Category: Politics

Academic freedom is usually taken as being more than merely the right to freely make specific claims in that it is supposed to provide broad protection in such matters as selecting books, developing curriculum and so on. It is also supposed to protect professors (tenured professors at least) from being unjustly fired or punished for expressing their views. It is, of course, not a license to act without consequences.

While defending academic freedom is often seen as leftist, conservatives have accused the left of restricting the academic freedom of conservative thinkers. While this claim is often hyperbole, there have been past incidents of faculty being punished for holding views that are regarded as politically incorrect. For example, Mike Adams was apparently once denied promotion to full professor based on his political engagement rather than a lack of qualifications. There were past proposals to replace academic freedom with academic justice.  While justice sounds good, the proposal was to substitute an ideological test in place of the general right. In short, academics could research what they wished, if it was consistent with the definition of “justice” in use. There were also proposals for trigger warnings, which also raised concerns about academic freedom. The right, in general, criticized such things and professed to favor freedom. As such, one might think that when they came into power, they would push for freedom.

One specific problem of academic freedom arises for state colleges and universities. While even for-profit schools receive money from the government, state schools receive funding as decided by the state legislature. While academic institutes, they are subject to the control of the state government.

Given that the state government is (in theory) acting in accord with the “will of the people” and that the schools are funded with state money, it is not unreasonable to believe that the state has the right to impose a degree of control over the schools. An important question is the extent to which the state should impose on academic freedom. As might be guessed, people answer this question based largely on their ideology.

As noted above, some of the loudest voices crying out for academic freedom were once on the right. Or rather, those crying out for freedom for certain views. When Republicans have power, they tend to pass laws that restrict freedom. For example, Florida’s state legislature has been busy reshaping the general education of the state schools. The law includes a ban on teaching “identity politics”, it forbids teaching that “systemic racism, sexism, oppression, and privilege are inherent in the institutions of the United States” but requires that humanities courses must include selections from the Western canon (even, for example, a GENED class on Japanese literature). And, of course, the Trump regime, which professes to love freedom, has been very busy intimidating universities to push them to conform to his will.

This view of freedom is not surprising. As Mill noted in his classic work on liberty, people rarely make decisions on liberty based on a consistent principle about what should be allowed and what should be restricted. Instead, people decide based on what they like and dislike. As such, it is hardly a shock that folks on the left and right praise freedom when it is protecting something they like while they are happy to restrict freedom when it involves something they dislike.

While the law is whatever those in power say it is, there is still the question of whether the state has the right to make such impositions. As noted above, one way to argue is that since the state funds them and they are public institutions, then the state government has the right to dictate to the universities in such matters as the content of their courses.

If this line of reasoning is good, then this would be a general principle and not one just limited to the Republicans wanting to purge “woke” content and DEI. So, if a state legislature passed laws forbidding teaching business courses or courses in religion, then that would be acceptable under this principle. It would also be acceptable for a law to be passed banning the teaching of Western history, Western values, anything that is seen as endorsing the patriarchy, and anything that is positive about white males and so on. That is, this principle would allow any state to impose any ideology onto the state schools.

Republicans would, one can infer, adamantly oppose to the ideology of their opposition setting the content for public schools. As such, it is probably fair to say that they do not have a general principle about the degree of state control over state schools but rather think that the schools should teach what Republicans like and not teach what they do not like—which is hardly a principle. In my own case, I follow a consistent principle of academic freedom and hence just as I oppose Florida mandating that GENED classes must not teach that “systemic racism, sexism, oppression, and privilege are inherent in the institutions of the United States”, I would also oppose a law that required GENED classes to teach this.

 

 

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As a philosopher, I became familiar with the notion of the modern political concept of privilege as a graduate student. This occurred sometimes in classes and sometimes when I was lectured by other students about my privileges as a white man. Lest anyone think I was exploiting my privileges, the lectures were always about my being a man and my general appearance of whiteness (I am only mostly white) as opposed to any misdeed I had committed. I was generally sympathetic to most criticisms of privilege, but I recognized that it is a fallacy to use a person’s membership in a privileged class as grounds for rejecting their claims. Back then, there was no handy phrase to check a member of a privileged class. Fortunately (or unfortunately) such a phrase emerged: “check your privilege!” Thanks to the victory of the right, this phrase is used less often these days. But as the right has been adept at adopting the tools of the left, I would expect them to have a variation on this to use against those who, in fact, lack privilege.

The original intent of the phrase was to remind someone making a claim on a political (or moral) issue that they are speaking from a position of privilege, such as being a male or straight. While it is most used against members of the traditional privileged classes (males, whites, the wealthy, etc.) it can also be employed against people of classes that are either privileged relative to the classes they are commenting on or in a different non-privileged class. For example, a Latina might be told to “check her privilege” for making a remark about black women. In this case, the idea is to remind the transgressors that different oppressed groups experience their oppression differently.

As might be imagined, some take issue with being told to “check their privilege.” In some cases, this can be mere annoyance with the phrase. This annoyance can have some foundation, given that the phrase can have a hostile connotation, and it can seem like a dismissive reply. But to be fair and balanced, it is no doubt exhausting arguing with the privileged and having a quick reply can save time and effort.

In other cases, the use of the phrase can be taken as an attempt to silence. Roughly put, “check your privilege” can be interpreted as “stop talking” or even as “you are wrong because you belong to a privileged class.” In some cases, people are interpreting the use incorrectly; the privileged are often very defensive and can, oddly, see themselves as the “real victims.”

Thus, the phrase can be seen as having two main functions (in addition to its dramatic and rhetorical use). One is as a reminder, the other is as an attack. I will consider each of these in the context of critical thinking.

The reminder function of the phrase is grounded in a real need to remind people of two common cognitive biases, namely in group bias and attribution error. In group bias is the tendency people have to easily form negative opinions of people who are not in their group. This bias leads people to see members of their own group more positively while seeing members of other groups more negatively. For example, a rich person might think that other rich people are hardworking while thinking poor people are lazy, thieving and inclined to use drugs. As another example, a woman might regard her fellow women as kind and altruistic while regarding men as violent, sex-crazed and selfish.

Given the power of this bias, it is worth reminding people about it, especially when their remarks show signs that this bias is likely to be in effect. Of course, telling someone to “check their privilege” might not be the nicest way to engage in the discussion and it is less specific than “consider that you might be influenced by in group bias.” But an insistence on “niceness” or “civility” is often a tool used to silence critics, so I understand why people would not be inclined to be “civil.” After all, “civil” can often be intended to mean “know your place” or “shut up.”

Attribution error is a bias that leads people to not appreciate that other people are as constrained by events and circumstances as they would be if they were in their situation. For example, consider a discussion about requiring voters to have a photo ID, reducing the number of polling stations and reducing their hours of operation. A person who is somewhat well off might claim that getting an ID and driving across town to a polling station on his lunch break is no problem—because it is no problem for him. However, for someone who does not have a car and is poor, these can be serious obstacles. As another example, someone who is rich might express the view that the poor should not be helped because they are obviously poor because they are lazy (and not because of the circumstances they face, such as being born into poverty).

Given the power of this bias, a person who seems to make this error should be reminded of this. But telling them to “check their privilege” might not be the most diplomatic way to engage and it is certainly less specific than pointing out the likely error. But, given the limits of social media, it might be a viable option when used in this context.

But using it to silence a person or to reject the person’s claim would not be justified. While it is reasonable to consider the effects of biases, to reject a person’s claim because of their membership in a class would be an ad hominen.  An ad hominem is a general category of fallacies in which a claim or argument is rejected based on some irrelevant fact about the author of or the person presenting the claim or argument. Typically, this fallacy involves two steps. First, an attack against the character of person making the claim, her circumstances, or her actions are made (or the character, circumstances, or actions of the person reporting the claim). Second, this attack is taken to be evidence against the claim or argument the person in question is making (or presenting). But such attacks are irrelevant to the person’s claim, whether it is a traditional ad hominem or a “check your privilege” attack.

 

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A basic lesson of philosophy is that terms need to be properly defined. Oversimplifying a bit, a good definition needs to avoid being too narrow and too broad. A definition that is too narrow leaves out things that the term should include. One that is too broad allows in too much. A handy analogy for this is the firewall that your computer should have: if it is doing its job properly, it lets in what should be allowed while keeping attacks out. An example of a definition that is too narrow would be to define “art” as “any product of the visual arts, such as painting and sculpture.” This is too narrow because it leaves out literature. As an example of a definition that is too broad, defining “art” as “that which creates an emotional effect” is defective since such things as being punch in the face or winning the lottery would be art. A perfect definition would be like perfect security: all that belongs is allowed in and all that does not is excluded.

While people have a general understanding of the meaning of “rape”, the usual view covers what my colleague Jean Kazez calls “classic” rape—an attack that involves force, threat or coercion. As she notes, another sort of rape is “date” rape—a form of assault that, on college campuses, often involves intoxication rather than overt violence.

 In many cases survivors of sexual assault do not classify the assault as rape. According to Cathy Young, “three quarters of the female students who were classified as victims of sexual assault by incapacitation did not believe they had been raped; even when only incidents involving penetration were counted, nearly two-thirds did not call it rape. Two-thirds did not report the incident to the authorities because they didn’t think it was serious enough.”

In some cases, a person changes their assessment and re-classify the incident as rape. For example, a woman who eventually reported being raped twice by a friend explained her delay on the grounds that it took her a while to “to identify what happened as an assault.”

The fact that a person changed her mind does not, obviously, invalidate their claim. However, there is the question of what is a good definition of an extremely vile thing. After all, when people claim there is an epidemic of campus rapes, they point to statistics claiming that 1 in 5 women will be sexually assaulted in college. This statistic is horrifying, but it is still reasonable to consider what it means.

One problem with inquiring into the statistics and examining the definition of “rape” is that this can be an ideological issue for some people. For some, “rape” is broadly construed and to raise even rational concerns about the broadness of the definition is to invite accusations of ignorant insensitivity (at best) and charges of misogyny. For some on the right, “rape” is very narrowly defined (including the infamous notion of “legitimate” rape) and to consider expanding the definition is to invite accusations of being woke or a radical feminist man hater.

As the ideological territory is staked out and fortified, the potential for rational discussion is proportionally decreased. In fact, to even suggest that there is a matter to be rationally discussed (with the potential for dispute and disagreement) might be greeted with hostility. After all, when a view becomes part of a person’s ideological identity, the person tends to believe that there is nothing left to discuss and any attempt at criticism is both automatically in error and a personal attack.

However, the very fact that there are such distinct ideological fortresses indicates a clear need for rational discussion of this matter and I will endeavor to do so in the essays that follows. While this is a subject I wrote on back in 2014, the rise of the manosphere and the misogynistic right has pushed me to re-visit this topic.

 

 

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Not surprisingly, people often assign responsibility based on ideology. For example, Democrats would be more inclined to regard a Republican leader as being fully responsible for his subordinates while being more forgiving of fellow Democrats. And Republicans are far less inclined to hold a fellow Republican, especially Trump, responsible for anything.  However, judging responsibility based on political ideology is a poor method. What is needed is some general principles that can be used to assess the responsibility of leaders in a consistent manner.

Interestingly (or boringly) enough, I usually approach the matter of leadership and responsibility using an analogy to the problem of evil. Oversimplified, the problem of evil is the problem of reconciling God being all good, all knowing and all powerful with the existence of evil. If God is all good, then he would tolerate no evil. If God was all powerful, He could prevent all evil. And if God was all knowing, then He would not be ignorant of any evil. Given God’s absolute perfection, He thus has absolute responsibility as a leader: He knows what every subordinate is doing, knows whether it is good or evil and has the power to prevent or cause any behavior. As such, when a subordinate does evil, God has absolute accountability. After all, the responsibility of a leader is a function of what they can know and the extent of their power.

In stark contrast, a human leader (no matter how awesome) falls infinitely short of God. Such leaders are not perfectly good, and they are obviously not all knowing or all powerful. These imperfections thus reduce their responsibility.

In the case of goodness, no human can be expected to be morally perfect. As such, failures of leadership due to moral imperfection can be excusable within limits. The challenge is sorting out the extent to which imperfect humans can legitimately be held morally accountable and to what extent our unavoidable moral imperfections provide a legitimate excuse. These standards should be applied consistently to leaders whether one likes them or not.

In the case of knowledge, no human can be omniscient—we have extreme limits on our knowledge. The practical challenge is sorting out what a leader can reasonably be expected to know, and the responsibility of the leader should be proportional to that extent of knowledge. This is complicated a bit by the fact that there are at least two factors here, namely the capacity to know and what the leader is obligated to know. Obligations to know should not exceed the human capacity to know, but the capacity to know can often exceed the obligation to know. For example, the President could presumably have everyone spied upon and thus could, in theory, know a great deal about his subordinates. However, this would seem to exceed what the President is obligated to know (as President) and probably exceeds what they should know.

Obviously enough, what a leader can know and what they are obligated to know will vary based on the leader’s position and responsibilities. For example, as the facilitator of the philosophy & religion unit at my university, my obligation to know about my colleagues is very limited as is my right to know about them. While I have an obligation to know what courses they are teaching, I do not have an obligation or a right to know about their personal lives or whether they are doing their work properly on outside committees. So, if a faculty member skipped out on committee meetings, I would not be responsible for this—it is not something I am obligated to know about.

As another example, the chair of the department has greater obligations and rights in this regard. He has the right and obligation to know if they are teaching their classes, doing their assigned work and so on. Thus, when assessing the responsibility of a leader, sorting out what the leader could know and what they are obligated to know are important matters.

In regard to power (taken in a general sense), even the most despotic dictator’s powers are still finite. As such, it is reasonable to consider the extent to which a leader can utilize their authority or use up their power to compel subordinates. As with knowledge, responsibility is proportional to power. After all, if a leader lacks power (or authority) to compel obedience in regards to certain matters, then the leader cannot be accountable for not making the subordinates do or not do certain actions. Using myself as an example, my facilitator position has no power: I cannot demote, fire, reprimand or even put a mean letter into a person’s permanent record. The extent of my influence is limited to my ability to persuade—and I have no rewards or punishments to offer. As such, my responsibility for the actions of my colleagues is extremely limited.

There are, however, legitimate concerns about the ability of a leader to make people behave correctly and this raises the question of the degree to which a leader is responsible for not being persuasive enough or using enough power to make people behave correctly. The question is whether the bad behavior arising from resisting authority/power is the fault of the leader or the resistor. This is like the concern about the extent to which responsibility for failing to learn falls upon the teacher and to which it falls on the student. Obviously, even the best teacher cannot reach all students, and it would seem reasonable to believe that even the best leader cannot make everyone do what they should be doing.

Thus, when assessing alleged failures of leadership, it is important to determine where the failures lie (morality, knowledge or power) and the extent to which the leader has failed. Obviously, principled standards should be applied consistently—though it can be sorely tempting to damn the other guy while forgiving the offenses of one’s own guy.

 

 

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One of my lasting lessons from political science is that every major society has a pyramid structure of wealth and power. The United States is no exception. However, the United States is also supposed to be a democratic society—which seems inconsistent with the pyramid.

While the United States has the mechanisms of democracy, such as voting, it might be wondered whether it is democratic or oligarchic (or plutocratic) in nature. While people might consider how they feel about this, feelings and anecdotes are not proof. So, for example, a leftist who thinks the rich rule the country and who feels oppressed by the plutocracy does not prove their belief by appealing to their feelings or anecdotes about the rich. Likewise, a conservative who thinks that America is a great democracy and feels good about the rich does not prove their belief by appealing to their feelings or anecdotes about the rich.

What is needed is a study to determine how the system works. One obvious way to determine the degree of democracy is to compare the expressed preferences of citizens with the political results. If the political results generally correspond to the preferences of the majority, then this is a reasonable (but not infallible) indicator the system is democratic. If the political results generally favor the rich and powerful while going against the preferences of the less wealthy majority, then this would be a reasonable (but not infallible) indicator that the system is oligarchic (or plutocratic). After all, to the degree that a system is democratic, the majority should have their preferences enacted into law and policy—even when this goes against the wishes of the rich. To the degree that the system is oligarchic, then the minority of elites should get their way—even when this goes against the preferences of the majority.

Some years ago, researchers at Princeton and Northwestern conducted just such a study: “Testing Theories of American Politics: Elites, Interest Groups, and Average Citizens”  using data gathered from 1981 to 2002. The researchers examined about 1,800 polices from that time and matched them against the preferences expressed by three classes: the average American (50th income percentile), the affluent American (the 90th percentile of income) and the large special interest groups.

The results were not surprising: “The central point that emerges from our research is that economic elites and organized groups representing business interests have substantial independent impacts on US government policy, while mass-based interest groups and average citizens have little or no independent influence.”

As noted above, a democratic system should result in the preferences of the majority being expressed in policies and laws more often than not. However, “When a majority of citizens disagrees with economic elites and/or with organized interests, they generally lose. Moreover, because of the strong status quo bias built into the US political system, even when fairly large majorities of Americans favor policy change, they generally do not get it.” As such, this study provided evidence that the United States was already an oligarchy before Trump, rather than a democratic state.

It might be contended that this system is fine since, to use a misquote, what is the preference for General Motors is the preference for Americans. That is, it could be claimed that the elites and most Americans have the same or similar preferences.  However, the study found that the interests of the wealthy are not substantially correlated with the preferences of average citizens. The preferences of most Americans do not match the interests of the wealthy, but the wealthy generally get what they want.

One objection is that the preferences of the majority are mistaken—that is, the majority wants things that are not in their best interest and what the elites want is what is best. For example, while most Americans might prefer stronger consumer protection laws, it could be claimed that they are in error because what is good for GM is good for the country, even if the many think otherwise. What is in their best interest is less consumer protection, which is what the financial elites want.

The obvious reply is that even if the majority is mistaken and the oligarchs know best, this would be arguing that oligarchy is better than democracy, not that America is not an oligarchy.

Another objection is that the system is democratic in that people vote for elected officials who then pass laws and enact policies. As citizens can vote them out of office, they must be expressing the preferences of the citizens—even though policy and law consistently goes against the expressed preferences of the majority. This is to say that we have democratically created an oligarchy, so it is still a democracy (or at least a republic).

This objection is interesting and raises a question about why people consistently re-elect those who consistently act contrary to their expressed preferences. One possibility is that the choices are very limited—you can vote for anyone you want, but a Democrat or Republican will almost certainly be elected. As such, the voters get to vote, but do not get real choices.

Another possibility is ignorance—people might not realize that what they get does not match what they claim to want. Such ignorance would put the moral blame partially on the citizens—they should be better informed.  Then again, given the abysmal approval rating for congress and President Trump, it seems that people do realize this. This creates an odd scenario: people really dislike them yet re-elect them. 

A third possibility is the power of propaganda engines devoted to convincing people that the laws and policies are good. So, while people prefer one thing, they are persuaded to believe that what is in the interest of the oligarchy is what they should like. People might also be distracted by other matters—for example, people who have been convinced they should fear transgender people and hate DEI will support politicians who appeal to their hate and fear, even if the politician also supports policies contrary to most other things the voter wants. In this case, the moral failing is on the part of the deceivers—they are tricking citizens and corrupting democracy.

Another approach to objecting to the study is to raise questions about the methodology. One question would be whether the 1,800 policies are properly representative of the political system. After all, if the researchers picked ones that favored the wealthy and ignored others that matched public preferences, then the study would be biased. As such, a key question is whether the sample used in the study is large enough and representative enough to adequately support the conclusion. Another question would be whether the study had the preferences of the people correct. After all, to properly claim that the laws and policies do not generally match the preferences of the majority, the claimed preferences would need to be the actual preferences of the majority. These concerns can be addressed by examining the study carefully and objectively, rather than merely dismissing or accepting it based on how one feels about the matter.

Looking back on the study from the perspective of 2026, it is evident that Trump and Congress are simply openly engaging in an oligarchy that has long existed in the United States.

 

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While same sex couples currently have the right to marry, it would be unwise to think that this right is permanent. As such, I find it wise to continue to discuss the various arguments used against it. Fortunately, opponents of same-sex marriage tend to recycle old arguments rather than advance something new. As a philosopher, I’ll focus on the moral arguments against same-sex marriage.

If something is morally wrong, then it should be possible to present non-fallacious and reasonable arguments to show it is wrong.  There should also be true claims in any arguments. I do not claim that the arguments must be decisive, that is a rare occurrence in ethics. While people continue to argue against same sex marriage, the arguments are often the old mix of fallacies and poor reasoning. There is also the usual employment of untrue “facts.”

Appeal to tradition and appeal to common practice are two fallacies that are often used to argue against same-sex marriage.  This might be done by arguing that defining marriage as being between a man and a woman is correct because it is “age-old and still predominant.” Appeal to tradition is the fallacy that something is good or true just because it has been believed or practiced for a long time. While people do refer to a test of time, the mere fact that something has endured as a tradition is not evidence it is true or good. If it is, in fact, true or good, then reasons beyond an appeal to tradition should exist. Common practice is the fallacy that a practice is good just because it is common. But just because many people do something does not entail it is good. Also, if something is good, then there should be other reasons as to why it is good beyond the claim that it is commonly done. As same-sex marriage has now been around for a while, the appeal to tradition and common practice arguments can be countered on their own fallacious terms by pointing out that same-sex marriage is now both a tradition and a common practice.

Another standard argument against same-sex marriage is the procreation gambit, sometimes with an added bit about the state’s interest. One example is the argument made by the state of Utah during the last fight over the issue:  “Same-sex couples, who cannot procreate, do not promote the state’s interests in responsible procreation (regardless of whether they harm it).” There is also the boilerplate argument about “responsible procreation” and “optimal mode of child rearing.” Expect to see these arguments more if the push back against same-sex marriage gets more momentum.

In these arguments, same-sex marriage is criticized on two grounds in the context of “responsible procreation.” The first is the claim that same-sex couples cannot procreate naturally. The second is that same-sex couples fail to provide an “optimal mode of child rearing.” To argue same-sex couples the right to marry because of these criticisms would require accepting two general principles: 1) marriage is to be denied to those who do cannot or do not procreate and 2) people who are not capable of the “optimal mode of child rearing” should not be allowed to marry.

The first principle entails that different sex couples who do not want or cannot have children must also be denied marriage. After all, if an inability (or unwillingness) to have kids warrants denying same-sex couples the right to marry, the same would also apply to different-sex couples.

This principle would also seem to imply that couples who use artificial means to reproduce (such as in vitro fertilization or a surrogate) must also be denied marriage. After all, same-sex couples can use these methods to procreate. Alternatively, if different-sex couples can use these methods and be allowed to marry, then same-sex couples who procreate would thus also seem to be entitled to marriage.

The principle would also seem to entail that all married couples would be required to have at least one child, presumably within a specific time frame to ensure that the couple is not just faking their desire (or ability) to have children to get married. This would certainly seem to be a violation of the rights of the parents and an egregious intrusion by the state.

The second principle entails that straight couples who are not optimal parents must be denied marriage.  This would seem to require that the state monitor all marriages to determine that the parents are providing an optimal mode of child rearing and that it be empowered to revoke marriage licenses (as the state can revoke a driver’s license for driving violations) for non-optimal parents. Different-sex parents can obviously provide non-optimal modes. After all, child abuse and neglect are committed by different-sex couples.

While I agree irresponsible people should not have children and the state has an obligation to protect children, it is absurd to deny such people the right to marry. After all, not allowing them to marry (or dissolving the marriage when they proved irresponsible) would not make them more responsible or benefit the children. Now to the state’s interest.

For the sake of the argument, I will grant that the state (that is, the people making up a political entity we call the state) has an interest in having people reproduce. After all, the state is just a collection of people, so if there are no new people, the state will cease to exist. Of course, this also gives the state an interest in immigration—it would also replace lost people.

This interest in procreation does not, however, entail that the state thus has an interest in preventing same sex-marriage. Allowing same-sex marriage does not reduce the number of different-sex marriages—that is, there is not a limited supply of marriages that same-sex couples could “use up.” Also, even if there were a limited number of allowed marriages, same-sex couples would only be a small percentage of the marriages and, obviously enough, marriage is not a necessary condition for procreation nor responsible procreation. That is, people can impregnate or be impregnated without being married. People can also be good parents without being married. And they can be terrible parents when married.

Considering these arguments, the procreation argument against same-sex marriage remains absurd. If those opposing same-sex marriage had better arguments, they would surely use them. But they simply repeat the old, failed arguments and fallacies. But, to be fair and balanced, this is not a fight that is won or lost by logic but by politics and that battle might be refought soon.

As a young political science and philosophy major I learned about types of governments. Among these is the plutocracy—rule by the wealthy. I recall thinking, in my young anarchist days, that all governments were, are and will be plutocracies. After all, the rich always have influence proportional to their wealth and society tends to head in the direction desired by the wealthy. I was aware, of course, that there can be momentary disruptions of the plutocracy. For example, a rebellion or revolution might result in the old rich being killed, exiled or stripped of their wealth. However, history shows that a new rich always emerges (or the old rich return). Even in the allegedly communist states, a wealthy class has always appeared. “Communist” China, after all, has billionaires. The plutocratic system seems eternal.

As might be imagined, my cynical view was countered by some of my friends—they insisted that America was a democracy and not a plutocracy. After all, they argued, the rich do not always get their way in everything and money did not always decide elections. In fact, they pointed out that there were strict restrictions on political spending. A plutocracy would not have such limits.  As such, some might conclude that my younger anarchist self was mistaken. But I think, here in 2026, that my young self has been tragically proven right.

Years ago, the infamous Supreme Court ruling allowed unlimited campaign spending by corporations on the grounds that corporations are people, spending is speech and people have a right to free speech. The idea that corporations are people can be easily disproven by a simple reduction ad absurdum: If corporations have the right to free speech because they are people, then they cannot be owned. After all, the Constitution expressly forbids slavery (that is, the ownership of people). To contend that corporations can be owned yet are people who have freedom of speech is to either accept slavery or to fail to grasp the logical notion of consistency. So, a corporation can have freedom of speech, provided it is set free from being owned. Since it is obvious that corporations are things that can be justly owned, it should be obvious that they are not people. As such, they do not get freedom of speech. Naturally, the actual people associated with corporations have their right to freedom of speech. What remains is, of course, the matter of whether spending is speech or not.

On 4/2/2014 the Supreme Court struck down the aggregate campaign contribution limits. This was based, not surprisingly, on the Citizens United ruling in 2010.  That ruling included the absurd claim that the influence and access offered unlimited spending is not a concern in regard to corruption. The years since then have proven the obvious: unlimited spending invites corruption.

The case was brought by Shaun McCutcheon—a very wealthy Republican donor. The impact of his victory is that a single donor, such as McCutcheon, can contribute millions to parties, candidates and PACs. The ruling did leave some limits in place: an individual can give:  $2,600 per candidate, per election; $32,400 to political party committees per year; and $5,000 per PAC, per year. The main change was there is no longer an overall cap to the total donations. Previously, a donor could not give more than $123,200 to all political committees, with limits of $48,600 to candidates and $74,600 to political parties and PACs.

McCutcheon claimed, in error or falsely, that this was a grassroots victory against the status quo:  “With the ruling, we continue to chip away at the long entrenched status quo from the grassroots—a status quo that has kept challengers, better ideas, and new entrants to the political arena mostly locked out. Ensuring that citizens are able to contribute to multiple candidates or causes who share their views only provides further support to a system in which ‘We the People’ hold the ultimate reins of power.”

This was an odd claim in 2014, given that it benefits most those wealthy enough to make such donations as opposed to the average citizen who lacks the funds to take advantage of this ruling. As I predicted in 2014, this ruling weakened what little grasp the people still have on the reins of power and strengthened the grip of the wealth. As I predicted, this ruling was a boon for the Republican party and billionaires as was evident by the billionaires attemnding Trump’s last inauguration. While it is true that the Democrats also have their wealthy supporters, the Democrats rely more heavily on large numbers of small donations.

Back in 2014 I was concerned the ruling would lead to increased corruption and increased influence on politics by the wealthy. On the face of it, these seem to be the obvious consequences of lifting such restrictions and allowing the money to flow more freely into politics. After all, the original purpose of the restrictions was to address problems with corruption and influence buying. It was an easy prediction to get right.

While those who supported it insisted that corruption and influence buying would not increase, they also appealed to the principle of freedom. As Republican Speaker of the House John Boehner said at the time, “What I think this means is freedom of speech is being upheld. Donors ought to have the freedom to give what they want to give.”

The basic issue, then, was and still is whether such spending is speech.  That spending is free speech, seemed a dubious claim then and appears even more dubious now But let us reason through this. Suppose that spending money for political purposes should be considered speech. Now, it is acceptable to try to persuade a politician by speaking to them. If spending is speech, then I should be able to try to persuade politicians by speaking to them with money. However, this is bribery. But, if spending is a form of free speech, bribery should be acceptable as a form of free speech. This seems absurd, to say the least.

It might be countered that such contributions cannot be direct bribes in that there can be no direct giving of money in return for specific actions or promises to act. However, it would be foolish to believe campaign financing is not intended to influence behavior by providing money and support. After all, it would be ludicrous to imagine that millionaires and billionaires would donate millions of dollars and expect nothing in return. While this is not logically impossible, it is exceptionally unlikely. What has happened since 2014 has confirmed this repeatedly and the Trump regime has abandoned all pretense of not being a plutocracy. Although, to be fair and balanced, Trump’s approach is best seen as a griftocracy.

However, suppose  spending is a form of speech and tprotected by the right of free expression. It does not, of course, follow that such speech should be free of limits. After all, limits are justly placed on speech. The example everyone uses is yelling of “fire” in a crowded theater in which there is no fire. In the case of allowing this sort of spending, it would do serious harm to the political process by increasing the influence of an individual based on his wealth and thus proportionally decreasing the influence of those who are less wealthy. To use an analogy, it is on par with having a public discussion in which the wealthy are allowed to blast their speech from concert grade loudspeakers up on a stage while the rest of us are expected to try to shout out our views from the crowd.

To counter arguments like this, Roberts made an analogy to newspaper endorsements. As he said, there is no limit to the number of candidates a newspaper can endorse. As such, by analogy, it should follow that there should be no limit on the number of candidates a person can donate money to. There are two easy and obvious replies I made back in 2014. The first is to go back to the original argument that spending is not speech. While a newspaper endorsement is speech (it is the expression of ideas and views) handing people money does not seem to qualify as an expression of ideas and views. When I buy a pair of running shoes or pay my entry to a road race, I am not engaged in expression—I am trading money for goods and services. Likewise, when a person donates to a political cause, they are trading money for goods and services. But, even if it is accepted that spending is speech, there is still a significant difference. A newspaper endorsement works by persuasion—one is either swayed by it or not. In contrast, large sums of money have far more impact: money allows people to become viable candidates, and it allows them to run campaigns. As such, the influence of money is much more significant than the influence of a newspaper endorsement and this increases the likelihood of corruption.

This returns to the corruption issue. My contention, back in 2014, was that such a flow of money would lead to corruption and grant the wealthy even more influence, while reducing the political influence of the less wealthy. The competing claim is that allowing this sort of spending will not have any negative impact. Given the usual effect of large sums of money, I would claim that increased corruption seems to be the likely outcome. Looking back twelve years after that 2014 decision, my predictions were proven correct; although that was one of the easiest predictions I ever made.

“The amazing, the unforgivable thing was that all his life he had watched the march of ruined men into the oblivion of poverty and disgrace—and blamed them.”

 

-The Weapon Shops of Isher, A.E. van Vogt

 

In the previous essay, I discussed the role of chance in artistic success. In Salganik’s discussion of his experiment, he noted it probably had broader implications for success. Sorting out the role of chance in success is both interesting and important.

One reason it is important to sort out chance is to provide a rational basis for praise or blame (and any accompanying reward or punishment). After all, success or failure by pure chance would not merit praise or blame. If I win a lottery by pure chance, I have done nothing warranting praise. Aside from acquiring a ticket, I had no substantial role in the process. Likewise, if I do not win a random lottery, I do not merit being accused of failure.

This also ties into morality in that chance can mitigate moral responsibility. If the well-maintained brakes on my truck fail as I approach a stop sign at a reasonable speed and I hit an innocent pedestrian, I am not to blame—this seems a matter of chance. I were to accidentally crash into someone trying to commit murder and save their intended victim, I am not responsible for this fortuitous outcome.

Much less obvious is the connection between chance and setting rational public policy and laws. After all, setting public policy on such matters as unemployment benefits and food stamps without properly assessing the role of chance in success and failure would be a grave moral error. Suppose as some claim, people end up unemployed or in need of food stamps because of factors that are well within their control. That is, they effectively freely decide to be unemployed or in need. If this is the case, then it would be reasonable to set public policy to reflect this (alleged)reality, and this would seem to entail that such support should not exist. To use an analogy, if someone foolishly throws away her money, I have no obligation to give her more money. Her poor decision making does not constitute my obligation.

However, if chance (or other factors beyond the control of the individual) play a significant role in success and failure, then it is reasonable to shape policy to match this alleged reality. Suppose as some claim, people often end up unemployed or in need of food stamps because of chance rather than their own choice. In this case, public policy should reflect this alleged reality, and such aid should be available to help offset chance.  To use an analogy, if someone is robbed of the money she needs to buy food for herself and her children, then her situation does obligate me—if can help her at reasonable cost to myself, I should do so. Otherwise, I am lacking in virtue.

Thus, determining the role of chance in success and failure is important matter. Unfortunately, it is also a very complex matter.  I think it would be helpful to use an example to show that chance seems to be a major factor in success in factor. Since I am most familiar with my own life, I will use myself as an example of the role of chance in success and failure.

As I mentioned in the previous essay on this matter, I was accused of believing in choice because I want to get credit for my successes. As might be imagined, people who are successful usually want to believe their success is largely due to their decisions and efforts—that they have earned success. Likewise, people who are failures often blame chance (and other factors) for their failures. People also apply their view to the opposite of their situations: the successful attribute failure to the decisions of those who have failed. Those who have failed attribute the success of others to chance. People usually embrace the narrative that pleases them most. However, what pleases need not be true. As such, while I like to believe that my success is earned, I am willing to consider the role of chance.

One factor that is entirely a matter of chance is birth. It is, if there is chance, a matter of chance that I was born in the United States to a lower middle-class family and that I was healthy. It is also largely a matter of chance, from my standpoint, that I had a family that took care of me and that I was in a society that provided stability, healthcare and education. If I had been born in a war and poverty ravaged area or had serious health issues, things would have been much different.

The rest of my life was also heavy with chance. For example, I almost ended up a Marine, but budget cuts prevented that and instead I ended up at Ohio State. I ended up meeting a woman there who went to Florida State University and thus I ended up in Tallahassee by chance. This allowed me to get the job I have—which was also largely due to chance. Florida A&M University needed a philosophy professor right away and I just happened to be there. I could, easily enough, go through all the matters of chance that resulted in my success: meeting the right people, being in the right place at the right time, avoiding the wrong people, and so on.

Of course, my desire to take credit drives me to add that I surely had a role to play in my success. While chance put me in the United States with a healthy body and mind, it was my decisions and actions that got me through school and into college. While chance had a major role in my getting a job as a professor, surely it was my actions and decisions that allowed me to keep the job. While chance played a role in my book sales, surely the quality of my work is what wins people over. Roughly put, chance put me into various situations, but it was still up to me to take advantage of opportunities and to avoid dangers.

While my pride drives me to seize a large share of the credit for my success, honesty compels me to admit that I owe almost everything to pure chance—starting with day zero. Presumably the same is true of everyone else as well. As such, I think it wise to always temper praise and condemnation with the knowledge that chance played a major role in success and failure. And we should do what we can to help ensure that everyone can have a good life and not just the lucky few who all too often think they deserve what they have been granted by chance.

While asteroid mining is still science fiction, companies are already preparing to mine the sky. While space mining sounds awesome, lawyers are murdering the awesomeness with legalize. Long ago, President Obama signed the U.S. Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act which seemed to make asteroid mining legal. The key part of the law is that “Any asteroid resources obtained in outer space are the property of the entity that obtained them, which shall be entitled to all property rights to them, consistent with applicable federal law and existing international obligations.” More concisely, the law makes it so that asteroid mining by U.S. citizens would not violate U.S. law.

While this would seem to open the legal doors to asteroid mining, there are still legal barriers, although the law is obviously make-believe and requires that people either are willing to follow it or the people with guns are willing to shoot people for not following it. Various space treaties, such as the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, do not give states sovereign rights in space. As such, there is no legal foundation for a state to confer space property rights to its citizens based on its sovereignty. However, the treaties do not seem to forbid private ownership in space—as such, any other nation could pass a similar law that allows its citizens to own property in space without violating the laws of that nation. Obviously enough, satellites are owned by private companies and this could set a precedent for owning asteroids, depending on how clever the lawyers are.

One concern is that if several nations pass such laws and people start mining asteroids, then conflict over valuable space resources will be all but inevitable. In some ways this will be a repeat of the past: the more technologically advanced nations engaged in a struggle to acquire resources in an area where they lack sovereignty. These past conflicts tended to escalate into wars, which is something that must be considered in the final frontier.

One way to try to avoid war over asteroids is new treaties governing space mining. This is, obviously enough, a matter that will be handled by space lawyers, governments, and corporations. Unless, of course, AI kills us all first. Then they can sort out asteroid mining.

While the legal aspects of space ownership are interesting, its moral aspects of ownership are also of concern. While it might be believed that property rights in space are entirely new, this is not the case. While the setting is different than in the original, the matter of space property matches the state of nature scenarios envisioned by thinkers like Hobbes and Locke. To be specific, there is an abundance of resources and an absence of authority. As it now stands, while no one can hear you scream in space, there is also no one who can arrest you for space piracy as long as you stay in space.

Using the state of nature model, it can be claimed that there are currently no rightful owners of the asteroids, or it could be claimed that we are all the rightful owners (the asteroids are the common property of all of humanity). 

If there are currently no rightful owners, then the asteroids are there for the taking: an asteroid belongs to whoever can take and hold it. This is on par with Hobbes’ state of nature—practical ownership is a matter of possession. As Hobbes saw it, everyone has the right to all things, but this is effectively a right to nothing—other than what a person can defend from others. As Hobbes noted, in such a scenario profit is the measure of right and who is right is to be settled by the sword.

While this is practical, brutal and realistic, it is a bit problematic in that it would, as Hobbes also noted, lead to war. His solution, which would presumably work as well in space as on earth, would be to have sovereignty in space. This would shift the war of all against all in space (of the sort that is common in science fiction about asteroid mining) to a war of nations in space (which is also common in science fiction). The war could, of course, be a cold one fought economically and technologically rather than a hot one fought with mass drivers and lasers.

If asteroids are regarded as the common property of humanity, then Locke’s approach could be taken. As Locke saw it, God gave everything to humans in common, but people must acquire things from the common property to make use of it. Locke gives a terrestrial example of how a person needs to make an apple her own before she can benefit from it. In the case of space, a person would need to make an asteroid her own to benefit from the materials it contains.

Locke sketched out a basic labor theory of ownership—whatever a person mixes her labor with becomes her property. As such, if asteroid miners located an asteroid and started mining it, then the asteroid would belong to them.  This does have some appeal: before the miners start extracting the minerals from the asteroid, it is just a rock drifting in space. Now it is a productive mine, improved from its natural state by the labor of the miners. If mining is profitable, then the miners would have a clear incentive to grab as many asteroids as they can, which leads to the moral problem of the limits of ownership.

Locke does set limits on what people can take in his proviso: those who take from the common resources must leave as much and as good for others. When describing this to my students, I always use an analogy to a party: since the food is for everyone, everyone has a right to the food. However, taking it all or taking the very best would be wrong (and rude). While this proviso is ignored on earth, the asteroids could provide us with a fresh start in terms of dividing up the common property of humanity. After all, no one has any special right to claim the asteroids—so we all have equal good claims to the resources they contain.

As with earth resources, some will contend that there is no obligation to leave as much and as good for others in space. Instead, those who get there first will contend that ownership should be on the principle of whoever grabs it first and can keep it is the “rightful” owner. Unless someone grabs it from them, then they would presumably see that as a cruel injustice.

Those who take this view would probably argue that those who get their equipment into space would have done the work (or put up the money) and (as argued above) would be entitled to all they can grab and use or sell. Other people are free to grab what they can, if they have access to the resources needed to mine the asteroids. Naturally, the folks who lack the resources to compete will remain poor—their poverty will, in fact, disqualify them from owning any of the space resources much in the way poverty effectively disqualifies people on earth from owning earth resources.

While the selfish approach will be appealing to those who can grab the asteroids, arguments can be made for sharing them. One reason is that those who will mine the asteroids did not create the means to do so from nothing. Reaching the asteroids will be the result of centuries of human civilization that made such technology possible. As such, there would seem to be a general debt owed to human civilization and paying this off would involve also contributing to the general good of humanity. Naturally, this line of reasoning can be countered by arguing that the successful miners will benefit humanity when their profits “trickle down” from space. Sadly, as on earth, gravity does not seem to affect money in terms of trickling it down. It always seems to go upwards.

Another way to argue for sharing the resources is to use an analogy to a buffet line. Suppose I am first in line at a buffet. This does not give me the right to devour everything I can with no regard for the people behind me. It also does not give me the right to grab whatever I cannot eat myself to sell it to those who had the misfortune to be behind me in line. As such, these resources should be treated in a similar manner, namely fairly and with some concern for those who are behind the first people in line.

Naturally, these arguments for sharing can be countered by the usual arguments in favor of selfishness. While it is tempting to think that the vastness of space will overcome selfishness (that is, there will be so much that people will realize that not sharing would be absurd and petty), this seems unlikely—the more there is, the greater the disparity is between those who have and those who have not. On this pessimistic view we already have all the moral and legal tools we need for space—it is just a matter of changing the wording a bit to include “space.”

In the previous essay on threat assessment, I looked at the influence of availability heuristics and fallacies related to errors in reasoning about statistics and probability. This essay continues the discussion by exploring the influence of fear and anger on threat assessment.

A rational assessment of a threat involves properly considering how likely it is that a threat will occur and, if it occurs, how severe the consequences might be. As might be suspected, the influence of fear and anger can cause people to engage in poor threat assessment that overestimates the likelihood or severity of a threat.

One starting point for anger and fear is the stereotype. Roughly put, a stereotype is an uncritical generalization about a group. While stereotypes are generally thought of as being negative (that is, attributing undesirable traits such as laziness or greed), there are also positive stereotypes. They are not positive in that the stereotyping itself is good. Rather, the positive stereotype attributes desirable qualities, such as being good at math or skilled at making money. While it makes sense to think that stereotypes that provide a foundation for fear would be negative, they often include a mix of negative and positive qualities. For example, a feared group might be cast as stupid and weak, yet somehow also incredibly cunning and dangerous.

Stereotyping leads to similar mistakes that arise from hasty generalizations in that reasoning about a threat based on stereotypes will often result in errors. The defense against a stereotype is to seriously inquire whether the stereotype is true or not.

Stereotyping is useful for demonizing. Demonizing, in this context, involves unfairly portraying a group as evil and dangerous. This can be seen as a specialized form of hyperbole in that it exaggerates the evil of the group and the danger it represents. Demonizing is often combined with scapegoating—blaming a person or group for problems they are not responsible for. A person can demonize on their own or be subject to the demonizing rhetoric of others.

Demonizing presents a clear threat to rational threat assessment. If a group is demonized successfully, it will be (by definition) seen as eviler and more dangerous than it really is. As such, both the assessment of the probability and severity of the threat will be distorted. For example, the demonization of Muslims by various politicians and pundits distorts threat assessments.

The defense against demonizing is like the defense against stereotypes—a serious inquiry into whether the claims are true. It is worth noting that what might seem to be demonizing might be an accurate description. This is because demonizing is, like hyperbole, exaggerating the evil of and danger presented by a group. If the description is true, then it would not be demonizing. Put informally, describing a group as evil and dangerous need not be demonizing. For example, descriptions of Isis as evil and dangerous were generally accurate. As are descriptions of evil and dangerous billionaires.  

While stereotyping and demonizing are rhetorical devices, there are also fallacies that distort threat assessment. Not surprisingly, one is scare tactics (also known as appeal to fear). This fallacy involves substituting something intended to create fear in the target in place of evidence for a claim. While scare tactics can be used in other ways, it can be used to distort threat assessment. One aspect of its distortion is the use of fear—when people are afraid, they tend to overestimate the probability and severity of threats. Scare tactics is also used to feed fear—one fear can be used to get people to accept a claim that makes them even more afraid.

One thing that is especially worrisome about scare tactics in the context of terrorism is that in addition to making people afraid, it is also routinely used to “justify” encroachments on rights, massive spending, and the abandonment of moral values. While courage is an excellent defense against this fallacy, asking two important questions also helps. The first is to ask, “should I be afraid?” and the second is to ask, “even if I am afraid, is the claim actually true?” For example, scare tactics has been used to “support” the claim that refugees should not be allowed into the United States. In the face of this tactic, one should inquire whether or not there are grounds to be afraid of refugees and also inquire into whether or not an appeal to fear justifies banning refugees.

It is worth noting that just because something is scary or makes people afraid it does not follow that it cannot serve as legitimate evidence in a good argument. For example, the possibility of a fatal head injury from a motorcycle accident is scary but is also a good reason to wear a helmet. The challenge is sorting out “judgments” based merely on fear and judgments that involve good reasoning about scary things.

While fear makes people behave irrationally, so does anger. While anger is an emotion and not a fallacy, it does provide the fuel for the appeal to anger fallacy. This fallacy occurs when something that is intended to create anger is substituted in place of evidence for a claim. For example, a demagogue might work up a crowd’s anger at illegal migrants to get them to accept absurd claims about building a wall along a massive border.

Like scare tactics, the use of an appeal to anger distorts threat assessment. One aspect is that when people are angry, they tend to reason poorly about the likelihood and severity of a threat. For example, a crowd that is enraged against illegal migrants might greatly overestimate the likelihood that the migrants are “taking their jobs” and the extent to which they are “destroying America.” Another aspect is that the appeal to anger, in the context of public policy, is often used to “justify” policies that encroach on rights and do other harms. For example, when people are angry about a mass shooting, proposals follow to limit gun rights that had no relevance to the incident in question. As another example, the anger at illegal migrants is often used to “justify” policies that will harm the United States. As a third example, appeals to anger are often used to justify policies that would be ineffective at addressing terrorism and would do far more harm than good.

It is important to keep in mind that if a claim makes a person angry, it does not follow that the claim cannot be evidence for a conclusion. For example, a person who learns that her husband is having an affair with an underage girl would probably be very angry. But this would also serve as good evidence for the conclusion that she should report him to the police and divorce him. As another example, the fact that illegal migrants are here illegally and knowingly employed by businesses because they can be more easily exploited than American workers can make someone mad, but this can also serve as a premise in a good argument in favor of enforcing (or changing) the laws.

One defense against appeal to anger is good anger management skills. Another is to seriously inquire into whether there are grounds to be angry and whether any evidence is offered for the claim. If all that is offered is an appeal to anger, then there is no reason to accept the claim based on the appeal.

The rational assessment of threats is important for practical and moral reasons. Since society has limited resources, rationally using them requires considering the probability of threats rationally—otherwise resources are being misspent. There is also the concern about the harm of creating fear and anger that are unfounded. In addition to the psychological harm to individuals that arise from living in fear and anger, there is also the damage stereotyping, demonizing, scare tactics and appeal to anger do to society. While anger and fear can unify people, they most often unify by dividing—pitting us against them. I urge people to think through threats rather than giving in to the seductive demons of fear and anger.