Author: Michael LaBossiere

For years, the right passed anti-choice laws in the hope they would end up in the Supreme Court and lead to the overturning of Roe v Wade. They finally succeeded and anti-abortion groups claimed a major victory over the will of the people.  

While purporting to be motivated by pro-life (or at least anti-death) principles, these laws and bills are fundamentally misogynistic. They have three fundamental functions. The first is to appease a key portion of the base.

Second, couched in pro-life language, these laws provide excellent dog whistles for misogynists. The male misogynists generally understand that the message being sent to them is: “Your baby in her body. Her body in your kitchen. Making you a sandwich to put in your body.” More generally, the laws say to the misogynists in the base “we are misogynists like you, and we will put women in their proper place.”  Naturally, to make these claims is to seem crazy in the eyes of the “normies.”

Third, the laws  codify misogyny by harming women. To be fair, I can add a fourth reason that brings in the Democrats: the abortion debate was something of a battlefield of deceit in which the Republicans falsely claim to be pro-life (or at least anti-death) and the mainstream Democrats agreed to fight the battle on this assumption. The Democrats rhetoric is that they are pro-choice and the mainstream never seems inclined to get into a substantial and complex fight over the core ethical and political issues. That is, of course, broadly true across   mainstream politics: politicians mouthing their fighting words while keeping the status quo stable and themselves in power. But it could be objected that I am mischaracterizing things.

One objection is that while some misogynists might support these laws, proponents of anti-abortion laws, such as Alabama governor Kay Ivey, claim their  motivation is to protect life. As the governor said, “to the bill’s many supporters, this legislation stands as a powerful testament to Alabamians’ deeply held belief that every life is precious and that every life is a sacred gift from God.” But this is a bad faith claim.

Given the professed view that Alabamans regard life as a precious, sacred gift, one should be shocked to learn that Alabama is terrible in terms of maternal and infant health. Alabama is tied for 4th worst in the United States, with 7.4 deaths per 1,000 live births. While it might be argued that this is due to factors beyond their control, there is a consistent correlation between strong anti-abortion laws and poor maternal and infant health. While correlation is not causation, the reason for this correlation is clear: the state governments that enact the strictest anti-abortion laws also show, via public policies, the least concern for maternal and infant health. Texas, as should surprise no one, also has a high maternal mortality rate. While not nearly as bad as Texas and Alabama, Florida also has a high maternal (and infant) mortality rate. 

This is inconsistent with the professed principle that life is a precious, sacred gift. It is also inconsistent with the professed motivation for anti-abortion laws: to protect the life of children. It is, however, consistent with the hypothesis that anti-abortion laws are largely motivated by misogynistic principles. After all, if legislators pass anti-abortion laws because of hostility towards women’s reproductive freedom and wellbeing, then one would also expect them to neglect maternal and infant health in their other policies. On the face of it, this is the better explanation.

Another objection is that the laws are aimed at reducing the number of abortions and this is not misogynistic. Again, it just so happens that it impacts women. The easy and obvious reply is that the most effective way to reduce abortions is to reduce the need for them. Improved sex education and easy and free access to birth control reduces unwanted pregnancies. One might assert that anti-abortion folks also tend to oppose sex ed and birth control; but these are also usually misogynistic positions as well. Defending misogyny with more misogyny is hardly a good defense against an accusation of misogyny.

For those who oppose sex-ed and birth control without being misogynists, one can argue for using social programs to provide women and girls with adequate resources to complete a pregnancy and raise the child. But, as is well known, the anti-abortion folks tend to be savage opponents of programs that help mothers and children. If they were so devoted to life that they think the state should use its coercive power to take control over  women, then they should be on board with providing basic state support to enable more women to choose to complete their pregnancy. But the easy and obvious explanation is that the pro-life claims are bad faith assertions; they are not pro-life but are misogynists.

A final objection is to point to women who support anti-abortion laws. Surely, one might say, women would not support misogynist laws. And, of course, men involved with the laws can point out that they have a mother and some of their best friends are women. So how can they be misogynists?

In some cases, women support such laws from ignorance. That is, they accept the bad faith reasons and think that they are supporting the protection of life, not realizing the misogynist consequences of the laws. Interestingly, women on the right are sometimes shocked that the right is misogynistic. They apparently fail to grasp that racism and sexism are the peanut butter and chocolate of the right. In other cases, they might be aware that the laws are advanced in bad faith but agree with the stated goal of restricting abortion. So, they go along with the misogyny because it gets them something they want.

 A third possibility is that a woman is herself a misogynist—while this might sound odd, it can happen. Finally, a woman might be an opportunist rather than ignorant or a misogynist—she has calculated that she will gain more as an individual by backing misogyny than she will lose as a woman. So, for example, a female judge or politician might recognize that the right is fundamentally misogynistic but decide that she gains a personal advantage by joining them. Just as the folks on the right desire a few minorities to provide them with a “black friend” as a shield against accusations of racism, they also want a few women to provide them with a shield against accusations of sexism.

Somewhat ironically, the powerful women on the right represent something radical that undermines the right: they hold these positions of power because of the past battles fought by the left.  Also, capable women in power give lie to the misogyny of the right (and left).  Not so long ago, the right (and left) was openly misogynistic; but this has changed and there is a strong reaction to this shift. It is, of course, ironic that the women who occupy their positions of power due to the fight against misogyny are fighting so hard to roll back the clock for women in general. Perhaps they think that they will retire before the clock is rolled back. Perhaps they are unaware of the consequences of what they are fighting for. Or perhaps they sincerely believe that they should not have been allowed to be where they chose to be and that future women should not be allowed this choice. Or perhaps they know that they will remain the exception to the oppression they wish to impose on other women.

It might be wondered why anyone would bother making the arguments I have made. After all, the right and their supporters are either already aware of the misogynistic purpose of the laws or will not believe me. But there seems to be some value in attempting to reveal that the right’s arguments are in bad faith. There is a slight chance that some people might change their minds about supporting such bad faith laws.

It also seems desirable to try to reveal the bad faith on the right. For example, when they engage in their bad faith arguments and rhetoric about protecting life, that would be the ideal time to call them out on their lack of support (and opposition) to laws that do protect children. These include regulating pollutants that kill children, providing stronger social support for children, ensuring clean water and adequate food for children, providing quality education for children, ensuring quality health care for children, and so on for so many things the “pro-life” right fights. Whenever a right-wing politician proposes a “pro-life” bill, the left should immediately try to add real pro-life components, such as funding for maternal care and the health of children. When a “pro-life” governor is professing their love of life, they should be asked about the infant and maternal mortality rates in their state. And so on.

 

In fiction, race/gender swapping occurs when an established character’s race or gender is changed. For example, the original Nick Fury character in Marvel is a white man but was changed to a black man in the Ultimates and in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As another example, the original Dr. Smith in the TV show Lost in Space is a man; the Netflix reboot made the character a woman. As would be expected, some people are enraged when a swap occurs. Some are open about their racist or sexist reasons for their anger and are clear that they do not want females and non-white people in certain roles. Some criticize a swap by asking why there was a swap instead of either creating a new character or focusing on a less well-known existing character. For example, a critic of the He-Man reboot might be angry that King Grayskull was changed from white to black and raise the critical question “what about Clamp Champ?”

Such questions can be asked in bad faith; the person asking them makes it clear that they are angry that minorities and women are allowed to take traditional white male roles. As such, it is not that they want new women or minority characters or more focus on existing characters, the question is a cover for their racism and sexism. These questions serve well in this role as they are not overtly racist or sexist. In fact, when raised in good faith, these are reasonable aesthetic questions. Unfortunately, these questions are now well-established as dog-whistles that allow people to hide their racism and sexism from “normies” while sending a clear signal to those in the know. That some people use these questions without racist or sexist intent helps maintain their innocuous appearance. Someone using them as racist or sexist tools can claim, in bad faith, that they are just asking reasonable questions. And then go on to rage against how “the woke” are ruining everything by compelling race/gender swaps and forcing diversity. Those who call them out on this can seem crazy to those who do not understand the context. But let us ask these questions in good faith.

The most obvious practical reason why race/gender swapping is used instead of creating a new character or focusing on an established character is money. Creating and branding a new character (and building up a fan base) takes time and resources. And it is a gamble, since there is also no guarantee of success. So, keeping the Nick Fury character while making him black made more practical sense than creating a new character to serve as the head of SHIELD. While less well-known characters can become a great success (for example, the Guardians of the Galaxy), this is risky as there  are often reasons why such characters are less well known. But this only explains why a new character was not created or why focus was not shifted, it does not explain why the race/gender swap occurred. Fortunately, this is easy to explain and even justify.

While some critics claim that the liberals, feminists and the woke are forcing companies to gender/race swap, these companies seem to be doing this for the same reason they do almost anything: money. Their marketing and research folks are aware that demographics and perceptions change. So, whereas fiction dominated by white male characters was the moneymaker in the past, more diverse characters appeal to some audiences now. If these changes were purely political and hated by most people, these swaps would be consistent and constant failures. This is not to make the absurd claim that they all succeed, just that they do not seem unusually prone to financial failure. Those who say “go woke, go broke” tend to cherry pick their example of failures and ignore the abundance of unsuccessful media that is “traditional” rather than “woke.”

No nefarious conspiracies are needed to explain swaps; this is just businesses trying to maximize profits by minimizing cost and exploiting established brands. Demographics and values change and this explains both the swaps and the rage at the swaps. 

It is also worth noting that despite the hyperbole about Hollywood not having new ideas, new characters do get created often. Netflix, for example, floods its service with new shows with new characters which often include females and non-white people. And attempts are made to focus on characters that have been overlooked. These efforts often make the people who ask, “why not create a new character?” angry as it exposes that they ask this question in bad faith. Aside from money, are there good reasons to race/gender swap rather than  create a new character or focus on an existing character?

One excellent aesthetic reason is that doing so can make for an interesting plot that explicitly explores the influence of race and gender on the character and story. For example, one episode of Marvel’s What If..? Explores what would have happened if Peggy Carter had become a super soldier rather than Steve Rogers. This swap has a meaningful impact on the story in part because of the assumed gender roles of that time (and now). I think this is one of the best aesthetic justifications for such swaps.  Obviously, some people get very angry about such explorations.

Another good aesthetic reason, especially in a reboot, is to use the gender/race swap to create new story and character dynamics. While the focus is not on exploring race/gender issues, these do become new elements for an old character in telling a new story. This also tends to make some people very mad.

There are also various moral reasons to make such changes. One reason is to provide people with characters they can more easily identify with. While critics will claim that people should be able to identify with any hero, ironically this would favor allowing such swaps. After all, if people can identify with any hero, then it should not matter if they were race/gender swapped. Another moral reason is to help foster parasocial relationships using the power of established characters. One reason racists and sexists dislike diversity in fiction is that people can form parasocial relationships and this can make them more tolerant which is something racists and sexists oppose. There are, of course, bad reasons to race/gender swap.

Some might consider the “make money” reason to be a bad one, which is not unreasonable from an aesthetic or moral standpoint. If the swap is purely to make money and it has no aesthetic or moral justification, then criticism would seem warranted. But a swap could make money and be independently warranted on ethical or aesthetic grounds. Also, one would need to be consistent in such criticisms. To use an analogy, the Toyota Corolla of today is radically different from when I was a kid; yet the brand name is kept because doing so is advantageous and helps make money. But people do not get very angry about that.

As noted above, some claim that the swaps are compelled by political actors such as the liberals, SJWs,  the woke, and feminists. If a swap were just the result of political compulsion and it lacked all ethical and aesthetic merit, then that swap should be criticized. But a swap could be compelled but also independently warranted on ethical or aesthetic grounds. It is also worth mentioning again that companies are motivated by profit; their political stances are shaped by the bottom line. And even if they were driven by politics or ideology, one would still need to show that their politics and ideology are bad. They usually are, but for different reasons.

While most swaps are motivated by hope of profits, there are good reasons to race/gender swap a character rather than creating a new one. But creating new characters or focusing on less well-known characters are also good options—it all depends on what one is trying to do. Ideally, the swap would be to tell a better story; but there is nothing inherently wrong with swapping for any number of other reasons.

Cuphead on SteamDirect

Inuendo Studios presents an excellent and approachable analysis of the infamous Gamer Gate and its role in later digital radicalization. This video inspired me to think about manufactured outrage, which reminded me of the fake outrage over such video games as Cuphead and Doom. There was also similar rage against the She-Ra and He-Man reboots. Mainstream fictional outrage against fiction involved the Republican’s rage against Dr. Seuss being “cancelled.” Unfortunately, fictional outrage can lead to real consequences, such as death threats, doxing, swatting, and harassment. In politics fictional outrage is weaponized for political gain, widens the political divide between Americans, and escalates emotions. In short, fictional outrage at fiction makes reality worse. 

I call this fictional outrage at fiction for two reasons. The first is that the outrage is fictional: it is manufactured and based on untruths. The second is that the outrage is at works of fiction, such as games, TV shows, movies, and books. Since Thought Slime, Innuendo Studios, Shaun, and others have ably gone through examples in detail, I will focus on some of the rhetorical and fallacious methods used in fictional outrage at fiction. These methods also apply to non-fiction targets as well, but I am mainly interested in fiction here. Part of my motivation is to show that some people put energy into enraging others about make-believe things like games and TV shows. While fiction is subject to moral evaluation, it should be remembered that it is fiction. Although our good dead friend Plato would certainly take issue with my view.

While someone can generate fictional outrage by complete lies, this is usually less effective than using some residue of truth. Hyperbole is an effective tool for this task. Hyperbole is usually distinguished from outright lying because hyperbole is an exaggeration rather than a complete fabrication. For example, if someone says they caught a huge fish they would be simply lying if they caught nothing but would be using hyperbole if they caught a small fish. There can be debate over what is hyperbole and what is simply a lie. For example, when the Dr. Seuss estate decided to stop publishing six books, the Republicans and their allies claimed Dr. Seuss had been cancelled by the left. While it was true that six books would not be published, it can be argued whether saying the left cancelled them is hyperbole or simply a lie. Either way, of course, the claim is not true.

   Even if the target audience knows hyperbole is being used, it can still influence their emotions, especially if they want to believe. So, even if someone recognizes that the “wrongdoing” of a games journalist was absurdly exaggerated, they might still go along with the outrage. A person who is particularly energetic and dramatic in their hyperbole can also use their showmanship to augment its impact.

The defense against hyperbole is, obviously, to determine the truth of the matter. One should always be suspicious of claims that seem extreme or exaggerated, although they should not be automatically dismissed as extreme claims can be true. Especially since we live in a time of extremes.

A common fallacy used in fictional outrage is the Straw Man. This fallacy is committed when someone ignores an actual position, claim or action and substitutes a distorted, exaggerated, or misrepresented version of it. This fallacy often involves hyperbole. This sort of “reasoning” has the following pattern:

 

  1. Person A has position X/makes claim X/did X.
  2. Person B presents Y (which is a distorted version of X).
  3. Person B attacks Y.
  4. Therefore, X is false/incorrect/flawed/wrong.

 

This sort of “reasoning” is fallacious because attacking a distorted version of something does not constitute an attack on the thing itself. One might as well expect an attack on a drawing of a person to physically harm the person. To illustrate the way the fallacy is often used, consider what happened to start the “outrage” over Cuphead. A writer played an early version of the game badly, noted that they were doing badly, and were generally positive about the game. All this was ignored by those wanting to manufacture rage: they presented it as a game journalist condemning the game for being too hard because they are bad at games. And it escalated from there.  

The Straw Man fallacy is an excellent way to manufacture rage; one can simply create whatever custom villain they wish by distorting reality. As with hyperbole, there is the question of what distinguishes a straw man from a complete fabrication; the difference is that the Straw Man fallacy starts with some truth and then distorts it. To use the Cuphead example, if a person had never even played Cuphead or said anything about it, saying that they hated the game because they are incompetent would be a complete fabrication rather than a straw man.

Straw Man attacks tend to work because people generally do not bother to investigate the accuracy of claims they want to believe; and even if they are not already invested in the claim, checking a claim takes some effort. It is easier to just believe (or not) without checking. People also often expect others to be truthful, which is increasingly unwise.

The defense against a Straw Man is to check the facts. Ideally this would involve going to the original source or at least using a credible and objective source.

A third common fallacy used in fictional outrage is Hasty Generalization. This fallacy is committed when a person draws a conclusion about a population based on a sample that is not large enough. It has the following form:

 

Premise 1. Sample S, which is too small, is taken from population P.

Conclusion: Claim C is drawn about Population P based on S.

 

The person committing fallacy is misusing the following type of reasoning, which is known as Inductive Generalization, Generalization, and Statistical Generalization:

 

Premise 1: X% of all observed A’s are B’s.

Premise : Therefore X% of all A’s are B’s.

 

The fallacy is committed when not enough A’s are observed to warrant the conclusion. If enough A’s are observed, then the reasoning is not fallacious. Since Hasty Generalization is committed when the sample (the observed instances) is too small, it is important to have samples that are large enough when making a generalization.

This fallacy is useful in creating fictional outrage because it enables a person to (fallaciously) claim that something is widespread based on a small sample. If the sample is extremely small and it is a matter of an anecdote, then a similar fallacy, Anecdotal Evidence, can be committed. This fallacy is committed when a person draws a conclusion about a population based on an anecdote (a story) about one or a very small number of cases. The fallacy is also committed when someone rejects reasonable statistical data supporting a claim in favor of a single example or small number of examples that go against the claim. The fallacy is considered by some to be a variation of Hasty Generalization.  It has the following forms:

 

Form One

Premise 1: Anecdote A is told about a member (or small number of members) of Population P.

Conclusion: Claim C is made about Population P based on Anecdote A.

 

Form Two

  1. Reasonable statistical evidence S exists for general claim C.
  2. Anecdote A is presented that is an exception to or goes against general claim C.
  3. Conclusion: General claim C is rejected.

 

People often fall victim to this fallacy because stories and anecdotes have more psychological influence than statistical data. This leads people to infer that what is true in an anecdote must be true of the whole population or that an anecdote justifies rejecting statistical evidence. Not surprisingly, people usually accept this fallacy because they prefer that what is true in the anecdote be true in general. For example, if one game journalist is critical of a game because it has sexist content, then one might generate outrage by claiming that all game journalists are attacking all games for sexist content.

A person can also combine rhetorical tools and fallacies. For example, an outrage merchant could use hyperbole to create a straw man of an author who wrote a piece about whether video game characters should be more diverse and less stereotypical. The straw man could be something like this author wants to eliminate white men from video games and replace them with women and minorities. This straw man could then be used in the fallacy of Anecdotal Evidence to “support” the claim that “the left” wants to eliminate white men from video games and replace them with women and minorities.

The defense against Hasty Generalization and Anecdotal Evidence is to check to see if the sample size warrants the conclusion being drawn. One way that people try to protect their claims from such scrutiny is to use an anonymous enemy. This is done by not identifying their sample’s members but referring to a vague group such as “those people”, “the left”, “SJWs”, “soy boys”, “the woke mob”, or whatever. If pressed for specific examples that can be checked, a common tactic is to refer to someone who has been targeted by a straw man fallacy and just use Anecdotal Evidence again. Another common “defense” is to respond with anger and simply insist that there are many examples, while never providing them. Another tactic used here is Headlining.

In this context, Headlining occurs when someone looks at the headline of an article and then speculates or lies about the content. These misused headlines are often used as “evidence”, especially to “support” straw man claims. For example, an article might be entitled “Diversity and Inclusion in Video Games: A Noble Goal.” The article could be a reasoned and balanced piece on the merits and cons of diversity and inclusion in video games. But the person who “headlines” it (perhaps by linking to it in a video or including just a screen shot) could say that the piece is a hateful screed about eliminating white men from video games. This can be effective for the same reason that the standard Straw Man is effective; few people will bother to read the article. Those who already feel the outrage will almost certainly not bother to check; they will simply assume the content is as claimed (or perhaps not care).

There are many other ways to create fictional outrage at fiction, but I hope this is useful in increasing your defense against such tactics.

During the last pandemic, Americans who chose to forgo vaccination were hard hit by COVID. In response, some self-medicated with ivermectin. While this drug is best known as a horse de-wormer, it is also used to treat humans for a variety of conditions and many medications are used to treat conditions they were not originally intended to treat. Viagra is a famous example of this. As such, the idea of re-purposing a medication is not itself foolish. But there are obvious problems with taking ivermectin to treat COVID. The most obvious one is that there is not a good reason to believe that the drug is effective; people would be better off seeking established treatment. Another problem is the matter of dosing as the drug can have serious side-effects even at the correct dosage. Since I am not a medical doctor, my main concern is not with the medical aspects of the drug, but with epistemology. That is, I am interested in why people believed they should take the drug when there is credible evidence it would work. Though the analysis will focus on ivermectin, the same mechanisms work broadly in belief formation.

Those who were most likely to use the drug were people in areas hit hard by COVID and subject to anti-vaccine and anti-mask messages from politicians and pundits. These two factors are related: when people do not get vaccinated and do not take precautions against infection, then they are more likely to get infected. This is why there was such a clear correlation between COVID infection rates and the level of Trump support in an area. Republican political thought embraces authoritarianism and rejects of expertise. Conservatives also want to “own the libs” by rejecting their beliefs and making liberals mad. Many liberals wanted people to get vaccinated and wear masks, so “owning the libs” put a person at greater risk for COVID. Once a person got infected, they needed treatment. But why did they chose ivermectin over proven methods? This seems to be the result of how the right’s base forms their beliefs.

The right’s base seems especially vulnerable to grifters and thus inclined to believe what grifters tell them. This is not because they are less intelligent or less capable than liberals; rather it seems to result from two main factors. The first is that the American right tends to be more authoritarian and thus more inclined to believe when an authority figure tells them to believe. The second is that the American right has long waged war on critical thinking and expertise. Hence people on the right are less inclined to use critical thinking tools effectively in certain contexts and are likely to dismiss experts who they do not regard as trusted authority figures.

While ivermectin was studied scientifically, there is currently no evidence that it can effectively treat COVID. But a small and growing industry arose for providing people with unproven or discredited treatments for COVID. While some might be well-intentioned, much of it is grifting at the expense of those who have been systematically misled. As such, people believe ivermectin can help them because authority figures have told them they should believe it. But, of course, there is the question of why ivermectin was chosen.

One likely reason is that ivermectin has been shown to impede the replication of the virus. Someone who is misled by wishful thinking would probably not consider the matter further; but it is important to note that this test was conducted in the laboratory using high concentrations of the drug that probably exceeded what a human could safely use. To use an analogy, this is like saying that fire is effective in killing the virus. While this is true, it does not make it an effective treatment in humans. As such, there is a bit of truth to the claim that ivermectin can affect the virus. For some reason, certain people seem to consistently reason poorly in such contexts; I am inclined to chalk this up to wishful thinking.

There is also the fact that a single, unpublished paper influenced some countries to include the drug in their treatment guidelines. However, this paper was never published because the method used to gather the data is both irregular and unreliable. The company that gathered the data, Surgisphere, is already notorious for its role in scandals involving hydroxychloroquine studies. People seem to tend to believe the first thing they hear about something, especially if they want it to be true, hence this discredited paper held considerable influence. This is like the case in which those who think vaccines are linked to autism still believe in a long discredited study by a discredited doctor.

One might attempt to respond to this by arguing that there are other papers showing the effectiveness of ivermectin. While this would be a reasonable response if these papers were based on good data, they are not. As has been shown, they suffer from serious errors. But, once again, this does not seem to matter. People such as Preston Smiles, Sidney Powell and Joe Rogan promoted the drug and, of course, Fox News personalities praised it. It was hydroxychloroquine 2.0. This takes us back to the appeal to authoritarianism fallacy: people believed because authority figures told them to believe. There is also a fallacious appeal to authority in effect. For example, Joe Rogan is a talk show host and not a doctor; yet people believe him because he is a celebrity.

People might also be motivated to accept the “evidence” of bad data and poor methods because doing so can feel rebellious. By rejecting the methodology of the experts, they can see themselves as making up their own minds…by accepting what politicians and celebrities tell them. There might also haven been a conspiracy theory element at work as well; the idea that “they” do not want people to know about ivermectin (or whatever) and hence they want to believe it works.

Ivermectin became another front in the culture war. It must be said that the left contributed to the fight by mocking those who used the drug. But when it became a political battle, the base doubled down and defended it, despite a lack of evidence. That is, they professed to believe because doing so is the stance of their tribe.

There were efforts to conduct clinical trials of the drug, but these were bizarrely been met with hostility and threats from ivermectin proponents. On the positive side, there will be some data available from the people self-medicating. Unfortunately, it will not be very good data because it will mostly be a collection of self-reported anecdotes. Once again, the culture war of the right hurt people. Although, as always, some profited.

From the standpoint of reliably forming true beliefs, this approach is the opposite of what a person should take.  Believing medical claims based on political authorities, grifters and celebrities is not a reliable way to have true beliefs. Accepting flawed studies as evidence is, by definition, a bad idea from the standpoint of believing true things. But these belief forming mechanisms do have advantages.

Politicians, celebrities, and grifters obviously benefit from their base forming beliefs this way. Those who form the beliefs also get something out of it; they can feel the pleasure of expressing their loyalty, the reassurance of wishful thinking, the warm glow of unity with their tribe, and the hot fire of angering the other tribe. And in the end, isn’t that all that really matters to some people?

In a clever bit of rhetoric, people who opposed mask and vaccine mandates during the last pandemic used pro-choice terms. For example, a person opposed to getting vaccinated might say “my body, my choice.” This phrase is, of course, a standard part of pro-choice language. While some who did this were no doubt engaged in bad faith rhetoric or trolling, the analogy between abortion rights and the right to refuse vaccination is worth considering.

An argument by analogy will typically have two premises and a conclusion. The first premise establishes the analogy by showing that the things (X and Y) in question are similar in certain respects (properties P, Q, R, etc.).  The second premise establishes that X has an additional quality, Z. The conclusion asserts that Y has property or feature Z as well. The form of the argument looks like this:

 

           Premise 1: X and Y have properties P, Q, R.

           Premise 2: X has property Z.

           Conclusion: Y has property Z.

 

X and Y are variables that stand for whatever is being compared, such as chimpanzees and humans or apples and oranges. P, Q, R, and are also variables, but they stand for properties or features that X and Y are known to possess, such as having a heart. Z is also a variable, and it stands for the property or feature that X is known to possess. The use of P, Q, and R is just for the sake of illustration-the things being compared might have more properties in common.

One simplified way to present the anti-vaccine (or pro-vaccine choice) analogy is as follows:

 

Premise 1: The right to choose an abortion is analogous to the right to choose to not be vaccinated.

           Premise 2: The right to choose an abortion is supported by the left.

           Conclusion: The right to choose to not be vaccinated should also be supported by the left.

 

While this analogy seems appealing to many anti-mask mandate folks, a key issue is whether it is a strong argument. The strength of an analogical argument depends on three factors. To the degree that an analogical argument meets these standards it is a strong argument.

First, the more properties X and Y have in common, the better the argument. This standard is based on the notion that the more two things are alike in other ways, the more likely it is that they will be alike in some other way. Second, the more relevant the shared properties are to property Z, the stronger the argument. A specific property, for example P, is relevant to property Z if the presence or absence of P affects the likelihood that Z will be present. Third, it must be determined whether X and Y have relevant dissimilarities as well as similarities. The more dissimilarities and the more relevant they are, the weaker the argument. So, is the analogy between the restrictive voter laws and mask mandates strong? To avoid begging the question by making a straw man, I will endeavor to make the best analogy I can—within the limits of truth.

The right to choose an abortion is often based on a principle of bodily autonomy; often expressed as “my body, my choice.” For the pro-choice, this principle warrants a person’s choice to have an abortion: it is their body, so it is their choice. While there is debate over the moral status of the aborted entity, an entity which might (or might not) be a person is killed by abortion. As such, the principle of bodily autonomy allows a person to kill another entity.

The right to forgo vaccination on the principle of bodily autonomy would seem to work in a similar manner. For those who are pro-choice about vaccines, this principle warrants a person’s choice to forgo vaccination: it is their body, so it is their choice. So far, so good. But, as with abortion, the choice does not just affect the person making the choice.

A person who forgoes vaccination willingly puts themselves and others in avoidable risk of infection and death. But, if a person can justly abort another entity as a matter of their choice, then one could infer that a person could thus put others at risk of illness and death as a matter of choice. But does the comparison hold here? I contend that because of critical differences, it does not.

First, while an abortion kills an entity there is good faith moral debate about whether the entity is a person. In contrast, a person who did not get vaccinated during the pandemic put those who are indisputably people at risk and, in many cases, without their choice or consent. One can, of course, argue that the aborted entity is a person and start up the anti-abortion debate. But this would have an interesting consequence.

If it is argued that the aborted entity is a person (or otherwise has sufficient moral status) and thus its right to life overrides the person’s right to bodily autonomy, then the same reasoning would apply to the pro-vaccine choice argument. Their bodily autonomy does not give them the right to put others at risk. As such, a person who argues in good faith that being pro-choice about abortions is like being pro-choice about vaccines must be for both or opposed to both. So, anti-abortion folks can only use the pro-choice bodily autonomy argument for vaccine choice in bad faith (or from confusion). In contrast, a pro-choice person need not be pro-vaccine choice. They can accept that the aborted entity is not a person or has a lower moral status than the person while accepting the obvious fact that the people who were harmed by the unvaccinated are people.

Second, an abortion kills a single entity while forgoing vaccination during pandemic puts everyone the person contacts at risk of illness and even death. Since those at risk are indisputably people, forgoing vaccination in a pandemic is far worse than an abortion. One can, of course, get into a debate about assessing harm in terms of probabilities and other considerations. For example, a person who forgoes vaccination might not infect anyone and if they do, no one they infect might get ill, and if they do get ill, then they might not die. In contrast, an abortion always kills the aborted entity. This becomes a debate about the right to harm other entities and assessing harm. But, if someone argues that a person does not have the right to harm another entity based on bodily autonomy, then this would apply to both abortion and vaccination: there should be no choice in either case.

Third, there is a difference in the cost for not being able to make the choice. If a person cannot choose an abortion, they can face great economic and social hardships. Our society is unkind to women, and it is especially unkind to mothers who lack support and resources. In contrast, the COVID vaccines are incredibly safe.  Much safer than giving birth in the United States. Once again, if someone accepts the pro-vaccine choice reasoning, then they would also need to accept the pro-choice reasoning in the context of abortion.

As such, the attempt to use pro-choice language and draw an analogy between reproductive rights and anti-vaccine rights fails logically. However, some might see it as having rhetorical value or as a bit of fun in trolling the libs with their own slogans.

 

Because of the psychological power of rhetoric, words do matter. Words have both a denotation (the meaning) and a connotation (the emotions and associations invoked). Words that have the same denotation can have very different connotations. For example, “police officer” and “pig” (as slang) have the same denotation but different connotations. As would be expected, the ongoing fight over vaccines involves rhetoric. One interesting example of this was presented by Ben Irvine: “People who don’t want the vaccine aren’t “refusing” it. You don’t say a person is “refusing” to take anti-depressants. Or “refusing” to get married. You can decline without refusing. You decide what’s best for you. Refuse is a manipulative term, loaded with unfair moral pressure.”

As Irvine indicates, while “refuse” and “decline” have similar meanings, they differ in rhetorical loading. As Irvine sees it, “refuse” is negatively loaded with “unfair moral pressure.” Presumably “decline” lacks this quality.  So, what is the difference between them?

In a moral context, “refuse” implies active rejection, and context determines whether its connotation is negative or positive. While not always the case, “refuse” sometimes implies that there is an expectation to accept rather than reject. As would be expected, if what is being refused is seen as morally wrong, then using “refuse” suggests something positive. For example, “Sergeant Jane Doe refused to obey an illegal order” suggests something positive, that Doe actively rejected the order and that there is an expectation that soldiers will obey. Interestingly, people who believe that requiring vaccinations is morally wrong should embrace the language of refusal as refusing something you think is wrong is the right thing to do. But “refuse” can also be negative.

As Irvine noted, to say those who choose not to get vaccinated are refusing the vaccine asserts they actively reject something rightfully expected of them. To illustrate, to say “Jane Doe refused to stop drinking and smoking while pregnant” suggests Doe should be condemned: there is a moral expectation that Doe should not put her unborn child at risk. “Decline” works differently.

In general, “decline” means to pass on something. It seems more passive, more polite, and less forceful than “refuse.” There is also (usually) no implied expectation of acceptance. In a moral context, there is usually the assumption that there is no (or little) moral weight involved. To illustrate, “when offered dessert by the waiter, Joe declined” indicates that Joe passed on dessert and was under no obligation or expectation to order it. It would be odd to say that Joe refused the dessert, unless he was particularly forceful in his rejection or was for some reason expected to eat it. In contrast, it would make sense to say, “Joe refused to pay for the dessert he did not order or receive and demanded it be removed from his bill.” This is because Joe would be actively rejecting paying and, of course, there is a general expectation that one will pay the bill. Obviously, I am not claiming to be the word police: people can and do use “decline” as they would use “refuse” and vice versa; I am just noting that Irvine has made a reasonable distinction between how we often use these words rhetorically. But is he right?

On the one hand, he seems correct: when people talk about vaccine refusal, they are likely condemning the decision. Their moral expectation is that people should get vaccinated and hence to not accept it would be a refusal (like refusing to stop drinking while pregnant) rather than declining it (like a slice of pie). But his point seems to be that this is wrong: people should not use “refuse” because it is “unfair moral manipulation.” He seems to suggest we should use “decline” instead. If true, then he would be assuming that there is not a legitimate moral expectation for people get vaccinated and thus it is acceptable to decide to remain unvaccinated. For those who disagree with his position, this might seem to be a rhetorical trick.

As discussed above, “decline” implies that the rejection is more passive, less forceful, and of something for which there is no or little expectation of acceptance. To accept that people are declining rather than refusing the vaccine would be to (probably) agree that they are doing nothing wrong or not failing in a moral obligation. That is, they are not refusing to protect others, they are merely declining a shot. This, some might contend, would trivialize their decision: declining to be vaccinated is like declining a slice of pie after dinner and not like refusing to stop drinking while pregnant.  This seems a reasonable point: to use “decline” would be to use a term that lacks moral pressure and thus assumes that those who do not get vaccinated are acting morally (or at least not acting wrongly).

While I think people should get vaccinated, discussing the moral issue without begging the question requires using neutral language: language that neither assumes nor refuses condemnation. As such, when discussing the moral issue of whether people should get vaccinated, we should not use “refuse” or “decline” but should use a neutral description such as “decide to not get vaccinated.” Then the ethics of the decision can be debated. It might turn out, as I believe, that there is a moral obligation to get vaccinated. In which case, the use of “refuse” would be warranted. But it might be the case that there is no such obligation, then the use of “decline” would be warranted.

In the last pandemic Americans were caught up in a political battle over masks. Those who opposed mask mandates tended to be on the right; those who accepted mask mandates (and wearing masks) tended to be on the left. One interesting approach to the mask debate by some on the right was to draw an analogy between the mask mandate and the restrictive voting laws that the Republicans have passed. The gist is that if the left opposed the voting laws, then they should have opposed mask mandates. Before getting into the details of the argument, let us look at the general form of the analogical argument.

An analogy will typically have two premises and a conclusion. The first premise establishes the analogy by showing that the things (X and Y) in question are similar in certain respects (properties P, Q, R, etc.).  The second premise establishes that X has an additional quality, Z. The conclusion asserts that Y has property or feature Z as well. The form of the argument looks like this:

 

           Premise 1: X and Y have properties P, Q, R.

           Premise 2: X has property Z.

           Conclusion: Y has property Z.

 

X and Y are variables that stand for whatever is being compared, such as chimpanzees and humans or apples and oranges. P, Q, R, and are also variables, but they stand for properties or features that X and Y are known to possess, such as having a heart. Z is also a variable, and it stands for the property or feature that X is known to possess. The use of P, Q, and R is just for the sake of illustration-the things being compared might have more properties in common.

One simplified way to present the anti-mask mandate analogy is as follows:

 

Premise 1: Mask mandates and restrictive voting laws are similar in many ways.

           Premise 2: Restrictive voting laws are opposed by the left.

           Conclusion: Mask mandates should also be opposed by the left.

 

While this analogy seems appealing to many anti-mask mandate folks, we must see if it is a strong argument. The strength of an analogical argument depends on three factors. To the extent that an analogical argument meets these standards it is a strong argument.

First, the more properties X and Y have in common, the better the argument. This standard is based on the notion that the more two things are alike in other ways, the more likely it is that they will be alike in some other way. Second, the more relevant the shared properties are to property Z, the stronger the argument. A specific property, for example P, is relevant to property Z if the presence or absence of P affects the likelihood that Z will be present. Third, it must be determined whether X and Y have relevant dissimilarities as well as similarities. The more dissimilarities and the more relevant they are, the weaker the argument. So, is the analogy between the restrictive voter laws and mask mandates strong? To avoid begging the question by making a straw man, I will endeavor to make the best analogy I can—within the limits of truth.

On the face of it, both the mask mandate and the restrictive voting laws are aimed at preventing harm. In the case of the mask mandate, the coercive power of the state was to be used to protect people from the pandemic. In the case of the restrictive voting laws, the coercive power of the state was supposed to protect people from voter fraud. This seems an essential and compelling similarity if the state has the right to use its coercive power to protect citizens from harm. As such, if the use of mask mandates was warranted to protect people from the danger of COVID, then the use of restrictive voting laws would be warranted to protect people from the danger of voter fraud. However, further consideration reveals that the analogy fails.

One critical relevant difference is that the number of COVID cases (and deaths) in the United States is huge, while the number of cases of voter (or election) fraud is vanishingly small. The last pandemic killed 1,193,165 people in the United Stated.  In contrast, there were about 16 charged cases of voter fraud in the 2020 Presidential election. In some cases, these charges stem from absurd efforts, such as a person who voted and asked if he could vote for his son. When told he could not, he returned and attempted to impersonate his son. . One could attempt to address this by providing evidence that fraud is widespread and pervasive enough to warrant the comparison to COVID. Alternatively, one could argue that few people actually died of COVID, so the number is small enough to warrant the comparison to voter fraud. But there is no evidence for either: COVID killed almost 2 million people in the United States and voter fraud barely exists.

The level of risk is also important in determining if the use of coercive power of the state is warranted. If an illness arose that only infected 16 people, then it would be absurd for the state to use its power to impose mask mandates. The level of threat would not warrant such an imposition. Naturally, if there were millions of cases of voter fraud, then the state would be warranted in acting as that would be a serious threat.

Another important difference is the severity of the harm. COVID killed almost 2 million people in the United States (and is still killing people). Voter fraud had no meaningful impact on the 2020 election and all efforts on the part of Trump and his supporters have failed repeatedly to reveal evidence to the contrary. Mike Lindell, the My Pillow Guy, exemplifies the bizarre absurdity of the conspiracy theory about voter/election fraud. One could attempt to address this by providing evidence that voter/election fraud is harmful enough to warrant the comparison to COVID. Alternatively, one could argue that the danger of COVID was grossly exaggerated and thus warrant the comparison to voter fraud. But there is no evidence for either: COVID killed millions and the 16 charged cases of voter fraud had no effect on the outcome of the election.

Another relevant difference is the effectiveness of the measures. Justifying the use of the coercive power of the state requires showing that this use is effective in addressing the harm. To compel people and produce no benefit would be a failure on the part of the state. While masks were not magical armor against COVID, they do provide a meaningful level of protection when used correctly. In contrast, the restrictive laws the Republicans passed do not seem to have any relevance to preventing fraud (which barely exists). For example, even Lindsey Graham admitted that the law preventing voters from receiving food and water while waiting in line does not make ‘a whole lot of sense.’ One could attempt to address this by providing evidence that the laws are effective at preventing fraud and so warrant the comparison to mask mandates. Alternatively, one could argue that the effectiveness of masks was grossly exaggerated and thus warrant the comparison. But there is no evidence for either: masks seemed moderately effective while the voter restrictions were not. Given this evaluation, the analogy is weak. Interestingly, the analogy would be a problem for people who are anti-mandate but pro voter restriction.

There are other relevant differences as well, such as voting being a foundational right that should be protected rather than restricted and being allowed to freely infect people during a pandemic is not a right and masks were barely an inconvenience.

If we do accept that mask mandates and voter restriction laws are analogous and it is assumed that the laws are warranted because they are aimed at addressing a harm that barely exists, then it would follow that mask-mandates were justified. After all, the mandates were aimed at addressing a disease that killed almost two million Americans. Alternatively, if one accepts that the mask mandate is unwarranted despite the harms of illness and death, then it would follow (by analogy) that the restrictive voting laws are utterly unwarranted since they impose great restrictions to (allegedly) address a harm that barely exists. But this assessment will have little impact: the comparison being made seemed to be mostly made in bad faith for rhetorical purposes rather than being a well-considered argument based on a theory of when the state should coerce its citizens. 

While Republican politicians in my adopted state of Florida profess to love freedom, they have been busy passing laws to restrict freedom. During the last pandemic Governor DeSantis opposed mask mandates and vaccine passports on the professed grounds of fighting “medical authoritarianism.” He also engaged in the usual Republican attacks on cancel culture, claiming to be a supporter of free speech. However, the Governor and the Republican dominated state legislature banned ‘critical race theory’ from public schools, mandated a survey of the political beliefs of faculty and students, and engaged in book banning. On the face of it, the freedom loving Republicans appear to be waging war on freedom. One could spend hours presenting examples of the apparent inconsistencies between Republican value claims and their actions, but my focus here is on value vagueness.

In my ethics class, I teach a section on moral methods which are argument templates for ethical reasoning. One method, which is useful beyond ethics, is Logical Consistency. Two claims are logically consistent with each other when both can be true at the same time. For example, the claim “restricting freedom is sometimes acceptable” is consistent with the claim “restricting freedom is sometimes unacceptable” since they can both be true.  Two claims are inconsistent when both cannot be true at the same time (but both could be false). For example, the claim “people should be free from government control” would seem to be inconsistent with the claim “the government should ban the teaching of critical race theory.”  This is because while these claims cannot both be true at the same time, they could both be false.

If someone makes inconsistent claims, then at least one of their claims must be false. The fact that two (or more) claims are inconsistent does not, however, show which is false. But you can know that a set of claims contains inconsistent claims without knowing which ones are false. Since logically inconsistent claims cannot be true at the same time, it is irrational to accept such claims when their inconsistency is known. But there is a way to respond, rationally, to a seemingly reasonable charge of inconsistency.

In some cases, it is possible to respond to the charge of inconsistency by dissolving the inconsistency. This can be done by showing that the inconsistency is merely apparent. This is achieved by arguing that the claims are consistent despite appearing inconsistent.

In the case of value claims, such as claims about political or moral matters, an inconsistency can seem to occur because of how the person making the charge defines a term or phrase. Their definition can be different from that used by the person making the claim. In some cases, this difference can be the result of bad faith, but people can disagree about definitions in good faith.  The concept of freedom is an excellent example of this: people have different definitions of this concept, and the definition is relevant to sorting out a charge of inconsistency about freedom.

Those who read my work know that I often accuse Republicans of being inconsistent. But they could be defended by showing that under their conception of freedom, they are consistent. For example, the same Republicans who rage against “cancel culture” and lost their minds over Dr. Seuss and Mr. Potato Head are the same people who passed laws cancelling the teaching of (what they claim is) critical race theory. They are also the people who professed outrage when an athlete protested police violence during the national anthem. On the face of it, they seem to engage in inconsistent claims: people should be free to express their views, but people should be forbidden from teaching critical race theory and condemned for protesting police violence during the national anthem.  But there is an easy way to respond to this charge in a sensible manner.

The concept of freedom is vague and saying one supports freedom is to make a vague claim. Outside of a philosophical analysis of “freedom” this is a normal and sensible thing to do: if you spent the time precisely defining your concept of freedom during a speech or conversation, your audience would fall asleep if they could not flee. When a person is pressed on their view, then that is the time to be more precise about their concept. For example, I also say that I am for freedom of expression. But if I were asked if I thought Ted Cruz should be free to shout death threats at Mike Pence, I would say that he should not do that. If someone attacked me for this seeming inconsistency, I would contend that my account of freedom of expression does not make freedom absolute and there are limits to freedom. I would, as always, use the stock argument about the role of harm in limiting freedoms and point out Hobbes’ realization that a right to everything amounts to a right to nothing.

Republicans can do the same and argue that while people should be free to decline masks and vaccinations during a pandemic, they should not be free to discuss critical race theory in class or protest police violence during the national anthem. They would, however, need to show how these are consistent under their theory of freedom. On the face of it, this would be difficult. Take, for example, the usual use of the principle of harm: while this allows me to be against Cruz making death threats against Mike Pence, it would not seem to warrant the freedom to go unvaccinated during a pandemic. Yet it would seem to allow people to teach critical race theory and protest. So, they would need some other means of justifying the different applications. A plausible approach is to use the principle of relevant difference.

If there are relevant differences between the cases, then this warrants a difference in application of the concept of freedom. Common differences include who is taking the action, that nature of the action, and the consequences of the action. In my Cruz example, above, I can appeal to a relevant difference in terms of the harmful consequences of allowing people to make such threats. Republicans could contend that who is acting is relevant; when Republicans are accused of being racist and sexist, they could see freedom as something that belongs to white men. They could also focus on the action: kneeling in protest is different from going without a mask during a pandemic (the difference could be that one energizes their base and the other enrages their base). The challenge is showing how this is a relevant difference that warrants the difference in freedom.

It is also worth noting that while value concepts are vague (until clarified), this vagueness can be exploited for rhetorical purposes. The general strategy is to use a value term (or phrase) vaguely to make the target audience feel positive (or negative). Since audience members will generally use their own definition for a concept, this can be very effective: the audience will often assume that they all have the same view of the concept.

 Value concepts that are seen as positive can be very effective in this role. “Freedom” is very popular in the United States, so politicians talk endlessly about it. It is a vague concept, so it can be applied broadly and inconsistently. So, for example, Republicans in Florida talked about fighting mask mandates because they love freedom. They also pass laws restricting freedoms, counting on the fact that “freedom” is vague. The defense against being swayed by this rhetoric is to determine what the concept really seems to mean (if anything) to the person using it. In the case of Republicans in Florida, their conception of freedom has very strict limitations that seem to be defined by such factors as race, class, gender and religion. But, of course, this need not be a problem for them: if their base has a similar conception, they can seem to be speaking virtuously about freedom while acting against freedom.

, and they have cast the woke elite as the generals of this opposing force. “Wokeness”, like “cancel culture” and “critical race theory”, is ill-defined and used as a vague catch-all for things the right does not like. In large part, the war on wokeness has been manufactured by the right’s elite. In part, the war arises from grievances of the base. There are even some non-imaginary conflicts in this war —at least on the part of the Americans that can be seen as blue-collar workers. I will be focusing on this and will try to define the groups and harms as clearly and honestly as possible.

Put roughly, the United States has two broad categories of blue-collar workers. There are the traditional blue-collar workers, such as those in manufacturing, employees of plumbing businesses, truck drivers and so on. There are also the blue-collar elites; they own small businesses, are successful self-employed electricians, work as middle managers at blue-collar industries and so on. As with any class, there are degrees of each. For example, a successful self-employed plumber could be considered a blue-collar elite, but would be lower on the economic class structure than someone who owns and operates a profitable plumbing company they built up from their original one-person business. Someone who simply bought a plumbing company with their inheritance would most likely be a white-collar elite.

The woke, broadly speaking, could be seen as folks on the left who embrace liberal values. While this aspect of the definition is contentious, the woke can be seen as focusing mostly on social issues relating to such factors as race and sexuality and being less (or not at all) concerned about general economic issues.

The woke can be seen as breaking away from concerns about the lower economic classes in general and focusing on specific oppressed groups. The woke elite are what David Brooks calls the Bobos; this is the ruling class of the left that has largely abandoned the working class left of the past. There are, of course, degrees in these classes. A poor college student working at McDonalds for tuition money who blogs and tweets in support of transgender rights could be seen as woke, but not elite. Stephen Colbert can be seen as an example of a top tier woke elite. As noted above, there is the problem of what counts as being in the woke class and the right’s “definition” is so vague it is useless in a rigorous discussion. To be fair, they do not intend this usage: “woke” is a political term and is kept intentionally vague. The right calls those concerned with broad economic issues “socialists”, “communists” and “Marxists.” But they also apply these labels to mainstream corporate Democrats, such as former VP Harris.

As would be expected, these terms are usually not used rigorously, correctly, or consistently. A person could be condemned as being “woke” for allegedly ignoring the plight of workers while simultaneously being blasted for being a “socialist” who supports unions, better benefits, and higher wages. But back to the woke elite and blue-collar folks.

As noted above, the elite of the right blast the woke elite for abandoning the blue collars in favor of a woke ideology. The blue-collar workers believe, correctly, that their situation has gotten worse, especially relative to their parents and grandparents. The blue-collar elites, though well off economically, see themselves as victims: they are excluded, mocked, or simply ignored by the woke elite. They are not wrong about this. I will begin with the workers.

Trump and his fellows have appealed to the perception of white, blue-collar workers that the woke elites have abandoned them in favor of woke ideology. There are also those who accept racist explanations for their woes. For example, there is the idea that minorities are stealing jobs from white workers (with the aid of the woke elites). These workers are not wrong that they are being hurt, but their explanations tend to be mistaken. So, let us look at the woke elite and race.

The woke elite and right elite are both fighting to stay at the top of the hierarchy, but they do differ in some of their methods.  But there are similarities. The woke elite, by definition, profess to be anti-racist (or at least not racist). But they generally benefit from racism in two ways. First, the white woke elite benefited from past racism and benefit from current racism in the usual ways, though they profess to condemn these things. Second, racism gives them a battleground with their opposing elite on the right. The elite of the right have, for the most part, use racism as a tool to maintain the social hierarchy that benefits them. For example, they use racism to divide the working class against each other. The woke left elite can be sincere in this fight, but they also benefit from keeping the fight focused on such matters as race to distract from concerns about class, since they are part of the upper classes.

Both the work elite and right elite are careful to avoid engaging each other issues of economic class; this is because they largely agree on the economic class structure (them on the top, everyone else beneath them) and do not want to disrupt that. A key difference, as noted above, is race. For the right, race is both a tool to maintain the existing hierarchy and a key part of the hierarchy. While the woke elite benefit from racism, they are like elites prior to the construction of race: their hierarchy is not built on race, and racism is not one of their tools. While professing a kinder, gentler view of economics, they do all they can to lock themselves in their position and thus lock out others. One example is education: the woke elites jealously protect their control over who has access to elite universities. The infamous college admission scandal laid bare how the elites attempt to control this access.

A second example is the concentration of the woke elite in a few cities. This has hyper concentrated wealth with a range of negative effects. This includes harm to the cities that would seem to benefit from this, such as a skyrocketing cost of living. A third example, which is what the right (ironically) focuses on is that the woke elite have transformed the Democrats from a party with some meaningful commitment to workers into a party that has abandoned them in many ways. It has also had a similar impact on the American left in general. There are, of course, some who have remained strongly committed to workers, such as Bernie Sanders. But the blue-collar workers are right to recognize the woke elite as their enemies, but not for the reasons the right gives. It is not the anti-racism of the woke that hurts workers, but their commitment to maintaining the economic social order. The woke elite are committed to maintaining the existing social order, they just do not use racism as a tool in doing so because they have other tools that work very well. And, if they embraced racism, they would just be elites of the right.

The right is correct to call out the woke elites for abandoning the workers, but they only offer lies, racism, sexism, and no real help. They have no desire to meaningfully improve conditions for the workers, the “woke” Bezos and anti-woke Ted Cruz are both vehemently anti-worker. The difference is that Cruz sees racism as a critical tool and Bezos (probably) does not since he has other tools that keep him on top. As such, blue collar workers need a third party, one that will fight for them and not for the woke elite or the right elite.

When it comes to pollution, people respond with a cry of NIMBY and let loose the dogs of influence. This shows that everyone gets what is obviously true: pollution is unsightly, unpleasant, and unhealthy. Air pollution alone is deadly, killing millions of us each year. It is also obviously true that our civilizations flood our home with pollution, and we must decide where this pollution goes.

As one would expect, the cost of pollution is regularly shifted onto those with less influence. The wealthy and politically influential use this power to ensure that pollution is concentrated in places where the poor and uninfluential live. To illustrate, we do not see incinerators or coal burning power plants constructed near the residences of Nancy Pelosi, Ted Cruz, Bill Gates, or Oprah.

In the United States (and elsewhere) race is also a factor: pollution is concentrated along racial lines, even accounting for disparities of income. To illustrate, highways tend to run through minority neighborhoods and industrial plants tend to be located near minority residences. While some might rush to point out that white Americans are also subject to horrific levels of pollution, this is hardly the devasting riposte that one might think it is. After all, pollution is distributed disproportionally to wealth and there are many poor white people in America. Also, pointing out that white people are also heavily exposed to pollution only shows how widespread the problem is. As with most harms in America, pollution hurts the poor, the children, and minorities the most.

In some cases, sources of pollution are intentionally inflicted on the poor and minorities.  In other cases, the same result arises without conscious intention. To illustrate, if a company proposed to build a refinery near a wealthy white neighborhood, the residents would use their influence to block it. The company would keep trying to find a location and would, of course, end up somewhere where the inhabitants lacked the power to prevent it from being built in their backyard. This would be a poorer area that is also likely also to have a minority population. It can be argued that the wealthy white folks have no desire to inflict pollution on these poor people, it just happens because of the disparity in power. After all, that refinery must go somewhere, just not in their backyard. While the folks who make the decisions probably care little about ethical theory, it can and should be applied to this decision making, be it direct or indirect.

One obvious approach to such large-scale moral decision making is to use a form of utilitarianism: the pollution should be located where it does the least harm to those who matter morally. Deciding who (and what) matters and how much they matter involves sorting out the scope of morality. There is also the problem of sorting out the calculation of value: what is the measure of the good and the evil? There are many ways to address matters of scope and value, which can lead to good faith moral debate. Interestingly, a solid argument can be made for the common practice of dumping the most pollution on those with the least power.

As John Kenneth Galbraith said, “The modern conservative is engaged in one of man’s oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness.” Utilitarianism provides an easy way to do just that by adjusting the scope of morality. As noted above, determining the scope of morality is a matter of determining who has moral worth and to what degree they have it. One extreme example is ethical egoism. On this consequentialist view,  each person limits the scope of morality to themselves. Ayn Rand is a good example of an ethical egoist. On her view, everyone should be selfish and do what maximizes their self-interest. In terms of the scope of morality, the ethical egoist sees themself as the only one with moral worth. The opposing view is altruism. This is the view that at least some other people count morally.

An ethical egoist can easily provide a moral justification for shifting the cost of pollution onto others: only they count, so the right thing to do is to ensure that someone else is exposed to pollution. Obviously enough, this view entails that everyone will be selfishly striving to push the pollution onto someone else and they are all morally right to do so. The matter would, from a practical standpoint, be settled by strength: the strong will do as they wish, the weaker will suffer as they must. This is likely to strike some as being fundamentally unethical or even an absence of ethics. But one can expand the scope of morality while still pushing pollution onto others.

One obvious approach is to argue that the people in the upper classes have more moral worth than those in the lower classes. How the scope is set can vary greatly. One might, for example, claim that only the elites have any moral worth at all. One could be more “generous” and grant all classes moral status, but have the moral status correspond to the class status. On this sort of view, the poor would have some moral worth, but they would matter far less morally than the elites. This seems to be a commonly held view: only the most heartless would claim that the poor have no value, but our civilizations treat the lower classes as having far less moral worth. They are generally less honest about this these days; but it is evident upon even a cursory examination of countries like the United States and China.

One can also bring race in as a factor in setting the scope of morality. The United States provides a clear example of this: while many racists would accept that people outside of their group have some moral worth, a racist regards their group as having greater moral worth than others. This allows an easy “justification” of shifting the harms of pollution onto minorities: for the racist, these people have less worth and thus it makes moral sense to have them suffer the harms.  There are utilitarians, such as J.S. Mill, who have a broader scope of morality, taking all humans and even much of “sentient creation” to count morally.

For those who consider all people to have moral worth, then shifting pollution onto the poor and onto minorities becomes more morally difficult. One could still make a case for doing so, but it would be harder than simply adjusting the scope of morality to devalue the poor and minorities.