Category: Economics

A basic moral challenge is sorting out how people should be treated. This is often formulated in terms of obligations to others, and the usual question is “what, if anything, do we owe other people?” While some would like to exclude economics from ethics, the burden of proof rests on those claiming the realm of money deserves exemption from ethics. While this could be done, it will be assumed that economic matters fall under morality. But there are many approaches to morality.

While I use virtue theory as my personal ethics, I find aspects of Kant’s ethical theory appealing, so let us see what Kant’s theory might entail for economic justice. In terms of how we should treat others, Kant takes as foundational that “rational nature exists as an end in itself.”

Kant supports his view by asserting that “a man necessarily conceives his own existence as such” and this applies to all rational beings. A rational being sees itself as being an end, rather than a thing to be used as a means to an end.  In my own case, I see myself as a person who is an end and not as a thing that exists to serve the ends of others. But some other people might see me differently.

Of course, the fact that I see myself as an end would not seem to require that I extend this to other rational beings (that is, other people). After all, I could see myself as an end and regard others as means to my ends—to be used for my profit as, for example, underpaid workers.

However, Kant claims that I must regard other rational beings as ends as well. The reason is straightforward and is based on an appeal to consistency: if I am an end rather than a means because I am a rational being, then consistency requires I accept that other rational beings are ends. After all, if being a rational being makes me an end, it would do the same for others. Naturally, it could be argued that there is a relevant difference between myself and other rational beings that would warrant me treating them as means and not as ends. People have, obviously enough, long endeavored to justify treating other people as things. Slavery in America provides an example of this, as do many modern economic practices. However, there seems to be no principled way to insist on my own status as an end while denying the same to other rational beings. Which, one might suspect, is why some people wish to claim that other people are not rational beings. Or are otherwise inferior in some way that makes them suitable as means.

From his view of rational nature, Kant derives his practical imperative: “so act as to treat humanity, whether in thine own person or in that of any other, in every case as an end withal, never as means only.” This imperative does not mean that I must never treat a person as a means—that is allowed, provided I do not treat the person as a means only. So, for example, I would be morally forbidden from using people as mere means of revenue. I would, however, not be forbidden from having someone ring up my purchases at the grocery store—provided I treated the person as a person and not a mere means. One obvious challenge is sorting out what it is to treat a person as an end as opposed to just a means to an end. Some cases are obvious, such as enslaving another person. Other cases are more complex, such as hiring a person as a worker.

Many economic relationships seem to clearly violate Kant’s imperative in that they treat people as mere means and not at all as ends. To use an obvious example, if an employer treats her employees merely as means to profit and does not treat them as ends in themselves, then she is acting immorally by Kant’s standard. After all, being an employee does not rob a person of personhood.

One obvious reply is to question my starting assumption, namely that economics is not exempt from ethics. It could be argued that the relationship between employer and employee is purely economic and only economic considerations matter. That is, the workers are to be regarded as means to profit and treated in accord with this—even if doing so means treating them as things rather than people. The challenge is to show that the economic realm grants a special exemption to ethics. Of course, if it does this, then the exemption would be a general one. So, for example, people who decided to take money from the rich at gunpoint would be exempt from ethics as well. After all, if everyone is a means in economics, then the rich are just as much a means as employees and if economic coercion against people is acceptable, then so too is coercion via firearms. As always, the challenge the rich face in ethics is justifying their economic misdeeds while simultaneously condemning similar actions by the poor.

Another reply is to contend that might makes right. That is, the employer has the power and owes nothing to the employees beyond what they can force him to provide. This would make economics like the state of nature—where, as Hobbes said, “profit is the measure of right.” Of course, this leads to the same problem as the previous reply: if economics is a matter of might making right, then workers have the same right to use might against employers and the poor to use it against the rich.

Pundits and politicians on the right consistently demonize the poor. For example, Fox News seems to delight in a narrative of the wicked poor destroying America. It is worth considering why the poor are demonized.

One ironic foundation for this is religion. While Jesus regards the poor as blessed and warns of the dangers of idolatry, there is a version of Christianity that sees poverty as a sign of damnation and wealth as an indicator of salvation. As some have pointed out, this view is a perversion of Christianity. Not surprisingly, some people have been criticized by pundits for heeding what Jesus said.

Another reason is that demonizing the poor allows pundits and politicians to redirect anger so that the have-less are angry at the have-nots, rather than those who have almost everything. This is classic scapegoating: the wicked poor are blamed for many of the woes besetting America. The irony is that the poor and powerless are cast as a threat to the rich and powerful.

The approach taken towards the poor follows a classic model used throughout history that involves presenting two distinct narratives about the target of hatred The first is to create a narrative which presents them as subhuman, wicked, inferior and defective. In the case of the poor, the narrative is that they are stupid, lazy, drug-users, criminals, frauds, mockers and so on. This narrative is used to create contempt and hatred to dehumanize them. This makes it much easier to get people to think it is morally permissible (even laudable) to treat the poor poorly.

The second narrative is to cast the poor as incredibly dangerous. While they have been cast as inferior by the first narrative, the second presents them as a dire threat. The narrative is that the wicked poor are destroying America by being “takers” from the “makers.” One obvious challenge is crafting a plausible narrative in which the poor and seemingly powerless can somehow destroy the rich and powerful. One solution has been to claim that another group, such as the Democrats or the Jews as being both very powerful (thus able to destroy America) yet someone in service to the poor.

On the face of it, a little reflection should expose the absurdity of this narrative. The poor are obviously poor and lack power. After all, if they had power, they would not remain poor. As such, the idea that the poor and powerless have the power to destroy America is absurd. True, the poor could rise up in arms and engage in class warfare in the literal sense of the term—but that is not likely to happen. While the idea that the poor are being served by a wicked group, such as the Democrats, is advanced to “solved” this problem, the wicked group, must also be cast as being inferior to the “true” Americans—yet also a powerful threat. This creates another absurdity that its adherents must ignore.

At this point, one might bring up “bread and circuses”—the idea that the poor destroyed the Roman Empire by forcing the rulers to provide them with bread and circuses until the empire fell apart.

There are two obvious replies to this. The first is that even if Rome was wrecked by spending on bread and circuses, it was the leaders who decided to use that approach to appease the masses. If this narrative were true, it entails that the wealthy and powerful decided to bankrupt the state to stay in power by appeasing the many. Second, the poor who wanted bread and circuses were a symptom rather than the disease. It was not so much that the poor were destroying the empire, it was that the destruction of the empire that was increasing the number of poor people.

The same could be said about the United States: while the income gap in the United States is extreme and poverty is high, it is not the poor that that are causing the decline of America. Rather, poverty is the result of the decline of the United States. As such, demonizing the poor and blaming them for the woes is like blaming the fever for the disease.

Ironically, demonizing and blaming the poor serves to distract people away from the real causes of our woes, such as the deranged financial system, systematic inequality, a rigged market and a political system that is beholden to the 1%. It is, however, a testament to the power of rhetoric that so many seem to accept the absurd idea that the poor and powerless are somehow the victimizers rather than the victims of the rich and powerful.

One political narrative is the tale of the poor defrauding government programs. The (alleged) grifter Donald Trump, for example, claims that the poor commit a lot of fraud.  Fox News consistently claims, usually without evidence, that government programs aimed to help the poor are exploited by the poor. In most cases, the “evidence” presented in support of such claims seems to be that they feel that there must be a lot of fraud. However, there is little inclination to look for supporting evidence—if they feel strongly enough that a claim is true, that is good enough for them.

The claim that such aid is fraught  with fraud is often used to argue that it should be cut or even eliminated.  The idea is that the poor are “takers” who are fraudulently living off the “makers.” While fraud is wrong, it is important to consider some key questions.

The first question is this: what is the actual percentage of fraud that occurs in such programs? While, as noted above, some claim fraud is rampant, the statistical data tells another story.  In the case of unemployment insurance, the rate of fraud is estimated to be less than 2%. This is lower than the rate of fraud in the private sector. In the case of welfare, fraud is sometimes reported at being 20%-40% at the state level. However, the “fraud” seems to mostly errors by bureaucrats rather than fraud committed by the recipients. Naturally, an error rate so high is unacceptable—but is a different narrative than that of the wicked poor stealing from the taxpayers.

SNAP (Food stamp) fraud does occur—but it is mostly committed by businesses rather than the recipients.  While there is some fraud on the part of recipients, the best data indicates that such fraud accounts for about 1% of the payments. Given the rate of fraud in the private sector, that is exceptionally good.

Given this data, the overwhelming majority of those who receive assistance are not engaged in fraud. This is not to say that fraud should be ignored—in fact, it is the concern with fraud on the part of the recipients that has resulted in such low incidents of fraud. Interestingly, about one third of fraud involving government money involves not the poor, but defense contractors who account for about $100 billion in fraud per year. Medicare and Medicaid combined have about $100 billion in fraudulent expenditures per year. While there is also a narrative of the wicked poor in regards to Medicare and Medicaid, the fraud is usually perpetrated by the providers of health care rather than the recipients. As such, the focus on fraud should shift from the poor recipients of aid to defense contractors and to address Medicare/Medicaid issues. That is, it is not the wicked poor who are siphoning away money with fraud, it is the wicked wealthy who are stealing from the rest of us. As such the narrative of the poor defrauding the state is a flawed narrative. While it does happen, the overall level of fraud on the part of recipients seems to be less than 2%. Most of the fraud, contrary to the narrative, is committed by those who are not poor. While the existence of fraud does show a need to address that fraud, the narrative has cast the wrong people as villains.

While the idea of mass welfare cheating is unfounded, a good faith debate can be had as to whether people should receive support from the state. After all, even if most recipients are honestly following the rules and not engaged in fraud, there is still the question of whether the state should be providing welfare, food stamps, Medicare, Medicaid and similar such benefits. Of course, the narrative against helping citizens in need does lose much of its rhetorical power if you know the poor are not fraudsters. That dishonor goes to a wealthier class of people, which should be no surprise. After all, if the poor were engaged in the level of fraud attributed to them, they would no longer be poor.

While the American right favors tax cuts, the left sometimes proposes tax increases. One argument advanced by the right against increasing taxes is the demotivation argument. The gist of the argument is that if their taxes are increased, the rich will become demotivated and this will have negative consequences. Since these negative consequences should be avoided, the conclusion is that taxes should not be increased.

In assessing this reasoning, there are two major points of concern. One is whether a tax increase would destroy the motivation of the upper class. The other deals with the negative consequences, their nature, their likelihood of occurring and the extent and scope of the harm. I will begin with the alleged consequences.

The alleged consequences are many and varied. One is based on the claim that the top economic class includes the top innovators of society and if they are demotivated, then there will be less innovation. This could range from there being no new social media platforms to there being no new pharmaceuticals. While this is a point of concern, this assumes that innovation arrives primarily out of the top economic class—which can be tested. While some top earners are innovators, innovation also come from the lower economic classes—such the people doing research and engineering. The idea that the rich are the innovators does match the fiction of Ayn Rand but seems to miss the way research and development usually occurs.

Another alleged consequence rests on the claim that the upper class serves as the investors who provide the capital that enables the economy to function. Since they control the capital, this is a reasonable concern. If Americans with the most money decided to reduce or stop investing, then the investment economy would need to rely on foreign capital or what could be provided by the lower classes. Since the lower classes have far less money (by definition), they would not be able to provide the funds. There are, of course, foreign investors who would happily take the place of the wealthy Americans, so the investment economy would probably still roll along. Especially since American investors might find the idea of losing out to foreign investors sufficient motivation to overcome the demotivation of a tax increase.

There is also the claim that the upper class contains the people who do the important things, like brain surgery and creating the new bubble that will be the destroy the world economy next time around. While this has some appeal, much of the important stuff is done by people who are not in the upper class. Again, the idea that the economic elite are doing all the really important stuff while the rest of  us are takers rather than makers is yet another Randian fantasy.

Fairness does, however, require that these concerns be properly investigated. If it can be shown that the upper class is as critical as its defenders claim, then my assertions can be refuted. Of course, it worth considering that much of the alleged importance of the upper class arises from the fact that it has a disproportionate share of the wealth and that it would be far less important if the distribution were not so grotesquely imbalanced. As such, a tax increase could decrease the importance of the economic elites. I will now turn to the matter of whether a tax increase would demotivate the rich.

An easy and obvious response to the claim that a relatively small tax increase would demotivate the rich is that the rest of us work jobs, innovate, invest and do important things for vastly less money than those at the top. Even if the rich paid slightly more taxes, their incomes would still vastly exceed ours. And if we can find the motivation to keep going despite our low incomes, then the rich can also do so. When I worked at a minimum wage job, I was motivated to go to work. When I was an adjunct making $16,000 a year, I was still motivated to go to work. Now that I am a professor, I am still motivated to go to work.

It could be replied that those of us in the lower classes are motivated because we need the income to survive. We need to work to buy food, medicine, shelter and so on. Those who are so well off that they do not need to work to survive, it could be claimed, also have the luxury of being demotivated by an increase in their taxes. Whereas someone who must earn her daily bread at a crushing minimum wage (or less) job must get up and go to work, the elite can allow themselves to be broken by a slight tax increase and decide to stop investing, stop innovating, and stop doing important stuff.

One reply is that it seems unlikely that the rich would be broken by a tax increase. Naturally, a crushing increase would be a different story—but the American left does not seriously suggest imposing truly crushing tax burdens on the rich. After all, crushing burdens are for the poor. Another reply is that if the current rich become demotivated and give up, there are many who would be happy to take their place—even if it means paying slightly higher taxes on a vastly increased income. So, we would just get some new rich folks to replace the demotivated slackers. The invisible hand of the market to the rescue again.

 

The avoidance argument against increasing taxes on the rich is that doing so is pointless because they will find ways to nullify the increase. They might use established methods or develop new ones, but (the argument goes) they will manage to avoid paying more taxes. Therefore, there is no point in wasting time trying to make them pay more.

This argument has a certain appeal in that there is little sense doing ineffectual things. As such, it would seem reasonable to leave things as they are, since this change would do just that—only at the cost of enacting ineffective legislation.

Despite this appeal, there are two factual issues that need to be addressed. The first is the issue of whether the rich would try to avoid a tax increase. Some of the wealthy have at least claimed to favor higher tax rates, so they might accept the increase. However, most people (be they rich or not) generally prefer not to pay more taxes. There is also the fact that many of the rich already do all they can to minimize their tax burden. There is no reason to think that a tax increase would change this behavior. As such, it is reasonable to infer that most of the rich would try to minimize the impact of any tax increase.

The second factual issue is whether the rich would be able to nullify a tax increase and to what degree. One approach is to consider that if the rich are concerned about a tax increase, then this indicates that it would affect them. After all, people generally do not worry about things they believe will not affect them.

A reasonable counter is that while the rich will be affected by the tax increase, their concern is not that they will be paying more taxes, but that avoiding the increase will come with a cost. For example, they might have to pay lawyers or accountants more to enable them to neutralize the increase.  Or they might need to lobby or “donate” to politicians. It makes sense that the rich would be willing to expend resources to mitigate any tax increase. As if the expenditure would be lower than what paying the increase would cost them, then this approach could be rational. It could even be claimed that some might be willing to pay more to avoid the taxes than the taxes would cost them, perhaps as a matter of principle. While this sounds odd, it is not inconceivable.

Another approach is to consider how effectively the rich avoid existing taxes. Even if they are somewhat effective at doing so, the increase could still impact them and thus generate more tax revenue (which is the point of a tax increase). As such, an increase could be effective in regard to the stated goal of increasing revenue.

In addition to the factual issues, there is also the issue of whether the principle that underlies this argument is a good principle. The principle is that if people will be able to avoid a law (or policy), then the law should not be passed.

This principle does have a pragmatic appeal: it seems irrational to waste time and resources creating laws  that will simply be avoided. This sort of avoidance argument is also used against proposed bills aimed at gun control. Interestingly, most who use the avoidance argument against gun control do not accept this same argument about abortion laws or drug laws. This is as should be expected: people tend to operate based on preferences rather than on consistent application of principles.

One possible response is that if a law is worth having, then steps should be taken to ensure that people cannot just avoid it. If some people can get away with murder, then the morally right reaction would not be to give up on the law. The correct reaction would be to ensure that they could not get away with murder. Naturally, it can be argued that the tax increase would not be a law worth having—but that is a different argument from the avoidance argument.

A second possible response is to reject the consequentialist approach and argue that the fact that people will be able to avoid a law is not as important as the issue of whether the law is right. Some people take this approach to drug laws: they accept that the laws are ineffective, but contend that since drug use is immoral, it should remain illegal. As always, consistency is important in these matters: if the principle that moral concerns trump the pragmatic concerns is embraced, then that principle needs to be applied consistently in all relevantly similar cases. If the principle that the pragmatic should trump the moral is accepted, then that needs to be applied consistently as well. While the issue of whether such a tax increase is morally right or not is important, my concern here is with the avoidance argument. But, if the tax increase is not the right thing to do and the rich would just avoid it, then imposing it would be both wrong and a poor  pragmatic choice.

One way to argue against increasing taxes (or having any taxes at all) is to contend that to increase the taxes of the wealthy against their wishes would be coercion. There are more hyperbolic ways to make this sort of argument, such as asserting that taxes are robbery by the state. However, I will use a more neutral definition of “coercion.” While “coercion” has a negative connotation, those of “theft” and “robbery” are even more negative.

If coercion is always morally wrong, then coercing the wealthy into paying more taxes would be wrong. As such, a key issue is whether coercion is always wrong. On the face of it, the morality of an act of coercion would depend on many factors, such as the goal and nature of the coercive act and the parties involved. An important factor is whether the coerced consented to the system of coercion. For example, it can be argued that criminals consented to the use of coercive force against them by being citizens of the state and so they (in general) cannot claim they are being wronged when they are arrested and punished for crimes they committed.

It could be claimed that by remaining citizens of the United States and participating in a democratic political system, the rich consent to the decisions made by the legitimate authorities of the state. So, in the unlikely event that Congress increases the taxes of the rich, then the rich are obligated to go along. They might not like the decision, but that is how a democratic system (supposedly) works. The state is supposed to use its coercive power to ensure that the laws are followed—be they laws against murder, laws against infringing the patents of pharmaceutical companies or laws increasing the tax rate.

A reasonable response to this is that although the citizens of the state have agreed to be subject to the coercive power of the state, there are moral limits on the power. Returning to the example of the police, there are moral limits on what sort of coercion they should use—even when the law and common practice might allow them to exceed them. Returning to the matter of laws, there are clearly unjust laws. As such, agreeing to be part of a coercive system does not entail that all the coercive actions of that system or its laws are morally acceptable. Given this, it could be claimed that the state coercing the rich into paying more taxes might be wrong.

It could be countered that if the taxes on the rich are increased, this would be after the state and the rich have negotiated the taxes. The rich have organizations, such as corporations, that enable them to present a unified front to the state. One might even say that these are unions of the wealthy. The rich can also pay lobbyists to negotiate with the people in the government and, of course, the rich also have the usual ability of any citizen to negotiate with the government.

If the rich fare poorly in their negotiations, perhaps because those making the decisions do not place enough value on what the rich have to offer, then the rich must accept this result until they have the chance to change the law. After all, that is how the free market of democratic politics is supposed to work. If the rich do not like the results, they should have brought more to the table or been better at negotiating. They can also find another country—and some do just that. Or create or take over their own state.

It could be objected that negotiations between the state and the rich will be unfair for the rich. While the rich can have great power, the state (probably still) has greater power. After all, the United States has trillions of dollars, police, and the military. This imbalance of power makes it impossible for the rich to fairly negotiate with the state—unless there are rules and regulations governing how the rich can be treated by the greater power of the state. There could be, for example, rules about how much the state should be able to tax the rich and these rules should be based on a rational analysis of the facts. This would allow a fair maximum tax to be set that would allow the rich to be treated justly.

The relation between a state intent on maximizing tax income and the rich can be seen as analogous to the relation between employees and businesses intent on maximizing profits. If it is acceptable for the wealthy to organize corporations to negotiate with the more powerful state, then it is also be acceptable for employees to organize unions to negotiate with the more powerful corporations. While the merits of individual corporations and unions can be debated endlessly, the basic principle of organizing to negotiate with others is essentially the same for both and if one is acceptable, so is the other.  Unions are the corporations of the poor and corporations are the unions of the rich.

Continuing the analogy, if it is accepted that the state’s freedom to impose taxes should be limited, then it would also be reasonable to think that there should be limits, regulations and restrictions on the economic freedom of employers in regards to how they treat employees. After all, employees are almost always in the weaker position and thus usually negotiate at a marked disadvantage. While workers, like the rich, could try to find another job, create their own business or go to another land, the options of most workers are far more limited.

To use a specific example, if it is morally right to set a rational limit to the maximum tax for the rich, it is also morally right to set a rational limit on the minimum wage that an employee can be paid. Naturally, there can be a wide range of complexities in regard to both the taxes and the wages, but the basic principle is the same in both cases: the more powerful should be limited in their economic impositions on the less powerful. There is also the shared principle of how much a person has a right to, be it the money they keep or the money they are paid for work.

Like any argument by analogy, this can be challenged by showing the relevant similarities between the analogues are outweighed by the relevant dissimilarities. There are various ways this could be done.

One obvious difference is that when the state imposes taxes on the rich, the state is using political coercion. In the case of the employer imposing on the employee, the coercion is economic (although some employers do have the ability to get the state to use its coercive powers in their favor). It could be argued that this difference is strong enough to break the analogy and show that although the state should be limited in its imposition on the rich, employers should have great freedom to employ their economic coercion against employees. The challenge is showing how political coercion is morally different from economic coercion in a way that breaks the analogy.

Another obvious difference is that the state is imposing taxes on the rich while the employer is not taxing their employees. The employer is setting their wages, benefits, vacation time, work conditions and so on.  So, while the state can reduce the money of the rich by taxing them, it could be argued that this is relevantly different from an employer reducing the money of employees by paying low wages. As such, it could be argued that this difference is sufficient to break the analogy.

As a final point, it could be argued that the rich differ from employees in ways that break the analogy. For example, it could be argued that since the rich are of a better economic class than employees, they are entitled to better treatment, even if they happen to be unable to negotiate for that better treatment. The challenge is, of course, to show that the rich being rich entitles them to a better class of treatment.

When attacking DEI efforts, folks on the right usually make vague remarks about merit. While the right seems to have abandoned philosophy, let us imagine a good faith argument against DEI efforts based on an appeal to merit.

While the right is unclear what they mean by “merit”, the common usage is that a person receives something, such as a position, based on earning it through being worthy. For example, when people talk about meritocracy, they usually speak of people earning positions, jobs, scholarships or promotions based on their skills, abilities and effort. In contrast, receiving such things because of factors such as wealth, social class, or family connections would not be the result of merit. There are obvious philosophical questions about what factors should count as merit in terms of determining what people earn and what they merely receive. For example, a person who gets into college because of their academic ability might seem to have earned it by merit. But what if they have that ability because of the genetic lottery and years of expensive tutoring and schooling paid for by wealth inherited by their parents? They did not earn their genes, tutoring, and schooling and this would, it seems to diminish claims of merit. But let us return to constructing a merit argument against DEI efforts. I will then use that merit argument against inheritance.

To build a merit argument against DEI efforts, one must begin with the assumption that DEI is either not needed or unfair. For it not to be needed, it must be assumed that those who benefit from DEI do not face significant discrimination or unfair obstacles and have equal opportunity to succeed on their merits. For it to be unfair, it must be assumed that those who benefit from DEI gain an unfair, unmerited advantage over others.

While those who oppose DEI often seem to do so from racism, sexism and similar bigotry, one could take the view that women and minorities are just as capable as white men (and have equal opportunities) but that DEI efforts provide its beneficiaries unfair advantages over equally qualified white men. If it is also assumed that things such as jobs and scholarships should be earned by merit, then it would follow that DEI is bad. Obviously, I do not think that most folks on the right are advancing good faith arguments against DEI but let us take the merit argument seriously and hold them to their professed view that laws should be crafted to ensure that success is merit based and that unfair advantages are eliminated. This entails that the inheritance laws should be changed to eliminate the unfair, unearned advantages conferred by inherited wealth. If one is exceptionally devoted to merit, one could even push for laws aimed at creating equality of opportunity for everyone—but I will just focus on inheritance.

Inherited wealth, by definition, is unearned and thus anything it is used to acquire would be unmerited to the degree the wealth purchased it. Such wealth can confer significant advantages in terms of such things as influence, opportunities and resources. As a minor example, a family with sufficient inherited wealth can own property in the best school district, provide tutoring and other support for their children, enroll them in special programs and so on. If one is a stickler about merit, children obviously do not earn or merit such advantages even if their parents did not inherit their wealth and to the degree the children gain from them, they would not be earning whatever they receive from them. Ironically, the anti-DEI President Trump received millions from his father, and this provided him with a massive, unearned advantage over everyone who choose their parents less wisely. Family members can also inherit businesses and gain unearned ownership and positions in those businesses. And so on, for all that can be inherited and can yield unfair advantages. None of these are earned or merit based. So, those who reject DEI based on the merit argument must also oppose inheritance on the same basis. If laws should be passed to forbid DEI to ensure that success is based on merit, then laws should also be passed to eliminate or severely restrict inheritance to ensure that success is based on merit.

It might be objected that inherited wealth is not like DEI efforts, but the challenge is to show how they different in relevant ways. One could argue that there is an obvious difference: DEI is linked to such factors as gender, ethnicity and veteran status, whereas inheritance is usually just a matter of birth. But objections of this sort would be based on the idea that merit should apply to DEI factors but not otherwise, which would not be a merit-based argument. If merit is what matters and the law must ensure this, then merit is what matters and the law must ensure this.

While few, if any, on the right would accept the above reasoning and consistency arguments obviously have no effect on the right (or most people), we should always remember that their merit arguments against DEI are made in bad faith unless they also argue against inheritance. When they speak of merit, they should be asked about inheritance and other unfair advantages they favor.

After the financial class burned down the economy again, local governments once more faced a reduction in their revenues. As the economy recovered under a Democrat President, the Republicans held or gained power in many state governments, such as my own adopted state of Florida. With laudable consistency with their professed ideology, Republicans cut taxes for businesses, the well off and sometimes almost everyone. While the professed theory is cutting taxes increases revenue for state and local governments, shockingly enough the opposite happens: state and local governments run short of funds needed to meet the expenses of operating a civilization.

Being resourceful, local leaders then seek other revenue streams to pay the bills. While cities like Ferguson provided well-known examples of a common “solution”, many have embraced the idea of law-enforcement as revenue stream. While the general practice of getting revenue from law enforcement is nothing new, the extent to which some local governments rely on it shocking. How the system works is also often shocking as it can be a shakedown system one would expect to see in a corrupt country unfamiliar with the rule of law or the rights of citizens.

Since Ferguson, where Michael Brown was shot on August 9, 2014, has been the subject of extensive study, I will use the statistics from that town. Unfortunately, Ferguson does not appear to be unique or even unusual.

In 2013, Ferguson’s court dealt with 12,108 cases and 24,532 warrants. This works out to an average of 1.5 cases and 3 warrants per household in Ferguson. The fines and court fees that year totaled $2,635,400, making the municipal court the second largest revenue stream.

One concern that was addressed by the media was that the legal system disproportionally target blacks. In Ferguson, as in many places, most of the cases handled by the court are from traffic stops. Ferguson is 29% white, but whites make up only 12.7% of those stopped. When a person is stopped, a black citizen will be searched 12.1% of the time, while a white citizen will be searched 6.9% of the time. In terms of arrest, a black citizen was arrested 10.4% of the time and a white citizen was arrested 5.2% of the time.

The usual reply to such disparities is to claim that blacks commit more crimes than whites. If it were true that black Americans were being arrested in proportion to the rate at which they were committing crimes, then this would be (on the face of it) fair. However, this is not the case. Even though blacks were more likely to be searched than whites, police discovered contraband only 21.7% of the time. Whites who were searched were found with contraband 34.0% of the time. Also, 93% of those arrested in Ferguson were black. While not logically impossible, it would be odd that 93% of the crime in the city was committed by black citizens.

Naturally, these numbers can be talked around or explained away. It could be argued that blacks are not being targeted as a specific source of revenue, and the arrest rates are proportional and just. This still leaves the matter of how the legal system operates in terms of being focused on revenue.

Laying aside race, Ferguson stands out as an example of how law enforcement can turn into a collection system. One key component is, of course, having costly fines. For example, Ferguson had a $531 fine for high grass and weeds, $792 for Failure to Obey, $527 for Failure to Comply, $427 for a Peace Disturbance violation, and so on.

If a person can pay, then the person is not arrested. But, if a person cannot afford the fine, then an arrest warrant is issued, and this is the second part of the system. The city issued 32,975 arrest warrants for minor offenses in 2013 and the city had a population of 21,000 people at that time.

After a person is arrested, they face even more fees, such as court fees and these can quickly pile up. For example, a person might get a $150 parking ticket they cannot pay. They are then arrested and subject to more fees and more charges. This initial ticket might grow to a debt of almost$1,000 to the city. Given that the people who tend to be targeted are poor, it is likely they will not be able to pay for the initial ticket. They will then be arrested, which could cost them their job, thus making them unable to pay their court fees. This could easily spiral into a court-inflicted cycle of poverty and debt. This, obviously enough, is not what the legal system is supposed to do. Unless, of course, it is.

From a moral standpoint, one problem with using law enforcement as a revenue stream is the damage it does to the citizens who cannot afford the fines and fees. As noted in the example above, a person’s life could be ruined by a single parking ticket. The point of law enforcement in a just society is to protect the citizens from harm, not inflict ruin.

A second moral concern is that this system seems to be racketeering. It makes a threat of arrest and court fees, and then offers “protection” from that threat in return for a fee. That is, citizens are threatened so they will buy their way out of greater harm. This is hardly justice. If it was practiced by anyone other than the government (or a corporation), it would be criminal racketeering and a protection scheme.

A third moral concern is exploiting the citizens by force and threat of force damages the fundamental relation between the citizen and the democratic state. In feudal states and in the domains of warlords, one expects the thugs of the warlords to shake down the peasants. However, that sort of thing is contrary to the nature of a democratic state. As happened during the revolts against feudalism and warlords, people will sometimes revolt against such oppression, and this is to be expected. Robin Hood is, after all, the hero and the Sheriff of Nottingham is the villain. But some folks in law enforcement take Darth Vader to be the hero, so…

This is not to say that there should never be fines, penalties and punishments. However, they should be proportional to the offenses, they should be fairly applied, and should be aimed at protecting the citizens, not filling the coffers of the kingdom. As a final point, we should not be cutting the taxes of the rich and shift costs to the poor. That is unjust and will result in dire social consequences. But the obvious problem is that these systems are working as intended.

A Philosopher’s Blog 2025 brings together a year of sharp, accessible, and often provocative reflections on the moral, political, cultural, and technological challenges of contemporary life. Written by philosopher Michael LaBossiere, these essays move fluidly from the ethics of AI to the culture wars, from conspiracy theories to Dungeons & Dragons, from public policy to personal agency — always with clarity, humor, and a commitment to critical thinking.

Across hundreds of entries, LaBossiere examines the issues shaping our world:

  • AI, technology, and the future of humanity — from mind‑uploading to exoskeletons, deepfakes, and the fate of higher education
  • Politics, power, and public life — including voting rights, inequality, propaganda, and the shifting landscape of American democracy
  • Ethics in everyday life — guns, healthcare, charity, masculinity, inheritance, and the moral puzzles hidden in ordinary choices
  • Culture, identity, and conflict — racism, gender, religion, free speech, and the strange logic of modern outrage
  • Philosophy in unexpected places — video games, D&D, superheroes, time travel, and the metaphysics of fictional worlds

Whether he is dissecting the rhetoric of conspiracy theories, exploring the ethics of space mining, or reflecting on the death of a beloved dog, LaBossiere invites readers into a conversation that is rigorous without being rigid, principled without being preachy, and always grounded in the belief that philosophy is for everyone.

This collection is for readers who want more than hot takes — who want to understand how arguments work, why beliefs matter, and how to think more clearly in a world that rewards confusion.

Thoughtful, wide‑ranging, and often darkly funny, A Philosopher’s Blog 2025 is a companion for anyone trying to make sense of the twenty‑first century.

 

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A look back at the American economy shows a “pastscape” of exploded economic bubbles. These include the housing bubble and the technological .com bubble. We are probably blowing up a new bubble.

In “The End of Economic Growth?” Oxford’s Carl Frey discusses the new digital economy and presents the value of select digital companies relative to the number of people they employ. One example is Twitch, which streams videos of people playing games (and people commenting on people playing games). Twitch was purchased by Amazon for $970 million. Twitch had 170 employees. Facebook bought WhatsApp for $19 billion. WhatsApp employed 55 people at the time of this acquisition. In an interesting contrast, IBM employed 431,212 people in 2013.

While it is tempting to explain the impressive value to employee ratio in terms of grotesque over-valuation, there are other factors involved. One, as Frey notes, is that digital businesses often require relatively little capital. WhatsApp started out with $250,000 and this was actually rather high for an app as the average cost to develop one was $6,453 at the time. As such, a relatively small investment can create a huge return.

Another factor is an old one, namely the efficiency of technology in replacing human labor. The development of the plow reduced the number of people required to grow food, the development of the tractor reduced it even more, and the refinement of mechanized farming has enabled an even more dramatic reduction in labor. While it is true that people must do work to create digital companies (writing the code, for example), much of the “labor” is automated and done by computers rather than people. AI companies also hold forth the promise of eliminating even more human labor, although one should consider the potential risk of letting AI do critical work.

A third factor is the digital aspect. Companies like Facebook, Twitch and WhatsApp do not make objects that need to be manufactured, shipped and sold. As such, they do not (directly) create jobs in these areas. These companies do make use of existing infrastructure: Facebook does need companies like Comcast to provide internet connection and companies like Apple to make the devices. But, rather importantly, they do not employ the people who work for Comcast and Apple (and even these companies employ relatively few people).

One of the most important components of the digital aspect is the multiplier effect. To illustrate this, consider two imaginary businesses in the health field. One is a walk-in clinic which I will call Nurse Tent. The other is a health app called RoboNurse. If a patient goes to Nurse Tent, the nurse can only tend to one patient at a time, and they can only work so many hours per day. As such, Nurse Tent will need to employ multiple nurses (as well as the support staff). In contrast, the RoboNurse app can be sold to billions of people and does not require the sort of infrastructure required by Nurse Tent. If RoboNurse takes off as a hot app, the developer could sell it for millions or even billions.

Nurse Tent could, of course, become a franchise (the McDonald’s of medicine). But being labor intensive and requiring considerable material outlay, it will not be able to have the value to employee ratio of a digital company like WhatsApp or Facebook. It would, however, employ more people. However, the odds are that most of the employees will not be well paid. While the digital economy is producing millionaires and billionaires, wages for labor are low. This helps to explain why the overall economy is doing great, while most workers are worse off than before the last bubble.

It might be wondered why this matters. There are, of course, the usual concerns about the terrible inequality of the economy. However, there is also the concern that a new bubble is being inflated, a bubble filled with digits. There are some good reasons to be concerned.

First, as noted above, digital companies seem grotesquely overvalued. While the situation is not exactly like the housing bubble, overvaluation should be a matter of concern. After all, if the value of these companies is effectively just “hot digits” inflating a thin skin, then a bubble burst seems likely. This can be countered by arguing that the valuation is accurate or even that all valuation is essentially a matter of belief and if we believe, all will be fine. Until, of course, it is no longer fine. The economy, like religion, is faith based.

Second, the current digital economy increases the income inequality mentioned above, widening the gap between the rich and the poor. Laying aside the fact that such a gap historically leads to social unrest and revolution, there is the more immediate concern that the gap will cause the bubble to burst. The economy cannot, one might assume, endure without a solid middle and base to help sustain the top of the pyramid.

This can be countered by arguing that the new digital economy will eventually spread the wealth. Anyone can make an app, anyone can create a startup, and anyone can be a millionaire. While this does have some appeal, there is the fact that while it is true that (almost) anyone can do these things, it is also true that most people will fail. One just needs to consider all the failed startups and the millions of apps that are not successful.

There is also the obvious fact that civilization requires more than WhatsApp, Twitch and Facebook and people need to work outside of the digital economy (which lives atop the non-digital economy). Perhaps this can be handled by an underclass of people beneath the digital (and financial) elite, who toil away at low wages to buy smartphones so they can update their status on Facebook and watch people play games via Twitch. This is, of course, just a standard sci-fi dystopia.