Bill Clinton, or even Hunter Biden, should take precedence over addressing whether the current head of the most powerful organization in the world needs to be removed from office. So it is difficult to regard the above ploys as good-faith discussion. They are, rather, efforts to obscure and distract.

They are also evidence that Trump-supporters know they have no way of actually defending the President’s behavior.

3. What Is Impeachable?

In my view, we need a lot more impeachment, for a lot more things. Presidents should be impeached for supporting obviously unconstitutional legislation, or taking other obviously unconstitutional actions. (But not for actions that could reasonably be defended as constitutional.) If this ever happened, Presidents might start taking their oaths to uphold the Constitution at least minimally seriously. Of course, this would never happen, since Congress has no regard for the Constitution either.

Presidents should also be impeached for committing major felonies (including doing so through proxies). Bush should have been impeached for authorizing torture, which is prohibited under U.S. law. Then Obama should have been impeached for ordering extrajudicial executions, which is also prohibited under U.S. law (the murder statutes do not contain a clause saying “…unless you’re the President”). If this were actually “a government of laws, not of men,” as the popular saying has it, then both of those men would now be serving life sentences.

Of course, these suggestions would be complete political non-starters in Washington. That just shows that Washington doesn’t believe in the Constitution, doesn’t believe any of its rhetoric about “the rule of law”. They all believe that government officials are above the law.

Some say that there should be a very high bar for impeachment, because removing the President is such a serious step. I heard one political insider saying that it has to be “the last resort”. Perhaps this is because the President is busy doing very important things, and he needs some leeway in order to be able to best serve our interests.

This is the exact opposite of the correct reasoning. Because the President is tasked with very important things, and because the President has so much power, we cannot afford to have someone immoral or incompetent in that office. That is, there must be extra high standards of behavior for the President, not extra high standards for removing the President.

Notice how those two things are basically the opposite of each other: to say that there should be a high bar for removing the President is to say that there should be a low bar for letting the President continue. Which would only make sense if you think the job is unimportant, that the decisions the President makes aren’t difficult or don’t really matter, so that it’s fine to have almost anyone making them.

If you think the job is important and difficult to do right, then we should impose the highest standards for the holders of that office. If we let the President continue virtually no matter what he does, if we almost never remove a President, then we are saying that there are little or no standards for this office — and Presidents will act accordingly.

With that said, I think another type of impeachable offense — whether or not it is illegal — is using the powers of one’s office for political gain. That sort of behavior should be immediately squashed whenever it is revealed. This should be done even if the other impeachable offenses mentioned above are not punished. The reason is that allowing this behavior risks establishing social norms under which this behavior is accepted. That, in turn, moves the country toward the norms of a dictatorship, the norms common in the worst-off countries in the world.

As a libertarian, I have been known to be critical of the U.S. government from time to time. Compared to a fully just society, ours is terrible. Nevertheless, corrupt dictatorship is many times worse. If you don’t recognize that, you’re delusional. Therefore, we should first take care not to let our society degenerate into dictatorship, before worrying about how to move to utopia.

4. The Standard of Proof

For the same reason, there should be a relatively low standard of proof for removing a President from office, perhaps just a preponderance of the evidence. Because, again, the job is too important and difficult to have a person who is probably corrupt in that position.

Why not an even lower standard — say, that of mere reasonable suspicion? Because if the standard were that low, this would encourage too many purely politically-motivated charges, which could generate chaos in the political system.

The framers of the Constitution required a 2/3 majority in the Senate for conviction, probably because they were worried about the power of impeachment being abused for partisan political reasons. Understandably enough (since they had no experience to draw on), they didn’t anticipate that this wasn’t going to be the main problem, and that the problem was instead going to be too much deference to the President. In hindsight, they should have required only a simple majority.

5. What Have We Learned?

Americans are probably going to learn approximately nothing from this episode. But here are some things that observers should learn:

  • If your boss tells you to help him with an illegal or unethical scheme, even if your boss is the President, don’t do it. Because if it gets exposed, you’re probably going to go down for it, even if the boss gets away with it.
  • In fact, don’t even go to work for an obviously immoral person in the first place.
  • The stuff that comes out of a person’s mouth is often an indicator of their actual character. That includes things that they say that you think can’t be taken literally since the face-value meaning is too obviously damning. If someone is saying things that, taken at face value, might seem to indicate approval for extremely immoral or illegal behavior, don’t assume that they are just kidding and therefore it doesn’t mean anything.
    • Example from another area: it should have come as no surprise to anyone that Louis CK turned out to be a perv. He was constantly telling jokes about being a perv.
    • It should have come as no surprise that Trump would abuse his office for personal gain, that he would show no loyalty to anything but himself, etc. He’s been completely up front all along about being an asshole. Most of us just couldn’t believe that that was all to be taken literally and at face value.
      • Ex.: expressing admiration for dictators Kim Jong Un and Vladimir Putin. We should not assume that that is just a stance taken for diplomatic purposes; we should take seriously the face-value meaning of it: that he really would like to be like those people.
      • Remember the interview in which the reporter says to Trump, “But Vladimir Putin is a killer.” Trump responds: “There are a lot of killers. What, you think our country is so innocent?” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8-VB-XkjKQ) The face value meaning of this is that Trump is unconcerned about murder, and he sees no important difference between the U.S. and Russia. (Note: I am not saying this is logically entailed by the statement. I am saying this is the natural implication that a normal person would draw, if the speaker doesn’t say anything to avert it.) Therefore, we should not be surprised if Trump turns out to have approved some murders or sold out to Russia.
      • Bragging that he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th Avenue and not lose any support. The face-value meaning of this: Trump thinks he can get away with anything, because his base will support anything he does. We should not be surprised that he acts accordingly.
    • Of course, people who profess high values often fail to live up to them. But people who profess very low values almost always live up to them.
  • If there is an individual who has made a life trying to get ahead by manipulating other people, and now that person is promising to help your group get ahead by manipulating other groups, you should assume that that person is trying to get ahead, right now, by manipulating you.

Don’t overlook the obvious.

Dumb Legal Philosophy Arguments #3

Issue

The third in my series of posts about extremely awful arguments in legal philosophy and law.

Aside: you may think it unkind of me to run a series of posts only for dumb legal philosophy arguments. I’m giving legal theorists a bad name! What about all the smart legal philosophy arguments out there? Well, there are some, but they are not much fun to ridicule, are they?

Anyway, these dumb arguments are really asserted by legal thinkers, including, e.g., judges who are defending extremely unjust legal outcomes. This then results in the government doing horrible things. So, the dumb arguments are fair game.

But let’s pick a different issue from the last two posts. Here is an issue: Should it be possible to sue a prosecutor for wrongfully prosecuting you, and to collect damages from that prosecutor?

Background: The Status Quo

In the U.S. legal status quo, it is not possible to do that. Mind you, it’s not just that a prosecutor is protected for honest mistakes. No, you cannot recover damages from the prosecutor no matter what. If a prosecutor sends an innocent man to prison for 20 years, even if the prosecutor knew the defendant was innocent, even if the prosecutor violated all sorts of legal rules in the course of the prosecution, even if he publicly announces at the end that he did it all just for the joy of watching the innocent suffer — still, the prosecutor will be absolutely protected, by American judges, from any liability whatsoever. If his victim files a lawsuit, the judge will summarily dismiss the suit, regardless of the evidence, and a jury will never be allowed to hear the case. Stuff like that has actually happened (except for the part about the prosecutor publicly confessing his evil; prosecutors virtually never admit fault, no matter how bad their behavior).

Michael Morton: A man who was wrongly imprisoned for 25 years because a prosecutor suppressed exculpatory evidence.

For one amazing case, see: https://www.innocenceproject.org/cases/michael-morton/. (Note: though the prosecutor in that case ultimately served 5 days in jail, it was not for his actual crime against the defendant. It was for “contempt of court”, for failing to obey a judge’s directions. Had the prosecutor been prosecuted for his actual crime, kidnapping, the prosecutor would instead have served 15-20 years.)

If you are a normal person with a sense of justice, you probably think this is outrageous. However, you might think that perhaps judges are just following the written law, and that the fault lies with the legislature. You might then be surprised to read the following from the United States Code, Title 42, section 1983:

Every person who, under color of any statute, ordinance, regulation, custom, or usage, of any State or Territory or the District of Columbia, subjects, or causes to be subjected, any citizen of the United States or other person within the jurisdiction thereof to the deprivation of any rights, privileges, or immunities secured by the Constitution and laws, shall be liable to the party injured in an action at law, suit in equity, or other proper proceeding for redress …

Legalese to English translation: if someone uses the law to violate your Constitutional rights, you can sue them.

The problem is, the U.S. Supreme Court has held — in an unanimous opinion — that the phrase “every person” in the above statute does not include prosecutors or judges. I’m not making this up: read Imbler v. Pachtman (1976).

Three Amazingly Convincing Arguments

What amazingly powerful arguments have convinced judges that judges and prosecutors should be immune from lawsuits for abusing their powers? You can read three of these arguments in Justice Lewis Powell’s opinion in Imbler v. Pachtman (423-9). My summary:

  1. If prosecutors were open to lawsuits, then fear of lawsuits might change how they perform their duties and interfere with their “fearless” pursuit of justice. (He repeats “fearless” several times.)
  2. Also, responding to lawsuits would take up too much of their time.
  3. Also, honest prosecutors might sometimes be held liable for understandable mistakes.

These are really the main reasons given by Powell, on behalf of the Supreme Court. There aren’t any other, much more sophisticated arguments in the wings. (Go ahead and look it up!)

Amazingly Convincing, or Mind-Bogglingly Awful?

You may have sensed by now that I did not find those arguments completely compelling. Unless you’re either a judge, a prosecutor, or a totalitarian, you probably didn’t find them at all convincing either. Nevertheless, in case there are some budding totalitarians reading this, I guess I’ll explain some of the problems.

Perhaps it’s easiest to see the ridiculousness of Powell’s reasoning if we take an analogy. Suppose a physician, Dr. Nick, tells us that physicians should enjoy absolute immunity from liability for medical malpractice: you shouldn’t be able to sue your doctor for anything he does as your doctor, no matter what — no matter how much he may have harmed you, no matter how negligent or even intentional the harm may have been, not even if the doctor deliberately performed illegal procedures on you against your will purely out of malice.

When asked what reasons would possibly justify this extreme position, the doctor responds:

  1. If doctors are open to lawsuits, then fear of lawsuits might change how they perform their doctorly duties and interfere with their fearless pursuit of patients’ health.
  2. Also, responding to lawsuits could take up too much of their time.
  3. Also, honest doctors might sometimes be held liable for understandable mistakes.

I think the above claims about doctors are about as plausible as the corresponding claims about prosecutors. But of course, none of these are remotely sufficient to defend physician immunity.

#1 fails because physicians cannot be assumed to always be diligently and competently pursuing nothing but patient health. Sometimes, they are negligent or incompetent; occasionally, they might even intentionally harm patients (though this is much rarer than for prosecutors). That’s why there would be an issue of lawsuits in the first place.

Now, the main thing that gets you sued is committing medical malpractice. So indeed, the threat of lawsuits prevents doctors from fearlessly engaging in medical malpractice. But that’s exactly what we want. Doctors should be afraid to commit malpractice.

Granted, sometimes there are unjustified suits. These can be costly in both time and money. (Indeed, medical malpractice lawsuits can be incredibly expensive.) And sometimes, the legal system will incorrectly find for a plaintiff when the physician actually did nothing wrong.

But even after taking those risks (which apply to all lawsuits) into account, no one concludes that courts should automatically dismiss all malpractice cases. Surely the best remedy for those problems is not a blanket rejection of all lawsuits, whether well-grounded or groundless, against doctors. Obviously, that would not be in the interests of patients or society; obviously, medical malpractice would balloon. The main beneficiaries of such a “physician immunity” rule would be the worst doctors.

All of this applies, pretty much exactly, to Powell’s arguments for prosecutorial immunity. We cannot assume that prosecutors are always diligently and competently pursuing nothing but justice, especially if there are no penalties for pursuing injustice. Sometimes, they will act negligently, incompetently, or even maliciously.

The main thing that would subject them to lawsuits would be actual misconduct. So liability to lawsuits would mainly interfere with the fearless exercise of prosecutorial misconduct. But that is exactly what we should want: they should be afraid of abusing their powers.

Now, just as with all lawsuits, if lawsuits against prosecutors were allowed, the plaintiff would have to prove culpability. You could not sue a prosecutor for an honest mistake. You would have to prove negligence or intentional wrongdoing. Notice that the courts consider this sufficient protection for all other people against being unfairly held liable for understandable errors. (What does it say about the courts that they don’t trust themselves to fairly adjudicate claims against their own employees?)

Granted, sometimes the courts would make mistakes, and lawsuits could be costly and time-consuming. But in no other case do we say the solution to that is to dismiss all suits against anyone in a given profession. If a doctor argued for physician immunity on such grounds, any judge would laugh him out of court.

The main effect of the absolute immunity doctrine is to promote abuse of power. Its main beneficiaries are the worst judges and prosecutors, those who commit reckless or intentional injustices. This is so incredibly obvious that it is hard to draw any conclusion but that Lewis Powell, along with all the other judges on the Supreme Court, just didn’t care about abuse of power.

Powell actually says that it’s okay because prosecutors could still be criminally prosecuted, even though they can’t be held civilly liable for abuses. He does not explain why this possibility does not interfere with “fearless prosecution” in the same way that lawsuits allegedly would. Of course, the answer is that it does not interfere with fearless prosecution because it virtually never happens, no matter how blatant and malicious a prosecutor’s crimes may be. The reason for this is also obvious: prosecutors do not turn on other prosecutors.

What if Dr. Nick expanded his argument for physician immunity by saying that there is no need to allow lawsuits against doctors, because it is theoretically possible for a doctor to be criminally prosecuted if his malpractice is bad enough? Better yet, we could just have a system in which doctors police each other. What if Dr. Nick said this even while aware that it was virtually unheard of for a doctor to accuse another doctor of malpractice, even in the most blatant and horrible of cases? No judge would take Dr. Nick seriously for a second.

Justice, at Last

One of the problems with the justice system, which explains all the Dumb Legal Philosophy arguments, is that too many people have forgotten the point of the system: Justice.

When a court entertains a case, they have one central duty: to do justice to the individuals in that case. That’s it. Their central duty isn’t to protect the powerful, to save money for the government, or to speculate implausibly about social policy goals. Their task is to do justice to those specific people, in that specific case.

When the Supreme Court heard the case of Imbler v. Pachtman, they disregarded the question of justice in that case. They asked what was best for the system. They should have asked: “Did the defendant in fact inflict on the plaintiff a harm deserving of compensation?”

The main argument for prosecutorial liability is simple: it’s a demand of justice. If someone wrongfully harms you, either intentionally or through serious negligence, it is just for that person to compensate you. That is true whether the person works for the state or not.

Now, I’m not a deontological absolutist. I think there could be some cases in which a demand of justice is outweighed. But that should only be in very rare cases; in the normal case, we should follow justice. We should not be disregarding its demands whenever the interests of the powerful are threatened and we can think of some vague speculation about how doing justice might lead to negative consequences for society.

Lady justice is blindfolded because justice does not care who you are, what group you belong to, or whether you be aligned with the meek or the powerful. It does not allow special pleading because you happen to be well-connected or work for the organization making the judgments. This is really one of the most basic and self-evident principles about justice. The fact that the Imbler decision was 8-0 suggests that the U.S. Supreme Court does not understand the first thing about justice.

NAPs Are for Babies

Baby humans need frequent naps. Also, baby libertarians need NAPs (Non-Aggression Principles). In libertarian lore, the Non-Aggression Principle says something like this:

NAP: It is always wrong to initiate force against other people.

Variations on that are known as NAPs. NAPs are good for baby libertarians, because they help bring some statists into libertarianism, once you see that almost all government policies initiate force against people.

But it’s really only baby libertarians who need NAPs, because NAP is an oversimplified and blunt instrument. As written above, it is obviously false. One can qualify it to make it not obviously false, but once one adds enough qualifications, it can’t (plausibly) be used anymore to construct the sort of simple deductive proofs that baby libertarians desire.

Of course, one can still appeal to NAp, the Non-Aggression presumption, which merely requires that one have a good moral reason for initiating coercion against others.

Now, since some of my audience are libertarians, and some of those are probably toddler libertarians who are ready to do less NAPing, let me say more to help them get beyond their NAPs.

Qualified NAPs

Actually, there is a simpler moral theory to which NAP represents a qualified version. So let’s start with the simplest view in the neighborhood:

NAP0 (a.k.a. “pacifism”): It is always wrong to use force against others.

That’s obviously false, and almost no one (including libertarians) believes it, because there are cases of justified self-defense and defense of innocent third parties involving use of force. So we make our first qualification, resulting in:

NAP1: It is wrong to use force against others, unless doing so is necessary to stop someone else from using force against others.

But in fact, almost no one, not even libertarians, believes NAP1 either. It too is obviously false. There are many examples showing this.

Example 1: I promise to mow Ayn Rand’s lawn in exchange for her grading some of my papers. Rand grades the papers, with copious helpful comments (pointing out where students are evading reality, hating the good for being the good, etc.), but then I don’t mow the lawn. I also refuse to do anything to make amends for my failure. Haha.

Almost everyone, including libertarians, thinks that the state can force me to mow the lawn or otherwise make amends (e.g., pay the money value of a mowed lawn).

Example 2: I start deliberately spreading false rumors that Walter Block is a Nazi. This causes him to be ostracized, lose his job, and be blacklisted by the SJW culture that is academia.

Almost everyone, including most libertarians, agrees that Walter should be able to sue me for defamation in court, and collect damages, coercively enforced, of course.

Example 3: Hans-Hermann Hoppe owns a large plot of land around his house. One day, when he emerges from his house to collect his copy of Reason, he sees me sleeping peacefully in a corner of his lawn. Though I haven’t hurt anyone and (being very thin and meek) pose no physical threat to anyone, Hans is nevertheless irritated, and demands that I get off his lawn. I just plug my ears and go back to sleep.

Almost everyone (especially Hans) thinks that Hans can use force to expel me from his lawn.

Example 4: I have become seriously injured by a hit-and-run driver, and I need to be taken to the hospital immediately. The only available car is Murray Rothbard’s car, but Murray is not around to give permission. (I am also not sure he would authorize saving me.)

Almost everyone thinks it is permissible for me to break into Murray’s car (thus initiating force against his property?) to get to the hospital.

Example 5: Powerful space aliens are going to bomb the Earth, killing 3 billion people, unless you deliver to them one recently-plucked hair from the head of Harry Binswanger. Harry, unfortunately, cannot be persuaded to part with the hair for any amount of money. (He really wants to live up to his name, you see.)

Almost everyone thinks it is permissible to forcibly steal the hair.

Of course, all of these examples are easily accommodated: we just have to add appropriate qualifications and clarifications to our NAP. Once we add the needed qualifications, we arrive at:

NAP6: It is wrong to use force against others, unless:
(i) Doing so is necessary to stop them from using force against others (unless: (a) their force was itself justified by one of the conditions listed herein, in which case it is still wrong to use force against them), or
(ii) It is necessary to enforce a contract, or
(iii) It is necessary to force someone to pay compensation for defamation, or
(iv) It is necessary to stop someone from using someone’s property without the property owner’s consent (unless: (b) the use of the property is necessary, in an emergency situation, to prevent something much worse from happening, in which case it is still wrong to use force against that person), or
(v) It is necessary to prevent some vastly greater harm from occurring.

We’ve added five main qualifications ((i)-(v)) and two meta-qualifications ((a) and (b)). Is NAP6 true at last? Well, it’s hard to say whether we’ve included all needed qualifications and sub-qualifications. At least this latest NAP is no longer obviously false. But it’s so complex that it’s hard to claim that it’s obviously true either, and it’s really unclear why someone else cannot propose another qualification, say, “… or (vi) it is necessary to stop the poor from going without health care.”

Libertarians will disagree with qualification (vi), but they don’t have a good reason to resist it, if their libertarianism just rests on a NAP. We added (i)-(v) and (a) and (b) in order to accommodate our ethical intuitions (as rationality demands), but then why can’t a leftist add (vi) to accommodate their intuitions?

In other words, NAP6 might be true, but you don’t establish anything interesting by appealing to it, since someone with different starting intuitions can just as reasonably modify NAP6 to fit those intuitions.

Time for Desperate Rationalizations?

Now, I am aware that some toddler libertarians are going to claim that the NAP isn’t really so complicated, because (they will claim) one or more of the qualifications I have included in NAP6 are really redundant or wrong. For example, maybe some doctrinaire libby will say that (iii) should be deleted because defamation is actually okay.

Another unreasonable person will claim that (v) is wrong because actually we should just let the aliens do their worst.

Another desperate person will try to claim that (ii) and (iv) aren’t needed because contract breaches and sleeping on someone’s lawn are “really” a form of force, and thus we won’t really be “initiating force” in examples 1 and 3.

I don’t want to spend time debating those sorts of claims, because I find it silly and tedious. Therefore, I am simply going to report my own reaction before moving on, which is that

  1. Those moves are silly on their face. You wouldn’t think of any of those things if you were just trying to faithfully describe reality. You’d only think of them if you’re trying to cling to the initial verbal formulation of an ideological position.
  2. If you’re going to do things like that — like expanding the concept of “force”, or making radically implausible normative assertions — then that’s really no better than statists who do similar things, such as claiming that poverty is a form of coercion, claiming that there’s nothing prima facie wrong with theft, etc.

Liberty without NAPs

You know what I’m going to say next, so I’ll just say it quickly so we can all go home. We don’t need some sweeping, absolutist moral theory. The rational way of evaluating possible government policies is to (i) start by noting the prima facie moral reasons against them, (ii) examine the reasons for the policies, according to those who support them, then (iii) apply moral common sense to judge whether the latter reasons are good enough to justify the bad or wrong-making aspects of government policies.

E.g., it’s usually wrong to take people’s money without their consent. Q: is it a good enough reason for doing so that one can help the poor by giving the money to them? Think about how we’d react if I decided to go out and mug people, then send the money off to UNICEF. This wouldn’t go over very well in most circles. So no, not a good enough reason.

Rationalism Is for Robots

If you’re trying to “prove” a political conclusion by deriving it from some axioms, then you may have succumbed to an intellectual disorder sometimes called “rationalism”. (The disorder that, e.g., Spinoza famously suffered from.) This disorder causes you to think that the way people find out stuff about the world is by sitting in an armchair, pronouncing the first sweeping, simplistic generalization that occurs to them that sort of seems vaguely plausible for the first ten seconds that you think about it, robotically deducing consequences from that, and then dogmatically embracing every absurd consequence that comes out of it.

That isn’t a way to understand the actual world. That almost never works. And by the way, I’m not deducing that it doesn’t work from an axiom; I’m saying that in practice, in actual cases that we observe, that approach almost never goes well. Virtually 100% of the time, the sweeping generalization that seems plausible to you at first glance is wrong. (That happens because reality is actually complex. Orders of magnitude more complex than a typical human’s typical thoughts. I found that out by having many years of experience with reality.)

The rationalist approach is a way to go spectacularly wrong and wind up saying all sorts of ridiculous things. (Examples: almost every philosopher in history.) It’s also, secondarily, a way of convincing other people that you’re crazy. Normal people then tend to just ignore your insane “proof”s.

Dumb Legal Philosophy Arguments #2

The second part in my series on bad arguments in legal philosophy. Background: the issue is whether judges and juries should make their decisions based on what is just, or instead make decisions based only on what the law says.

Dumb Legal Philosophy Argument #2 (DA2) says:

People should not decide based on justice, because people have all sorts of ideas about justice! White supremacists might think that racially motivated hate crimes are acceptable, and therefore that it is just to acquit hate criminals. Would it therefore be okay for a racist jury to acquit a hate criminal? Of course not! Therefore, people should make decisions based on the law, rather than justice.

What is wrong with this reasoning?

The Basic Confusion

Most basically, the argument confuses “justice” with “whatever anyone happens to think (possibly irrationally) is just”. Hence, it confuses the view that juries and judges should make decisions based upon what is just with the view that juries and judges should make decisions based on whatever they happen to believe (possibly irrationally) is just.

Compare the following objection to upholding the law:

Suppose that Crazy Jack thinks that upholding the law requires murdering 10 innocent people. Would it therefore be okay for Crazy Jack to murder 10 innocent people? Of course not! Therefore, people should follow justice, not whatever they happen to think the law requires. Therefore, people should make decisions based on justice, rather than the law.

This is parallel to DA2, except that “the law” and “justice” have been switched, and instead of using an example of someone with crazy beliefs about justice, we use an example of someone with crazy beliefs about the law. If you wouldn’t accept the above argument for ignoring the law, you shouldn’t accept the argument for ignoring justice either.

But How Do We Know?

You might object to the rule, “Pursue what is really just (not whatever you happen to believe is just),” since a person cannot tell the difference between what is just and what they believe to be just. A person cannot reasonably be told that, in the event that they have a false belief about justice, they should simply follow the objectively correct view of justice. Therefore, you might think, the only reasonable advice that we could give would be to follow what one takes to be just.

Two points to make about this: First, the question of what advice we should, from a practical standpoint, give to ordinary people, is different from the question of what in fact people ought to do. It may be true that people ought to do X, even if telling them that would not be practically helpful (perhaps because they are unable to identify X, or for whatever other reason).

Second, in any case, when it comes to offering useful advice, of course we can say much more than “pursue what you take to be just.” For one thing, anyone who believes in some sort of right of conscience is also going to say, at a minimum, that individuals have an obligation to think seriously and rationally about what morality/justice requires, before acting on their beliefs – no one thinks that it is morally proper to follow utterly capricious moral beliefs. So one could certainly give advice about how to learn about relevant issues, and how to think critically about them.

For another thing, one can give useful guidance about the substantive principles of justice. For instance, that it is unjust to violate individuals’ rights, and that individuals generally have a right against harmful coercion. One could describe some of the conditions under which that right is outweighed or undercut (self-defense, etc.). It’s not as though no one knows anything about justice, so that nothing useful could be said.

Filling in the Argument

Maybe I’ve misunderstood how the example of the racist jury is supposed to work. I don’t know, but somehow that sort of example is supposed to show that even non-racist juries should never nullify the law – for example, that you shouldn’t vote to acquit a drug criminal on the grounds that the drug laws are unjust. So, question: In this argument –

P1.  It would be wrong for the racist jury to acquit the hate criminal based on their belief that hate crimes are permissible.

C.    Therefore, it would also be wrong for a jury to acquit a drug user based on the belief that drug prohibition is unjust.

– what premise do we have to add in order to make the argument seem cogent? What background assumption is the advocate of that argument making? It looks to me like you have to assume something like P2, P3, or P4:

P2.  Drug prohibition is unjust only if hate crimes are permissible.

P3.  The belief that hate crimes are permissible is equally reasonable, or equally likely to be true, as the belief that drug prohibition is unjust.

P4.  If the racist jury isn’t justified in their belief, then no one is justified in any moral belief.

But all of those (and all similar assumptions) are absurd. The case against the drug laws is obviously much, much stronger than the “case” for permitting hate crimes (I use scare quotes because there in fact is no such case). So it is very unclear how the wrongness of letting hate criminals go free is supposed to be evidence that it is wrong to let drug users go free.

An Analogy

Immanuel Kant held the extreme view that lying is always wrong. So if the Nazis show up at your door, asking if you know where any Jews are hiding, and if you happen to have some Jews hiding in your attic, it would be impermissible, in his view, to tell the Nazis that you do not know of any such Jews. That would be (*shudder*) a lie.

Almost everyone thinks this position is crazy. That’s because it is crazy. Obviously, lying is sometimes permissible. (Indeed, we tell lies for much less momentous reasons all the time, and many of them are okay.)

Now, if we try to reason about lying, in a way parallel to DA2, we would say something like this:

People have all sorts of crazy ideas about morality. A con artist might think it morally justified to lie in order to defraud people of their money. But surely that isn’t justified. Therefore, we should choose our statements based solely on the truth, not what we think is morally justified. I.e., we should never lie.

That is not correct. The fact that some people would lie for bad reasons does not prove that lying is always wrong.

Similarly, then, the fact that some juries would nullify for bad reasons does not prove that jury nullification is always wrong.

World’s Longest Running Scam: The Academy

The first Academy

Sometimes, I feel as though my profession is a giant scam. I don’t mean that we’re not doing anything of value. I mean that what people think we’re doing, which explains why they pay us so much, is not what we’re actually doing. And when I reflect on that, sometimes, I wonder how long it will take for the world to catch on, and then stop giving us tons of money, at which point most of us will have to find real jobs. That might be good for society, but I hope it doesn’t happen before I’ve retired.

What they think we’re doing

I gather that what most people think the academy is doing is mainly

(i) teaching students valuable skills and information that they need in order to get by in life, to do their jobs, and/or to be good citizens; plus, to a lesser extent,

(ii) doing research that produces new knowledge of value to society.

This sounds pretty good. And this impression is supported by academics and other intellectuals. Since society’s intellectuals generally like the academy, we use our intellectual skills to come up with clever, smart-sounding propaganda about how awesome education is. Like this slogan: “Think education is expensive? Try ignorance.” This causes most of society to think that education must be really great, since the experts all seem to think so.

*Exceptions: Jason Brennan’s Cracks in the Ivory Tower; Bryan Caplan’s The Case Against Education. These academics bite the hand that feeds them.

We generally decide to overlook evidence against our preferred narrative. Since the only people likely to be able to marshal that evidence are other academics, who share the same bias, we’re usually safe.

Aside: Here’s something we like to do in philosophy: we cite statistics about the earnings of philosophy majors, post-graduation — which turn out to be pretty good, compared to most majors. We then either state, or leave it as implied, that philosophy improves your earnings potential. Ironically, philosophy should teach you to be critical of that sort of reasoning. (Ever hear about a little distinction between “treatment effects” and “selection effects”? I guess maybe that’s more of a sciencey topic, so philosophers wouldn’t get it.)

Costs are out of control

Anyway, I think the above (functions (i) and (ii)) explain part of why society funnels so much money to academia.

Students and their parents pay a lot of money, of course, because they think, correctly, that a college degree increases your earnings potential. They also incorrectly think this works by college teaching you important skills.

Even more clearly, the government funnels money to higher education, with the support of the public, because they believe the academy is doing lots of (i) and (ii). When they finally figure out that that’s not true, what will happen to the academy?

What we’re actually doing

Here’s what we’re really doing.

a. Administering a really long, really expensive IQ and personality test. The people who graduate from a “good” school thereby display their intelligence, perseverence, and willingness to follow tedious instructions from others without complaint — all valuable traits in the workplace. For the most part, we don’t give people these traits; we simply screen out people who lack them.

b. Producing prestige. Harvard doesn’t do a better job of teaching people than other schools; it just has more prestige. That’s why people are willing to pay them more than other schools. The economic function of academic research is to produce prestige for the researcher’s school — that is “the economic function” in the sense that that explains why there is money available to pay for it.

c. Indoctrinating students. Many academics are utterly shameless about injecting their personal ideology anywhere they can. Many of these, by the way, would also insist, with no sense of irony, that they support critical thinking, openness to competing points of view, etc. It’s just that such openness of course only applies to legitimate, serious ideas — and they simply can’t perceive anything that challenges the main points of their ideology as a legitimate, serious idea.

An irrational person

d. Attacking rationality. Some academics (I don’t know how many — presumably not many among philosophers, but the postmodernists) actively attempt to undermine rational thought. They will do such things as attacking rationality, attacking objectivity, and simply modeling non-rational discourse. This is the opposite of education.

e. Playing intellectual games with each other. This is most of what our research is. It’s not literally a game, but a game is the best metaphor: a mostly harmless diversion, whose main purpose is to entertain those participating. Like a bunch of eggheads sitting around playing a giant, collective chess game (only there is no defined endpoint). The people who are good at it attract attention and admiration from the other players. The most exciting players make surprising moves that turn out to be defensible — you know, like a dramatic queen sacrifice. And that’s how they build up the currency of the academic world, prestige. If you accumulate enough of it, other teams may try to hire you, with a big salary bonus.

Most of the research is written solely for the other researchers and will never be read by and never make any difference to anyone else. (In fact, most will barely be read even by other researchers.) If you tried to describe it to someone outside the game, even someone with lots of intellectual interests, they would generally find it pointless. Like, someone taking a year off of teaching so he can study the attitudes of 16th-century Spaniards toward plants on the Iberian Peninsula.

Now, of course there is much research that is really interesting and important. E.g., some people are trying to cure cancer, or . . . reveal the injustices in the American legal system. But I think that is a small minority of all research.

When will this house of cards collapse?

This is a great scam we’ve managed to pull on the rest of society, but I don’t know how long we can keep it up. Surely the secret is going to get out, and the country is going to stop pouring money into our industry? On the other hand, it’s been going on for a long time, so maybe it’s stable for the next few centuries?

(Aside: Here is a story about how small colleges are closing down, and maybe 1/4 will close in the next 20 years: https://www.cbsnews.com/video/expert-predicts-25-of-colleges-will-fail-in-the-next-20-years/
I can’t vouch for the story, though; it may just be typical media alarmism.)

I guess people think that they have to pay me a bunch of money because I have arcane knowledge that I am only willing to impart if they give me a bunch of money and job security and lots of time to sit around reading and writing. I’m just waiting for society to figure out that I don’t have any such knowledge or skills. Everything I know that I might teach in a class is publicly available knowledge. All or most of it you can get for free if you have an internet connection or a library card.

I guess maybe there is a little educational bonus from being able to talk to me in person … but in truth, very few students ever actually avail themselves of that opportunity. They don’t actually want the benefit that’s costing them all this extra money.

Now, of course we know why students are attending college rather than just learning on the internet. They want the prestige, not the knowledge. They want to signal intelligence, perseverence, and conformity. So perhaps I have no cause for concern. It doesn’t matter that I don’t actually have any secret knowledge.

But I still worry that some tech entrepreneur is going to figure out how to produce the same product (once they recognize what the product actually is) at much lower cost — like, orders of magnitude lower. Maybe there will be a lengthy course of study you can complete, doing work that is entirely computer graded so that no professors have to be hired, and the company will just certify that you completed it with some level of intellectual performance. I don’t understand why something like this hasn’t replaced almost all college education.

Inviting the collapse

I don’t know whether or when universities will go the way of newspapers. But if it is going to happen, I think it will be helped along by practices (c) and (d) above, indoctrination and attacking rationality. I suspect that we’re shooting ourselves in the foot with this.

https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/essay/the-growing-partisan-divide-in-views-of-higher-education/

I don’t think the indoctrination works very well. I think most students just learn what the professor wants to hear, then forget it as soon as the class is over. But I think it does succeed in pissing off the segment of society that disagrees with the ideology. Which, as a matter of fact, is at least half the country. When we lament the anti-intellectual trend in conservatism, we should look at the way intellectuals have been dismissing conservative ideas and shamelessly propagandizing for left-wing ideology. Of course conservatives would become anti-intellectual. How long will it be before Republicans introduce legislation to shut down government support for education?

A fraud who succeeded for a while by being an irrational ideologue

I suspect that (c) and (d) are also undermining the prestige-generating power of the academy. Because they create the impression that one can succeed academically simply by toeing an ideological line – and one can fail simply by refusing to do so. And that is not what employers are trying to select for. They’re looking for smart, hard-working, persistent people – not mere ideologues. If academics go too far, we’re going to undermine the economic value of college degrees – at which point, we’re through.

Now, those who know me know that I have no problem with advocacy teaching. What I have a problem with is unfair or unreasonable advocacy. I think it’s fine to say, “I think this conservative (/liberal) idea is mistaken. Let me tell you why …” followed by some logical arguments and evidence. But that should be after you have presented the idea as faithfully as possible, explaining fairly what its proponents would say in its favor. This will normally involve reading texts that advance that idea clearly and strongly. The professor should then try to model careful, reasoned discourse on the topic, weighing the reasons on both sides.

Obviously, it is unacceptable to attempt to intimidate or punish people for believing a controversial idea. Finally, it is of course inappropriate to inject ideological points into a class to which they are not relevant. For instance, a professor should not inject his opinions about the current President, unless the class topic somehow really calls for discussion of that.

It would be great if professors were to acquire a reputation for being fairminded, objective reasoners, people who try to understand your point of view before helping you improve your own understanding. Maybe this would cause the rest of society to keep us around a little longer. Unfortunately, that is far from the way we are actually seen.

Dumb Legal Philosophy Arguments #1

Since I’ve been reading about the legal system, I think I’ll start a series of posts on Dumb Arguments in Legal Philosophy. These are arguments that are extremely bad, but that are seriously advanced by real people in defense of aspects of the status quo and/or conventional legal ethics. Before I give you the first of these awful arguments, some background:

Background: I hold that agents in the legal system have a primary duty to do justice. Thus, (i) jury members should decide to acquit or convict based on which decision is more just; (ii) judges should interpret (or misinterpret) the law according to what justice demands; and (iii) lawyers should decline to pursue legal outcomes that are unjust. Conventional legal theory disagrees with me on these points; the conventional view is that juries and judges should just enforce the law, and lawyers should just pursue their clients’ interests.

Now, here is Dumb Argument #1:

People in the legal system should not attempt to pursue justice, because they don’t know what is really just or unjust. For example, juries don’t know what is objectively just; therefore, they should just apply the law as explained to them by the judge. Judges don’t know what is really just, so they should just interpret and apply the law as written by the legislature. And lawyers don’t know whether their clients are guilty, or in general what justice requires in a given case, so they should just pursue the interests of their clients.

The famous conservative judge Robert Bork invoked something like this (plus some other terrible arguments) in his essay “Thomas More for Our Season” (https://www.firstthings.com/article/1999/06/thomas-more-for-our-season). In it, he approvingly quotes the character of Thomas More in the play A Man for all Seasons:

“I know what’s legal, not what’s right. And I’ll stick with what’s legal. … I’m not God.”

I assume most of my readers would not be tempted by this sort of argument. But maybe you’d like an explicit statement of the reasons why this argument is so incredibly bad. So:

Problem #1: Pursuing goals does not require certainty.

Say I value wealth. I can rationally pursue it by investing in the stock market, even though I don’t know that this will get me more wealth. I only need some reasonable opinions about what things are more and less likely to get me money.

Similarly, I do not need to know for certain what justice requires in all cases, or even in any cases, to rationally pursue justice. I only need to have some reasonable opinions about what things are more and less likely to be just.

Problem #2: I know some things that are unjust.

Real case: In 2007, Anthony Crutcher was arrested in Mississippi for selling $40 worth of cocaine to a police informant. In view of his two prior drug convictions, Crutcher was sentenced to 60 years in prison. Was this a just sentence?

We are not in the dark about that. I know the answer: No, that was not a just sentence. Any normal person would know this, and there is no serious case against this, unless one is a metaethical nihilist, skeptic, or something like that.

Granted, there may be other cases in which one really does not know what is just. But as long as there are some cases in which we know that a legally prescribed outcome is unjust, then there is scope for jury nullification (and judicial nullification, and prosecutorial discretion) – i.e., in those cases, these agents should decline to enforce the unjust outcome.

Problem #3: Skepticism proves too much.

This is where laws come from.

In the Man for All Seasons quotation, Thomas More insists that he is not God. But note that the people who made the laws are not gods either. They are politicians, which is something rather far from a god, as a matter of fact. If jurors and judges don’t know what is morally right or just, then there is no reason why politicians would know either, so there is no obvious reason for following the law or punishing people who break it.

Also, if you don’t know in general what is just or moral, then you don’t know whether following the law is just or moral. If you don’t even have reasonable beliefs about what is more and less likely to be just, then you must not even have a reasonable belief that enforcing the law is likely to be just. So, again, there would be no reason to enforce the law.

Merely knowing what things have feature F does not give you a reason for favoring actions that have F – not unless you have reason to think that F is good, or right, or something like that.

Problem #4: The law can be uncertain.

Sometimes, we also don’t know what is legal or illegal. Sometimes the law is vague, ambiguous, incomplete, or even inconsistent. Even judges may be uncertain as to what the law requires. But notice that no one says, even in these cases, that this means that agents should not even attempt to uphold the law. No one claims, e.g., that if the judge doesn’t know what the law requires, then he should forget about trying to uphold the law and just pick some other goal, like convenience or self-interest, to pursue.

Similarly, sometimes a jury does not know whether a defendant violated the law. Often, they also do not know whether the evidence constitutes proof beyond a reasonable doubt or not. Yet again, no one claims that if that happens, the jury should forget about applying the law, or forget about applying the reasonable-doubt standard, and pick some other goal that they have better knowledge about.

Problem #5: The law refers to morality.

Often, the law, especially the U.S. Constitution, directly invokes morality. E.g., the Constitution prohibits the taking of private property “without just compensation” (emphasis added); it prohibits “unreasonable searches and seizures”; and the Ninth Amendment famously tries to protect people’s unenumerated rights. It does not, in any of these cases, contain any further, descriptive guidance; it doesn’t say what is just, what is reasonable, or what the unenumerated rights are.

Therefore, in order to faithfully apply the law, at least in many important cases, one is required to rely upon moral judgments. Furthermore, since the Constitution is the supreme law of the land, which constrains what statutes are legally valid, one must often deploy moral judgments in order to evaluate statutory questions.

So the skeptical argument (“we don’t know what morality requires…”) also cuts against the very position that the argument’s proponents want to defend (that agents in the justice system should always faithfully uphold the law).

Now you may be wondering: “Are all arguments against jury nullification this bad?” We shall see. I’ll have another one next time.

Google Is Evil

When Google was a child, its young founders embraced a simple code of conduct: Don’t Be Evil. By 2015, when Google became a subsidiary of Alphabet, Inc, the company was already changing. It had become by far the biggest search engine in the world. But more importantly, it had begun to undergo a political transformation that reflected “The Great Awokening” of its young, Ivy League educated workforce. It began to embrace Social Justice.

Not long after its acquisition by Alphabet, CEO Sundar Pichai was pressured by its workforce to sack an employee, James Damore, for saying – on an internal discussion board, after Google solicited feedback – that the Y chromosome probably influences the different occupational choices of men and women. Around the same time, psychologist Robert Epstein began documenting the many ways in which Google could swing elections by altering its search algorithms. More recently, many people have noticed that politically controversial YouTube videos have been de-monetized, de-ranked, or deleted. YouTube is, of course, owned by Google.

Earlier this summer a Google defector gave an interview with Project Veritas, outlining the ways in which Google silences non-progressive employees and uses its search engines to boost “authoritative” sources (not surprisingly, authoritative mostly means progressive). In a remarkable video at Veritas, an executive at Google admits to intentionally manipulating search results for political ends. She even scolds Senator Elizabeth Warren for failing to understand that if Google is broken up, it will be more difficult to control the flow of information in directions that favor progressive political causes. Not surprisingly, the video was immediately deleted from YouTube.

Thoughtful people are beginning to understand that American universities have become secular cathedrals whose main goal, as Jonathan Haidt explains, is to promote social justice rather than truth. But many people fail to understand the downstream effects of this indoctrination on political culture in particular, and our epistemic environment more generally. Employees in the tech companies from which we get our information are mostly young graduates from elite universities whose faculty and staff share a very specific worldview. So it is natural that when they graduate, they try to change the companies they work for to match this worldview. When it is a private company like Gillette, the propaganda they create is merely annoying.

But Google, Twitter, and Facebook are not ordinary private companies. Calls to regulate or re-classify them are not like calls for Gillette to stop lecturing men about how awful we are, or for Coors to make better beer at lower prices. Social media companies and search engines are given a special legal status – they are regulated as platforms rather than publishers – which shields them from certain kinds of lawsuits, but also requires them to refrain from taking sides on politically controversial issues. I don’t have a well-developed view of whether law should divide companies that manage information into platforms or publishers. But it is obvious that our thoughts are heavily influenced by the information we get from internet searches and the arguments we encounter on social media platforms.

Anyone who has taught a university class knows that students tend to cite articles that appear on the first page of Google more than articles that appear later. And like it or not, many people believe that results which appear at the top of the page are more credible than those that come later. But they are wrong.

Google has become a political machine – a publisher that curates content and promotes a carefully crafted worldview through its algorithms, its search rankings, and its decisions to delete user accounts for challenging the dogmas of social justice. Google and YouTube, Twitter and Facebook have vastly more power than any one newspaper or cable news outlet ever enjoyed. While a reasonable argument can be given that Google should be regulated as a natural monopoly, a stronger argument is that Google should be reclassified as a publisher rather than a platform. It should have its special legal protections stripped and its manipulation exposed. If you’re a fan of free markets, you should at least support the rights of the individuals who make voluntary transactions with tech companies to sue them if they publish libelous material or attempt to influence elections by deliberately designing algorithms to shield voters from accessing useful information.

One way to do this is to legally classify them as the publishers they are.

Who Cares About Simplicity?

I think appeals to “simplicity” and “Occam’s Razor” are a kind of baby epistemology – maybe a heuristic that has some value for philosophical novices, but a simplification that experts should have gotten past. What matters is the probability of a theory, not “simplicity” per se – but simplicity might have some correlation with probability.

The Amazing Razor

Occam’s Razor tells us something like:

Occam’s Razor: Other things being equal, simpler theories should be preferred over more complex theories.

But why would that be? If you think about it for five seconds, questions like this will probably occur to you: “Why assume the world is simple? Does Occam’s Razor depend on some principle like

For every possible pair of views about a given question, if one view is simpler than the other, the world is a priori more likely to match the simpler view.

?” If so, wow. That’s a pretty sweeping, powerful principle. So, e.g., purely a priori, the probability that the mind is identical to the brain is greater than the probability that the mind is distinct from the brain? Is that what the physicalists who appeal to the “simplicity” of physicalism are saying? Would it also be true that, purely a priori, the probability that cats are planets is greater than the probability that cats are distinct from planets?

There had better be some story about why that’s true. It’d be really interesting to hear what it is, wouldn’t it?

But you’re going to have difficulty finding that story, because the people who go around appealing to Occam’s Razor – using it as a cudgel against theists, dualists, Platonists, free-will believers, moral realists, etc. – rarely have any idea.

Two Cases

Let’s try to understand it. There are certain contexts in which it’s going to be pretty uncontroversial that the simpler theory is more likely correct. Like this:

Case 1: You’re sitting in your apartment, using your only two electrical devices: a desktop computer and a lamp. Both of them suddenly shut off at the same time. You consider two theories, a simple one (S) and a complex one (C):

S: There is a power failure occurring now.

C: The light bulb burned out, and the computer crashed.

Epistemology problem: Comparatively evaluate these, without collecting further evidence.

Answer: S is simpler than C, since S posits a single cause for both pieces of evidence, while C posits two separate causes. S is also more likely to be correct than C, for fairly obvious reasons connected to its simplicity. It’s fairly natural to say that, ceteris paribus, the occurrence of two failures (as in C) is less likely than the occurrence of one failure (as in S).

But is this always true? Definitely not. We can have a case that is very similar to the above, except that the probabilities work out differently.

Case 2: You go away on a sabbatical in Europe for a year. When you leave, for some reason, you leave your only two electrical devices on at home: a desktop computer and a lamp. You return a year later and, as you enter your house, see that both of them are now off. You consider two hypotheses:

S: There is a power failure occurring now.

C: The light bulb burned out, and the computer crashed.

Problem: Comparatively evaluate these, without collecting further evidence.

Answer: Again, S is simpler than C, for exactly the same reason as stated above: it cites a single cause for both data, whereas C cites two separate causes. Nevertheless, this time, C is more likely than S. (If you’re not sure of this, make the time period longer, e.g., ten years.)

Both S and C explain all the data, and I’d be inclined to say they “explain it equally well” – unless, of course, the “goodness” of an explanation just depends on the overall probability of the theory being correct – in which case, we can’t appeal to the quality of explanations in judging which theory to prefer, since that would beg the question. So leaving aside the overall probabilistic assessment of the two theories, it would seem that in this case, S explains the data in Case 2 exactly as well as it did in Case 1; also, C explains the data exactly as well in Case 2 as it did in Case 1. So we should be able to apply Occam’s Razor now and conclude that we should prefer S over C. Right?

But that’s silly; no one would do that.

Replies in Defense of the Razor

Of course there are ways of preserving Occam’s Razor from this otherwise obvious counterexample. Philosophers can pretty much always modify a principle’s interpretation to preserve it from counterexamples.

Outweighed Value

Here’s a first thought. Maybe simplicity has some epistemic value as a virtue of theories, but in Case 2 that value is outweighed, whereas it is not outweighed in Case 1. What would be outweighing the value of simplicity in Case 2? I guess it would be the probabilistic considerations.

How would we distinguish this view from the view that simplicity is just epistemically irrelevant, since sometimes the simpler theory is better, and sometimes it’s worse? Or maybe even complexity is a virtue, but its value is outweighed in Case 1 (by probabilistic considerations) but not in Case 2?

I guess the view would have to be that, once you note that S is simpler than C, you give S an extra little probability boost, or you subtract a little from the probability of C. E.g., you first calculate the joint probability of a light-bulb burnout and a computer crash over the course of a year, then subtract a little bit from that probability, as a sort of “complexity penalty”, before assigning your credence to C.

But that, I take it, is again silly. Of course you don’t do that. You just estimate the probabilities normally – using the conjunction rule, your knowledge of base rates, etc. Once you’ve done that, you’re done; you don’t have to do anything using the notion of “simplicity”.

The Ceteris Paribus Clause

Maybe Occam’s Razor is saved by the “other things being equal” clause. Maybe you can say that other things aren’t equal in Case 2, because in Case 2 (but not in Case 1), there is some other theoretical virtue that differs between the two theories, and that means Occam’s Razor just doesn’t apply to Case 2.

Okay, but what would this other theoretical virtue be? Both theories seem to account for all the data. If true, each predicts the data with equal certainty. Both are equally “conservative” (consistent with the rest of our worldview). Really, there’s only one thing I can see that’s better about theory C: it’s more likely to be true, given your background opinions about the frequency of power failures, light bulb burnouts, and computer crashes.

Suppose we say that: The epistemic virtue of simplicity only comes into play when “other things are equal”, and other things are only equal when the two theories are equally likely to be true. But then what happens – the two theories are equally likely to be true, but somehow, according to Occam’s Razor, you should prefer to believe the simpler one? That’s bizarre. Shouldn’t you attach equal credence to both, since they’re equally likely?

Okay, try again. Maybe we say: simplicity comes into play only when it isn’t the case that the complex theory is equally likely or more likely to be true. Only then do we say the simpler theory is to be preferred. Sure. But that’s trivial: If the more complex theory is not equally or more likely to be true, then the simpler theory is more likely to be true! But it’s also true that if the simpler theory is not equally or more likely to be true, then the more complex theory is more likely. So you could just as well enunciate the following principle:

Plato’s Rogaine: Other things being equal, more complex theories should be preferred over simpler ones.

(The term “Plato’s Beard” has already been taken for another idea.) Sounds silly, but that would be true, given the same sort of interpretive liberties as we’re using to defend Occam’s Razor. When someone brings up Case 1 as a counterexample to Plato’s Rogaine, we just say that other things aren’t equal in Case 1, because there, the simpler theory is more likely.

Conclusion

The important point is that Occam’s Razor is not a useful principle in these cases (and aren’t these precisely the sort of cases in which you’d expect the Razor to be useful?). You can do some interpretive maneuvering that lets you say it’s true, but the principle won’t actually help us evaluate theories. We first have to figure out how likely we think each theory is, and arrange our credences accordingly; then, if we like, we can decide which theory, if any, counts as having “the epistemic virtue of simplicity”. But that simplicity doesn’t play any role in generating the probability estimates, so it’s a sort of epistemic epiphenomenon.

Conspiracy Theories

A lot of conspiracy theories appear on the internet. Either they’ve become more common in recent years, or I’m just noticing them more. Anyway, I’m going to comment on what these theories are like, and why I tend to find them implausible, and how they differ from real conspiracies.

1. Patterns of Conspiracy Theorizing

Any time there is a big story about something bad that just happened, if there is any way of having a conspiracy theory about it, you can expect to see these theories popping up. A common pattern is the ironic plot twist: the bad thing was planned by the very person or group who is supposed to be protecting us from that thing!

E.g., if another major terrorist attack occurs in the U.S., there will be people saying that it was planned by the President, the CIA, Homeland Security, or something like that. If there is a disease outbreak, some people will say it was planned by the government or by drug companies. The government and big corporations are favorite characters in conspiracy theories, and the favorite motives are to secure money and power. Left-wingers prefer evil corporation stories, while right-wingers prefer evil government stories.

These are also popular themes in Hollywood movies and TV shows, especially the one about evil businessmen who plan a disaster so they can profit off it. That’s because these make good stories. But I think these fictional stories influence people’s perception of how reality works.

The evidence for the theory is usually some alleged anomalies in the details of the event, given the official story. E.g., in the case of the JFK assassination, there was a surprising number of bullet holes, given the number of shots Oswald is supposed to have fired. (See Oliver Stone’s entertaining film, JFK.)

Sign explaining the construction at the Denver Airport

Sometimes, there are theories that are just absurd, with no attempt to cite evidence, like the theory that the Obama administration started child slave labor camps on Mars (https://www.huffpost.com/entry/nasa-child-slave-alex-jones_n_5956c4a7e4b0da2c732394d7).

2. Implausibility of Conspiracy Theories

Human nature

I don’t have statistics on how often people conspire, or how many disasters are caused by conspiracies. But I tend to give conspiracy theories very low prior probabilities. So low that I don’t listen to their “evidence” or try to rebut it; I just ignore them. Most sensible people do the same. Why do we do this? When we hear a conspiracy theory about some event that we have essentially no background knowledge of (like, an event that we only just learned of), how can we just assign an extremely low probability to it off the bat?

I think one factor is that these theories fail to fit with my general sense of what human beings are like. In this life, I’ve met some humans, interacted with some humans over the internet, and read about stuff that has happened to humans in cases where the main facts are not in dispute. Based on all that, I have some vague expectations about how things would go if you tried to carry out a conspiracy of the sort that I read about on the internet.

To bring this out, imagine that you’re the President circa 2001, and an amazing idea has just occurred to you. If there were to be a major terrorist attack on the U.S., killing thousands of people, your approval ratings would go up by a lot. (That’s really true.) Also, you could probably get Congress to authorize more wars. (True.) All it would take would be a little mass murder. You decide to try to bring about such an attack.

<< Aside: this story is already improbable. In my years on this Earth, I do not believe I have ever met a human being who was like the President depicted in the story so far. Granted, there are psychopaths, who would not blink at the prospect of killing thousands to achieve some minor benefit to themselves. And granted, I have not met any U.S. Presidents or other high government officials. So perhaps, in this story, you are a psychopath who has been elected President. Whatever. >>

What’s next? You’re not going to plant the explosives by your own hand. You call up … Who? Your chief of staff? Your CIA director? … to help. You’re going to need some demolitions experts to plant the explosives. That’s probably a multiple-person job. You’re going to have to ensure that no one sees them planting the explosives, or that if someone does, that person won’t call the police, or that if the police are called, they won’t investigate it or tell anyone about it afterwards. So you’re going to need some other people to figure out how to make that happen. Then you’re going to need some Arabs to fly planes into the World Trade Center at the right time. You’re just a politician, so you don’t personally know the people who would do these jobs. You bring in some of your staff members, maybe someone in the military, or the CIA, and tell them … what? That you’re planning on blowing up the World Trade Center and making it look like a terrorist attack, so you can get reelected in 2004?

Then what happens? What would you actually expect to happen to you, if you were to do something like this in reality, not in a Hollywood movie? I don’t know about you, but I would expect to be out of office via the 25th Amendment later that day, locked in a room with guards stationed outside my door to make sure I don’t try to do any other crazy shit.

Oh, but maybe you only talk to your most trusted confidants about this conspiracy. Right. Now think about your most trusted friends and colleagues. In reality, I mean, the actual people whom you have known in your life, not the characters you’ve seen in movies. Approximately how many of them do you figure would go along with you if you told them that you wanted to blow up a building and murder a bunch of people? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I have ever known one such person. I think every person I’ve ever known would (a) first assume that I was joking, then (b) if I could actually convince them I was serious, would either try to stop me themselves, call the police, or call a psychiatrist.

Why would your cabinet members (or whomever you’re involving) agree to join in mass murder, risking life imprisonment, to help you get reelected? Maybe they are pro-war ideologues? Okay, but what real-world ideology, other than Islamic extremism, would consider something like the 9/11 attack to be good? Do you know any actual conservatives, liberals, or other ideologues who would have condoned the 9/11 attack as a means of bringing about a war, or reelection of their party’s President?

Lots of other people will have to be brought into the plan. They don’t all have to know why they’re doing what they’re doing. But eventually, after you’ve brought down the buildings, you’re going to need to be sure that all those people who worked on your “project” keep their mouths shut. There can’t be one of them who thinks that you’ve done a crazy, horrible thing that has to be reported. Since I don’t know anyone in real life who wouldn’t consider it a crazy, horrible thing, I think your prospects of pulling off the conspiracy would be slim. Furthermore, I think that if you’re the U.S. President, you’re probably savvy enough to know that at the beginning.

Human Immorality

Note that I’m not saying humans are too moral to engage in criminal conspiracies. There are clearly plenty of horrible human beings. Political leaders have done plenty of horrible things. They do not, however, do just any horrible thing; there are patterns to human horribleness.

For instance, ideologues tend to target specific outgroups. If you’re a right-wing ideologue, you might want to do horrible things to foreigners whom you consider a threat to your state. If you’re a religious zealot, you might want to do horrible things to infidels and heretics. But you would generally not want to do horrible things to your ingroup (not even as an excuse for harming the outgroup).

Government officials also sometimes violate the law. But again, not just any law at any time; there are patterns. And blowing up a building full of ordinary Americans in Manhattan just doesn’t fit the pattern of the crimes government officials commit.

Biases

If the existence of a theory is easily explained by common biases, I tend to chalk it up to such bias and not look at it further. Conspiracy theories are so common that it is simplest to suppose that (some) humans have a bias toward conspiracy theories, rather than to suppose that really there are all these initially surprising conspiracies.

The conspiracy theories satisfy our need for drama. They’re interesting, dramatic stories, calculated to arouse outrage. I just don’t think the world behaves like that. The stuff that really happens in the world is usually more boring, with more random noise messing things up. E.g., if a student doesn’t show up to class, it’s more likely that he overslept, or didn’t feel like coming, or got a flat tire on the way, rather than that he is an international spy who was caught in the middle of a high-speed car chase with Interpol at the time he was supposed to come to class.

3. Real Conspiracies

That said, of course there are real conspiracies in the world. Nixon really conspired to undermine the Democrats with the Watergate break-in and other shenanigans. Reagan really conspired to divert money to the Nicaraguan Contras after Congress refused to authorize aid to the Contras.

How do these real conspiracies differ from the (I assume) fictional conspiracies like the 9/11 “inside job”?

One thing I notice is that the real conspiracies are a lot less exciting. Nixon sending a few people to spy on the Democrats to try to collect dirt on them (or whatever he was doing) is nowhere near as exciting as Bush planning to blow up the World Trade Center.

Relatedly, the real conspiracies are things that I simply have a much easier time imagining a normal, non-psychopathic person considering justified. I bet a lot of real Republicans thought Reagan’s illegal Contra support was justified. (Oliver North even became something of a right-wing hero after testifying unapologetically about his role in the conspiracy. By contrast, no one is going to become a right-wing, left-wing, or any other kind of hero in America for unapologetically owning a conspiracy to blow up the World Trade Center.)

The real conspirators, while partly driven by self-interest (e.g., Nixon’s desire to retain power), are mainly driven by ideology. That’s why other people help. The main instigator will identify potential co-conspirators by their political ideology – only people who are very strongly committed to the ideology will be approached. That’s not so hard to identify, because many people are happy to expose their ideology.

By contrast, if you have a conspiracy that is just aimed at getting more money, it is much more dicey to approach people to help you. There are far fewer smart people who are ready to risk committing major crimes for money, and people like that will not announce their attitude. (Of course, there are many dumb people who are happy to do that, like common criminals, but you don’t generally want them.)

Also, real conspirators are not nearly as skilled as the characters in conspiracy fantasies. (Nor are investigators.) Real conspirators don’t have control of everything, don’t anticipate nearly everything, and can’t carry out elaborate plans to make things look almost exactly as if the conspiracy didn’t happen. What they can do is much more like what you or I could do. And they can be caught due to their own oversights and lapses of attention, just as you or I would. E.g., maybe the conspirator would buy some of the supplies used for the crime using his credit card, with his real name.

Because real other people – even if they are high government officials or millionaires – are a lot more like you than they are like movie characters. You know you couldn’t carry out the sort of diabolical conspiracies that we hear about on the internet – or at least, you should know that, if you think about it. I bet you’ve never known anyone who could. If you’re reasonable, you generalize from that, rather than from the stories you see on TV.

Sticks and Stones

As a child, you’re taught that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” At least, children used to be taught that. But it seems that there is an opposing attitude in our culture today: today it often seems that we are more concerned about words than about sticks and stones. I have two thoughts about this: (a) the concern about words is overdrawn, (b) but words are still important.

A. Bombing vs. Tweeting: Which Is Worse?

Case in point: the current Tweeter-in-Chief. I think it safe to say that he has drawn more ire than any other President, or indeed any other public figure, in my lifetime. Most of the expressions of horror at Trump are about something that he said, or rather tweeted. People are angry because his words were racist, sexist, or otherwise offensive. Of course, that is not the only sort of criticism the Chief Tweeter gets, but it does seem to be the most common.

This might seem odd, because on its face tweeting is a very low-importance activity, among the things that Presidents do. One might expect, for example, that the wars the U.S. has engaged in over the past two decades would generate far more outrage than a bunch of stupid tweets.

I know that some people thought those wars were justified, so they wouldn’t be outraged. But I think it is pretty widely accepted among Democrats, especially those most outraged by Trump, that the Iraq war was unjustified, and probably also that we’ve spent too long in Afghanistan. Obama ordered bombings in seven different countries (https://www.cnn.com/2014/09/23/politics/countries-obama-bombed/index.html) and started a program of extrajudicial assassination. Granted, Obama spoke in a calm and polite voice and stayed off Twitter while he was bombing people, which I guess is an advantage. Still, shouldn’t we find these issues many orders of magnitude more important than the tweets?

You might think that Democrats refrained from criticizing Obama’s hawkishness due to pure partisanship. But what about Bush? Bush certainly came in for heavy criticism (at the time, I thought it the heaviest criticism of a political figure I had seen to date), but the anger at Bush now seems mild by comparison to the outrage many feel toward Donald Trump.

That’s weird, isn’t it? The Iraq war killed hundreds of thousands of civilians and paved the way for ISIS to take over. Trump’s tweets haven’t done anything like that. I assume that most Trump-haters would agree that starting the Iraq war was morally far, far worse than all of Trump’s tweets. (?) But it looks to me like the emotional reaction to the latter is greater.

To some extent, we just have to admit, “Yeah, we humans are irrational.” Maybe what’s going on is that the Iraq war was a crime against an outgroup, a bunch of foreigners. The tweets are something Trump is doing to us, causing us to feel offense. (But the Iraq war also killed thousands of U.S. soldiers. But perhaps we don’t care as much about that, because we aren’t soldiers.) Or maybe it’s that the most outraged people are people who care mainly about crimes against an ideology, and less about ordinary, non-ideological harms against actual humans.

Or it’s just that we care more about how polite a person is than how moral they are. You can be a mass murderer and still be popular, as long as you are polite.

B. Talk Matters

Be that as it may, however, I want to say that it’s not unreasonable to be concerned about words. We may be overreacting (and we underreacted to the recent wars), but it is actually important how public figures talk. We are not just being frivolous. Here is why talk matters.

  • Human beings are far more driven by culture than by morality. If an action is obviously immoral but it is accepted in one’s culture, almost everyone will do it without compunction. (Example: buying meat from factory farms.) If an action is against the culture but obviously perfectly morally permissible, then few people will do it. (Example: walking around wearing a cape.) Cultural norms are even more influential than the law. (Example: there is a tradition of breaking the speed limit, so no one feels bad about it.)
  • A big part of how people learn what the cultural norms are is from how people around them talk, and the attitudes they express thereby. We learn how to interact with each other by observing each other talking to each other – not, e.g., by hearing about what the government’s policies are. Sometimes values are explicitly stated, but more often they are communicated implicitly by the emotional reactions people appear to express. E.g., what people appear to be embarrassed about communicates information about what is socially disapproved; the way we talk to each other communicates how we regard each other.
  • In all this, I conjecture, people who have prominent, high-status social positions are more influential. The social norms are taken to be the ones accepted by the socially dominant people; less dominant people follow their lead.
  • Now about Trump in particular:
    • The U.S. President is a paradigm example of a prominent, high-status figure.
    • The way Trump talks is far out of the previous mainstream for public figures. It thus has the potential to alter perceptions of what the culture is. His mode of talking and his attitudes create a second stream in what was previously a fairly unified elite culture.
    • This influence is not going to be good. Because Trump’s values, if one can so describe them, are closer to those of primitive dictators than to what we used to think of as American values.

I once read a story about some Iraqi leaders who visited the U.S. to see how government is run here. According to the story, they viewed some legislative sessions, maybe a city council meeting, and what they were most struck by was how respectfully everyone disagreed. That is part of how things go in well ordered societies. But respectful discourse can be broken down by one or a few people starting in with insults – then other parties follow suit. Then when ordinary people see the elites trading personal attacks, they learn that this is a culture in which we don’t respect each other – that that’s the norm.

Other lessons that people may be learning: we don’t value objectivity, or any form of truthfulness, in this culture. Naked egoism and egotism are acceptable. We blatantly troll people who are “on the other side” rather than engaging in serious discussion. We don’t have any particular problem with violence.

I here focus on things that ordinary, non-politicians might imitate; they won’t imitate government policies, since they don’t have any such power.

C. In Praise of Hypocrisy

Political leaders often violate the values of society with their policies. For instance, violating the norm against murder by bombing civilians. They also regularly steal and coerce, of course, as that is the main business of government. When they do these things, traditionally, they give some hypocritical rationalizations. They would always deny that they are committing murder and theft. They would insist that they and the rest of the government hold to the highest ideals.

Of course, smart, informed people know that the politicians are lying. But that hypocrisy communicates something. The fact that you say you are committed to freedom, or respect for all human life, etc., while you’re oppressing and killing people, communicates to ordinary observers something about what the norms of this society are. The social norms are that we value freedom, respect for life, etc., because the leaders would be too ashamed to admit that they were violating those ideals. What people feel they have to lie about communicates what the norms are – not what those people value, but what society values.

Remember the story of Jamal Khashoggi, who was murdered and cut into pieces in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul, on orders from the Saudi crown prince. Trump more or less communicated that he didn’t care about the murder, because Saudi Arabia is going to spend billions of dollars on U.S. military equipment. Some people on the internet immediately started “whatabout”ing – what about the crimes that occurred during the Obama administration?!, etc. Other people on Facebook found it “refreshing” that Trump was openly acknowledging that we don’t give a crap about murder as long as we’re getting money.

No, it is not refreshing. It is evil. And it’s horrifying that Americans would start minimizing murder, or trying to find the good side to openly tolerating murder. When did we become this? When did opposition to grisly murder become a partisan issue?

D. Reacting

I don’t think Trump and his enraged opponents can change the culture in the long term; I think the culture will gradually recover after he leaves office. But they are changing the culture in the short term.

What is the appropriate reaction? One school of thought is that we should loudly condemn Trump. If enough people do this, it will succeed in communicating the values of society. One person openly displaying lack of shame about anything surely can’t change the perception of the cultural norms, if everyone around that person is condemning him.

A problem I see with this thought is that there is not enough unity in society to do this. There are too many Trump supporters. So that when the mainstream elites are loudly condemning him, it just looks like they’re exemplifying the cultural norm, “Around here, we attack those on the other side of our political views with wild abandon.” Then you have a cycle of enraged attacks.

A similar question is how one should respond to unreasonable and destructive people on the left. One can respond by condemning them, but that might just set up a downward spiral of mutual attacks.

Another line of thought is that one should engage respectfully and reasonably, even with the disrespectful and unreasonable, and in that way demonstrate one’s continued adherence to the pre-Trump cultural norms, in an effort to strengthen them. Problem: this risks communicating acceptance of the unreasonable, etc., people’s behavior.

Another approach is to refuse to engage with the unreasonable, dishonest, etc., thus avoiding the degenerating spiral of attacks while also avoiding communicating tolerance. Problem: this lets sufficiently unreasonable people put out there crazy claims without being contradicted.

What do you think is the best reaction?

My Problems with Social Justice

Social Justice Warrior Training Video

Activists for “social justice” (a.k.a. Social Justice Warriors, or SJW’s) have risen to prominence in our culture in the last few years. I have a number of disagreements with them. But I’m going to tell you my biggest problem with the SJ movement: I don’t think that they value justice. I think that they are activists against justice.

Now, if my complaint were merely an ideological disagreement over the particular requirements of justice regarding certain issues, you might not be too worried. And indeed, some of my problem concerns such ideological disagreement. For example:

  • I don’t think that wealth inequality is unjust, and I don’t think redistribution is just. Instead, I think government wealth redistribution violates property rights and is thus unjust.
  • I don’t think affirmative action is just. Instead, I think it’s a form of unfair and harmful discrimination.
  • Related to the previous two points: I don’t think there are any group rights (e.g., rights of a race or class); there are only individual rights. So there cannot be any injustices to a group as such; there can only be injustices to individuals.
  • I don’t think natural events or their consequences can be unjust; only intentional, freely chosen actions and their consequences can be unjust. Thus, e.g., I reject luck egalitarianism.

Still, you can understand the philosophical disagreements about the above points, and so you can understand how people on both sides of the issues can be pursuing justice (de dicto, as philosophers say). If someone is advancing policies that are in fact unjust, they need not be opposed to justice per se; they may just be mistaken about what justice requires. Who knows; perhaps I am mistaken about what justice requires.

But some justice requirements are different. Some things are just core, uncontroversial requirements of justice. If someone rejects these, then you can really conclude that they do not value justice. If someone actively opposes satisfying such requirements, that person is an anti-justice activist. To say a little more about what I mean:

  • Uncontroversial requirements: These are things that anyone who understands the concept “justice” will agree to be implied by “justice”. Judgements about it do not vary across political party, for example. The best examples will be accepted throughout history, and across cultures.
  • Core requirements: These are things that are central and important to the concept of justice, rather than minor or peripheral implications.

The best example that I can think of:

It is unjust to punish a person for a crime they did not commit.

The principle of course applies not only to actual law-violations, but to any alleged misdeeds. The principle requires those who value justice to also care about truth. In particular, if a person is accused of doing X, then, if the person really did X, this may be cause for punishment. But if the person did not in fact do X, then, uncontroversially, the person should not be punished for X.

This is not some right-wing ideological conception of justice. This is a universal principle. This has always been recognized. Any society that has a notion of justice will agree with this. Nor is it a minor or peripheral aspect of justice. It is the most central, paradigmatic norm of justice that I can think of.

The other points I mentioned above are much less central, much more debatable. Whether inequality of wealth is an injustice, for example, is open to debate. Or whether hiring preferences for racial minorities are an injustice. You can have a conception of justice that takes either position, or no position, on those issues. But you cannot have a recognizable conception of justice that is either in favor of or neutral toward punishing the innocent.

Yet that, it seems, is how the conception of “social justice” is. Those who campaign for social justice are exercised about certain kinds of crimes or alleged crimes. Especially crimes of immoral belief or offensive speech. (Only about certain groups, of course; e.g., if you hold the immoral and offensive belief that terrorism against random American civilians is permissible, that is not something the SJWs will be particularly concerned about.) Of course, they are also concerned about more tangible deeds, such as physical attacks against these certain groups, but that’s common to everyone. The concern about immoral thought and speech is more distinctive of the social justice movement.

I’m not going to talk now about whether those are crimes genuinely worthy of punishment. That could obviously be debated. But if one thinks these alleged crimes are worthy of some kind of punishment (not necessarily legal punishment, but perhaps social sanctions), one must, if one claims to value justice, care about the truth of who did or did not commit them.

There seem to be a number of cases showing that a large portion of social justice activists do not in fact care about that. When someone is accused of a social-justice-related sin, there will be many activists who want that person punished, and they will not expend any effort to determine whether the person in fact committed the sin. If given evidence that the person did not do so, they will not care. They will not, e.g., apologize to the person or rescind their earlier condemnation. It’s not that SJWs specifically prefer to punish the innocent. It is just that punishing the innocent does not especially concern them.

In case anyone has been living in a cave and needs some examples of what I’m talking about, here are a few:

  • The Duke lacrosse case: In 2006, the Duke University lacrosse team was basically accused of gang raping a black woman whom they had hired as a stripper for a party. The accused were all white men. The university community was outraged by the horrific crime, especially left-wing social justice people. Some protestors urged the castration of the lacrosse players. A group of 88 faculty members signed a public statement apparently presupposing the guilt of the players and thanking protestors for not waiting for the police investigation to conclude (https://web.archive.org/web/20070720032604/http://listening.nfshost.com/listening.htm). In fact, the case against the players was extremely weak. Eventually, the Attorney General dropped the charges, declaring the players innocent, and the original prosecutor of the case was disbarred for his misconduct in the case (something that virtually never happens, by the way). But in the end, only three members of the group of 88 ever apologized for their rush to judgment. (See KC Johnson’s blog on the case: http://durhamwonderland.blogspot.com/.)
  • The Noah Carl case: More recently, a group of about 600 academics signed a letter that succeeded in getting Noah Carl fired from a research fellowship position at St. Edmund’s college, for his alleged “racist pseudoscience” (https://medium.com/@racescienceopenletter/open-letter-no-to-racist-pseudoscience-at-cambridge-472e1a7c6dca). The letter accuses Carl’s work of being “ethically suspect and methodologically flawed”, of relying on “discredited ‘race sciences’”, of being “nothing more than an expression of opinion on various social matters”. But it doesn’t cite any evidence of any of this, and the accusations appear to be just factually false. One critic complained about Carl’s use of the term “genetic intelligence”, yet Carl does not in fact use that term. It appears that a major impetus for the attacks was that Carl defended the right of researchers to investigate race and intelligence (https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s40806-018-0152-x), though he did not himself investigate that topic. The signatories of the letter do not appear to have actually read Carl’s work; see https://quillette.com/2018/12/07/academics-mobbing-of-a-young-scholar-must-be-denounced/.
  • The Rebecca Tuvel case: In this case, Tuvel was attacked, again with a large number of signatories to a public statement against her, for publishing a paper comparing “transracialism” (identifying with a different race from one’s race-at-birth, so to speak) to transgenderism. (See the statement.) Some of the attacks were factually false or misleading in a way that is obvious if you read the paper, e.g., the obviously unfair complaint about “deadnaming”. The overall thrust of the complaint seems to be that Tuvel’s article was transphobic. But if you read the article, it’s just obvious that that is not, as a matter of fact, true. She is not against accepting transgender people; rather, she is in favor of accepting transracial people.

There are many cases like this. Now, what is noteworthy is not simply that errors were made. What is noteworthy is the lack of concern about the truth – e.g., the lack of interest in waiting to find out what actually happened, in doing the most basic investigation of the facts of a case before signing a statement about it, and the almost total lack of regret for attacking innocent people.

A person who cares about justice can make mistakes. They can inflict punishment on a person for a thing the person did not in fact do – because, after all, all humans are fallible. What a person who values justice cannot do is to not care about making this kind of mistake. Not punishing people for things they did not do is a non-negotiable commitment of justice. If you do not care about that, then you do not care about justice.

Now, you might say that perhaps the SJWs have identified some other, valid principles of justice that they are really committed to that I have failed to perceive. Maybe they’re right about those controversial justice issues I mentioned at the start, about inequality or affirmative action. But if a person can’t get on the right side of the most basic, uncontroversial aspects of justice, I don’t think you should trust them about much more fraught issues.

Notice also that it is not just a few SJWs who have this problem. In each of these cases, there were public letters signed by a lot of people. And not just by random internet trolls, but by university scholars. That, I think, really reveals something about the social justice movement; it’s not just a fluke or a minor failing.

This is not something that would happen with other movements – you would not get hundreds of people, in a movement nominally dedicated to some value X, to publicly, obviously violate a core principle of X. You could not, e.g., get hundreds of libertarian scholars to directly help the state enslave some people. You could not get hundreds of Christian scholars to pee on a statue of Christ.

So what is it that the SJWs value? I don’t know. Maybe they value equality. Maybe they are just opposed to whatever they see as belonging to the dominant culture. I suspect that the motivation for signing public statements like those mentioned above is essentially tribal: they are publicly signaling their group affiliation. Some people call it “virtue signaling”, but a more accurate term would be “faction signaling”. It’s like waving a big flag for your social faction. And it kind of feels good to be part of a mob. If that’s what you want to do, then indeed it does not matter what the facts of a particular case may be; the case is just an excuse to wave that flag. The facts only matter if you’re actually trying to do justice.

Justice is blind to social factions. Justice, for example, will not automatically support the side of a black woman against a group of wealthy, white, male athletes. It won’t just support the people you find most sympathetic or most aligned with your faction.

That’s why so few people care about justice.

Tenure Doesn’t Work

1. Why Do We Have Tenure?

Tenure is a weird idea. “Let’s have a system where, after you’ve done good work for 6 years, your employer commits to employing you for the rest of your life!” Wow, this sounds really nice. I wonder why we don’t have this for all jobs?

Duh, because then work quality (and showing up on time, and everything else you want employees to do) would dramatically decline after year 6. It also makes things much harder if management has to restructure the business due to changes in the market, etc.

Oh yeah. Okay. Then why wouldn’t that happen to professors as well? Um . . . because professors are unlike all other humans in being selfless paragons of virtue whose only motive is to do their jobs well?

No, no. Maybe it does happen with professors; it’s just that, in this one case, it’s worth it to have a drop in quality because there is also an increase in academic freedom, and this freedom is more important than anything else in the academic world. Professors have to have complete job security in order to freely investigate controversial questions, and to follow wherever the evidence leads on these questions, regardless of who might be offended. The academic world is so fundamentally, absolutely committed to freedom of thought and freedom of expression that every major university has accepted this protection for their research professors, despite the obvious costs.

Yeah. That’s it.

2. Tenure Does Not Protect Academic Freedom

At least, that’s the standard story we tell. The problem is, tenure does a very poor job of protecting academic freedom. There are a number of reasons for this.

Methods other than firing

There are many methods to suppress free expression besides firing professors. There is the method of “deplatforming”, in which people at universities dis-invite or try to silence speakers with controversial ideas. Journals and book publishers can also refuse to publish their work, conferences can reject their papers, and funding agencies can refuse them grants. There is the method of more general social ostracism. And the method of starting up mobs to shout people down, or setting up petitions and letters to attack people and call for them to be blacklisted. University administrators can also make life less pleasant for professors without firing them; for instance, a controversial professor could simply be barred from teaching a particular class, or covering certain controversial topics (example). Also, in some universities, a tenured professor who can’t legally be fired can be temporarily suspended without pay.

Academics are not generally the most courageous of people, so the threat of the above measures is enough to fairly effectively impose ideological uniformity.

Now, if the academic world generally valued freedom of thought and expression, then some of the above methods would not be possible. But it has been some years since that was remotely the case.

Tenured people can be fired

Of course, tenured professors can still be fired, even legally, but the conditions for this are more restricted than for untenured employees; the prof would have to have violated some fairly serious rule, or at least be accused of such. He “can’t” be fired merely for expressing controversial views. That is, doing so would be against the rules.

However, really, a tenured professor can be fired for his political views, since people can in fact violate rules. It is just that they have to be prepared for the consequences if and when others see the rule-violation. In this case, if a university decides to fire a professor for his political views, then that ex-professor will have the option to file a lawsuit, at the cost of some tens of thousands of dollars, of course, which this now-unemployed professor may or may not be able to afford. The university will probably devise some pretext for firing him, and the ex-prof will have to try to prove in court that it was really his political views.

If he succeeds, he will then probably get some money from the university. He’ll still be out of the university, though, and no other university will ever hire him. (Example.)

Independence is screened out

Most people are fairly consistent in their beliefs over time, and nearly all will reveal their important beliefs at some point, if observed for a period of several years. This is to say that by the end of the 6-year review period, a professor’s colleagues are going to know if he has controversial political views. Therefore, if they want to discriminate, they’ll do it when he comes up for tenure. The review period will simply act as a method of screening out people with unpopular views, and locking in, for life, the people who have sufficiently proved their conformity.

If, improbably enough, a person has unpopular views, or just has a general tendency to think independently, but this person does not reveal that during the 6-year review period, then the chances are that this person also will not publish controversial views after he obtains tenure either. Because people tend to be fairly consistent in their behavior. They just don’t radically alter their interests, beliefs, or ways of expressing themselves after six years of conformity.

On the other hand, if the university doesn’t want to discriminate, and thus will not use the tenure review process to screen out controversial people, then they also will not fire a professor for his controversial views, whether or not that professor has tenure.

So in the case where tenure is needed, it probably won’t work; in the case where it would work, it isn’t needed.

Empirical evidence

Of course, I am not saying that tenure has no impact whatsoever on academic freedom. It might produce some marginal increase in academic freedom. It just isn’t big enough to be noticed.

One of the reasons why I think tenure doesn’t protect academic freedom very well is that, after occupying the academic world for a few decades, it just does not seem to me to be a locus of free expression. American universities might be the places in the country least open to free expression. If you want to get less free, you have to go to China.

3. Tenure Protects Laziness

So tenure doesn’t do very well at what it’s supposed to do (protect freedom). It does, however, do a good job at what it isn’t supposed to do — protect lazy or otherwise substandard employees.

How could this be? How could it protect the people who shouldn’t be protected, yet fail to protect those who should?

The reason is that tenure creates a default assumption that someone will continue in their job, one that will generally not be reexamined unless that person attracts special attention. It also makes it costly to fire an employee, whether for good cause or no.

Therefore, if a particular professor does not do anything that would attract a lot of attention to himself, or that would especially make people angry, then that professor will generally continue in his job. If all he’s doing is being lazy on the job, it just isn’t worth it to go to all the trouble of getting rid of this professor.

It is only the professors who defend controversial ideas who will attract enough attention, and cause enough anger, to make people start thinking of ways to make their lives unpleasant, start thinking of pretexts for firing them, etc.

Tenure creates a sort of short barrier to getting rid of a professor. The barrier is high enough to deter firing people for laziness, but not high enough to deter firing people for offensive political views.

4. The Real Function of Tenure

Tenure exists because academics want job security.

Academics are, on average, (i) intelligent, (ii) well-educated, and (iii) risk averse. Because of the first two traits, most could earn much higher salaries working in other jobs. E.g., most philosophers could have been wealthy lawyers (similar skills are used, but the hurdles for becoming a philosopher are higher). But because of the third factor, they can be attracted to work in the academic sector by job security, despite lower pay. The job security, I speculate, is more valuable to professors than flexibility is to universities, since universities really don’t have a need to fire people very often.

Plus, universities don’t care that much about efficiency or doing any particular job well. They would kind of prefer if you didn’t become very lazy, but they don’t care all that much. There is such a vast ocean of needless writings that nobody cares about, that no one will much notice if you stop adding your little trickle of verbiage into that ocean.

5. How to Protect Academic Freedom

Most academics don’t believe in academic freedom anymore, if we ever did. Of course, everyone wants to be free to say what we ourselves have to say. But we don’t much care about other people having the freedom to say things that other people have to say that we disagree with. Many academics are indeed actively, dogmatically, stridently opposed to academic freedom in that sense.

Of course, they wouldn’t put it that way. They wouldn’t say, “I hate free speech.” They would say something more like, “Of course I support free speech … for legitimate ideas! But not for objectively offensive, evil ideas that have no intellectual merit.” But the latter statement is pretty much equivalent to “I hate free speech.”

But suppose, counterfactually, that we cared about academic freedom. What would we do about it? Probably the most straightforward step, rather than guaranteeing lifetime job security, would be to simply make a rule that no one can be fired for controversial beliefs. This could be written into university bylaws and contracts with professors. Unlike tenure, this provision would protect instructors, adjuncts, assistant professors, and graduate students, in addition to tenured professors. We could make it even stronger: there could be a rule of “no discrimination based upon ideology,” which would apply to hiring decisions, promotion decisions, and all other decisions in the university. This would be like the law that already exists prohibiting employer discrimination based on race, sex, national origin, and religion (the Civil Rights Act of 1964). It would just extend that to an additional category, and it would be a university policy rather than a federal law.

The rule could even specify what the remedy should be if an employee is fired for his beliefs. E.g., it could specify that he is entitled to be reinstated, or that he is entitled to ten years’ worth of wages, or that the administrators who fired him have to be fired. These provisions, again, would be subject to enforcement by the courts. (Normally, the court decides the remedy in a lawsuit, but the parties to an agreement can specify the remedy for a breach in advance.)

Now, you might wonder about how well this would be enforced. What if administrators fired someone for controversial opinions anyway? What recourse would they have?

A: The same as in the status quo, if they fire a tenured professor. The professor can sue in court and hope to collect damages, if he can convince the jury that he was fired for his opinions. It’s just that my rule would also protect free speech for non-tenured people, but it would not protect laziness.

So that’s what we would do, in the hypothetical world where we cared about freedom.