THE CASE FOR ANARCHY
Cazadero, Winter 1988
I'm going to give a simple, precise definition of
anarchy. Despite historical misunderstanding of the
term, anarchy is a form of social organization in
which there is no sovereign state.
It does not connote social chaos or general lawlessness.
It does not imply ownership in common. The crucial,
defining characteristic of anarchy is the abolition of
one particular institution -- an allegedly
"sovereign" government that claims a legal
right to impose its will upon private citizens.
In the United States, we have two layers of sovereign
government: the Federal Union and the fifty states of
which it is composed. By a narrowly-ratified compact
authored 200 years ago, the Feds claim to possess the
legal right to make war, regulate commerce, coin money,
suppress rebellion, impose taxes, make treaties, promote
the general welfare, and do anything else that may be
necessary to keep themselves in supreme power, anywhere
on the planet. The individual State governments claim
to possess the legal right to regulate private
behaviour, charter municipal and private corporations,
grant marriages and divorces, impose taxes, compel
attendance in public schools, and whatever else the Feds
have not yet preempted. At both levels of this system,
private citizens are legally granted a relatively narrow
set of "liberties", which are not abrogated
unless it is convenient to do so in order to serve the
public good.
Here we should pause to explain that no one has ever
attempted to define who "the public" are. The
courts are just as confused as everybody else on this
question. The public is everyone. People v
Ruthven, 288 N.Y.S. 631. The public is not
everyone. Terminal Taxicab v Kutz, 241 U.S. 252.
It does not mean all the people, or most of the people,
but so many as contradistinguishes them from a few.
Mary Pickford v Bayly, 86 P.2d 102. The public
is the government. Oahu R. Co. v Brown, 8 Hawaii
163. (The government?!)
There is no clear doctrine on what the general welfare
is either. In 1937 the U.S. Supreme Court more or less
stifled further discussion by saying: "The issue is
a closed one. It was fought out long ago. When money
is spent to promote the general welfare, the concept of
welfare or the opposite is shaped by Congress."
Helvering v Davis, 301 U.S. 619.
This brings us to the ultimate justification for the
alleged "sovereignty" of American governments: the
ballot box. In 1787, a handful of men proposed a form
of national government that was intended to solve some
jurisdictional and political problems among the 13
original colonies, which had become independent states.
After a lengthy, hotly-debated struggle for
ratification, it was approved by slim majorities in nine
states. New York and Virginia were among the last to
ratify because their citizenry were vehemently opposed
to the plan. North Carolina and Rhode Island refused to
ratify until 1790, when it became obvious that their
economic and political interests would suffer if they
remained outside the Federal republic.
To put things in perspective, please consider that among
the 3,317,000 people in the newly-organized United
States of America, less than 20% could vote. Slightly
more than half of these voters had consented to the new
form of government. A total of 142 electors were chosen
to represent "the people" during the first
presidential election. George Washington was selected
by 69 of them.
One of the great mysteries about democracy is the
persistent assertion that, somehow, a miniscule
percentage of votes entitles the sovereign to impose
regulations over vast numbers of people who did
not consent to be ruled. But far more puzzling
is the belief that 69 votes, cast two hundred years ago,
somehow obligates 240 million Americans today. Indeed,
the claim is often repeated, that our Founding Fathers
did this, or said that, and thus created a precedent by
which we are all bound.
Baloney. If three people are engaged in a project, and
one of them refuses to cut his throat for the benefit of
the other two, by what conceivable right can the
"majority" claim that they are entitled to
murder the dissenter?
Here, then, is the theoretical starting point for
anarchy. If anyone or anything is
"sovereign", it is each individual man, woman,
and child, who is presumed to be endowed by nature with
an equal right to life, liberty and the pursuit of
happiness. Significantly, these principles, although
prominently featured in the Declaration of Independence,
somehow never found their way into the
U.S. Constitution. Human rights were all well and good
when there was an external tyrant, but when the Founding
Fathers turned their attention to establishing their own
brand of sovereignty, it was no longer expedient to
speak in terms of natural justice.
Historically, anarchy is the newest kid on the political
block. Democracy, monarchy, theocracy, and communism
have ancient roots which extend back to ancient
civilizations. Anarchy, like laissez-faire capitalism,
is a child of the Industrial Revolution -- and, indeed,
they have a great deal in common. Laissez-faire
capitalism means "hands-off" in terms of
economic life. Anarchy means "hands-off" in
legal and political life.
It is therefore especially embarassing to note that 19th
century anarchists hated the institution of private
property and aligned themselves with French and Russian
communists, in an effort to abolish private property
rights. Classical anarchists rather stupidly believed
that property was created and maintained by the state.
Karl Marx theorized that the state would "wither
away" under communist rule, so it is not surprising
to that a rather confused sect of early anarchists were
prepared to accept a temporary dictatorship of the
proletariat as a way-station on the road to absolute
freedom. After all, "absolute freedom" is a
confused idea -- about which I will have more to say
later on.
The endorsement of bloodshed and temporary tyranny was a
miscalculation of enormous dimensions, for the
communists and anarchists alike. One does not promote
liberty by abolishing it. To suggest that anarchy can
be achieved by coercion, is akin to saying that
nutrition can be derived from poisons.
Perhaps it is well to emphasize that anarchy, in the way
I have defined it, is a form of social
organization sans government. Modern critics, as
well as some 19th-century anarchists, solemnly decree
that we cannot have one without the other -- that any
hope of law and order (including property rights)
depends upon the existence of a sovereign state. Ayn
Rand, a proponent of laissez-faire capitalism, for
example, insisted that government was a natural and
necessary arbiter among otherwise free men. Robert
Nozick, in Anarchy, State & Utopia, argued
that territorial sovereignty is essential to public
order. Between them lies the substance of so-called
"libertarian" thought in contemporary America,
which rejects anarchy in favor of a Jeffersonian ideal:
The best government is that which governs least.
The brief reply to such criticisms is to suppose a
Robinson Crusoe island on which Friday has been granted
a bed in which to sleep. It is in Crusoe's interest to
concede this particular division of property, and Friday
is content with the arrangement. No need of
arbitration, or weighted ballots, or written
constitutions. Just two men who are competent to assess
their social interests.
Whether the political laboratory is inhabited by 2 men
or 240 million, the central feature of their social
intercourse remains singularly distinct, and I have come
to think of it as custom that will someday become formal
jurisprudence on the subject -- i.e., de facto
anarchy. To the extent that the state does not or
cannot impose its will, you have de facto anarchy,
whether you like it or not.
Take democracy, for example. If the sovereign cannot
dictate how people will vote (or think, or speak), it is
highly artificial to say that government is truly
sovereign. Who knows? -- they might be booted out come
November. In a monarchy, the reigning prince must be
careful not to do anything that will undermine the
confidence and loyalty of his subjects, as Machiavelli
shrewdly observed. The United States Supreme Court has
seldom attempted to rule against public opinion -- and,
during their brief period of stubborn opposition to
Roosevelt's New Deal, they were doomed to recant. It is
a maxim of the common law that "we imbibe it at
every pore", and judges wisely limit themselves to
an accomodation of whatever the local sentiments happen
to be.
Majority rule is a similarly hollow pretense. We drank
during Prohibition. Kids are still buying narcotics
after 50 years of fierce interdiction. And, although
the vast majority of Americans are dead-set against
slavery, murder, and racial discrimination, no law can
prevent these three evils from sprouting like stubborn,
perennial weeds in our midst.
Slavery? -- of course. Women are de facto
domestic servants to autocratic husbands. Children
scream in helpless anguish, as they are marched off to
churches, schools, woodsheds and family gatherings,
against their will. Employees are enslaved by their
hometown employers or by a majority of their unionized
co-workers. The list is endless -- and it is vain to
say that government should have (or could have)
abolished the practice by law. Ask any lawyer about the
legal status of children, or what happens when a citizen
defies the will of his neighbours. Every prisoner is a
slave; every draft-dodger; every licensed business
owner.
Murders, of course, are impossible to prohibit or to
deter -- not even by threats of ghastly retribution. If
we suppose that a miniscule 1/10th of one percent of the
general populace might commit homicide, how many
policemen, psychologists, prison guards and judges would
it take to eradicate this gruesome anarchy? 1/10th of
one percent of the U.S. population is still 240,000
potential murderers. What shall we do? -- kill them
before they can kill someone else? Lock them up in
preventive detention for the rest of their lives?
Eradicate every conceivable weapon in America (knives,
bludgeons, screwdrivers)? What about prospective
abortions? What about potential suicides? Drunk
drivers? Daredevil youths?
Far worse, as a fiction of sovereignty and a very
hurtful social ill, is the matter of racial
discrimination. Why can't Jesse Jackson (or any other
black man) be elected president? Why is it so hard to
get a job in Hollywood if you're not Jewish? How many
law-enforcers will it take to prevent businessmen from
hiring and promoting members of their own families, or
members of their church, social group, college class,
political party, ethnic background, sex -- you name it.
The "sovereign state" is an illusion.
Have we eradicated poverty? -- No. We doubled the
number of people who are malnourished.
Has our legal system settled disputes? -- No. We became
the most litigious society on earth.
Did we achieve the central goal of the Founding Fathers?
-- No. The Constitution's famous compromise plunged
us into the Civil War, at a cost of nearly a million
lives and five times the G.N.P. in 1860. Instead of
reducing the need for a standing peacetime army, the
United States spawned a vast military-industrial complex
unmatched by any other nation in history.
How ridiculous! -- after exerting every talon and claw,
the Federal Government is reduced to pitifully begging
that we should "Just say No" to drugs. Yes, it might
work, if enough individual men, women and children
decide to agree with that suggestion -- but let's not
kid ourselves about who's ruling who.
Individual conscience (and cowardice) create the bulk of
tax dollars -- not the coercive machinery of our
Internal Revenue Service. What could they possibly do
if more than a few obscure tax-resisters decided not to
file? What if 10% refused to file? 20%? 50%?
You know, we learned a wonderful lesson in Vietnam. You
can't conquer people with napalm and bribery -- you have
to win their hearts and minds. All the U.S. support
that was poured into Iran, the Phillipines and Lebanon
went for naught, because coercion only works on the
willing. The moment any "sovereign" state attempts to
physically force someone to change his mind, another
anarchist is born. Call him what you will -- tax cheat,
rebel, freedom fighter -- it's a vote for liberty.
This stubborn, voluntary aspect of the human mind is a
subject well worth exploring. Ayn Rand covered it so
well that we need not continue beyond the conclusion she
reached. Any man can be free if he chooses to be.
Based on rather cruel personal experience, I know this
to be true. As an inmate of a maximum-security Federal
penitentiary for a short time, and being rather small in
stature, believe me, there were many occasions on which
my freedom, dignity, and consent were put at risk of
extinction. But there is a sage expression one hears in
jail: "Everybody has to sleep sometime" --
which means that no tyrant, no rapist, no gang leader is
immune from reprisal.
Tyrants live short, frantic lives. Their evil is not
likely to be tolerated, even by the weakest and mildest
of pacifists. When Ghandi conquered the British, he
taught the world that passive opposition works just as
well as active warfare in certain situations. When
Martin Luther King adopted his strategy, America was
shamed -- not coerced -- into reform. And when Federal
officials ordered forced bussing to achieve racial
integration of public schools, those who refused simply
moved to an all-white district.
This is what I mean by de facto anarchy. No
matter how many votes are on one side or another, you
might as well forget about enforcing a majority opinion,
unless the majority is so overwhelming as to utterly
crush a few stray nay-sayers. But be sure that those
dissenters are crushed, or you might find someone
slipping a bomb under the Fuhrer's conference table.
It is so tempting to point to the world's dictatorships
as evidence of the potential evil in any coercive state,
that I shall not do so. Instead, I will say that Hitler
was incapable of ruling a majority of Germans without
their consent. The Nazis seized power at a time of
social malaise; they scapegoated a small but visible
minority; every effort was made to spy upon and control
individual liberty. "We are now at the end of the Age
of Reason," Hitler gleefully confided to
Rauschning. "At a mass meeting, thought is eliminated.
And because this is the state of mind I require, because
it secures to me the best sounding board for my
speeches, I order everyone to attend the meetings, where
they become part of the mass whether they like it or
not!" In the cafes and streets of Berlin a new type of
behaviour swept the populace, known as der Deutsche
Blick ("the German Look"), which consisted of
surreptitiously glancing around to see who was within
earshot, before uttering even the most innocent and
trivial remarks, because they might be misunderstood and
reported to the authorities as evidence of treason. If
you are thinking that this could not happen in America,
you have not studied the history of the 1st Amendment,
the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, or the McCarthy
witch-hunts of the 1950s.
The Nazis executed thousands upon millions -- Jews,
communists, Poles, Dutch, French, German dissidents,
hospital patients, scientists, parents and grandparents
who had let slip a word of criticism that was overheard
by a member of the Hitler Youth. Here, if anywhere in
the world, at any time in history, was a society gone
mad with "sovereignty". Millions could do nothing but
obey, obey, obey -- or face the firing squad.
Yet the Nazis could neither decree nor deter a single
friendship, romance, or hatred. Parents still loved
their infant children. Lovers did not cease to pine for
their sweethearts. Ideas could not be physically ripped
from the minds of thinkers and ordinary laborers. De
facto anarchy ebbed to its lowest possible level, but it
did not cease to function.
Nor shall it ever -- not even in the midst of labor
camps and hopelessly dark inner-city ghettos. Every
time an infant is born into this world, society must
reckon that there is 50/50 chance that this new citizen
is an anarchist at heart. Every effort will be made to
inculcate the newcomer with an imprint of social and
civic duty, a constant stream of religious and moral
imperatives, a steady bombardment of information and
experience -- all of it aimed at baffling, bribing, and
silencing the child's latent tendancy to think or speak
the magic word of independence: "No!"
When the prototype 19th-century anarchists spoke of
"absolute freedom" and mankind's fitness to
live in perfect harmony, they totally missed the boat --
for one word is the key to human freedom:
"No!" When John Stuart Mill justified free
speech by declaring that it served social utility, he
was deaf to the very principle he was trying to defend
-- the right to defy society, to reject the
greatest good of the greatest number, to pronounce the
word of social treason and of individual liberty:
"No!"
What is it that the Catholic Church fears most? -- the
word "No!" What is it that the Communist
Party drives underground, in desparate revulsion of
anything or anyone that would upset their precious
bureaucracy? -- the word "No!"
In a free society, the essence of freedom is to disagree
with your neighbour. To the extent that you can say
"no" and remain free of legal compulsion, the
society in which you live permits a degree of de
jure anarchy. And if a majority of your neighbours
are legally permitted to vote away that liberty, their
intention is to extinguish the one and only
"absolute freedom" with which you were born --
the freedom to think for yourself and to act in
accordance with the product of self-propelled ingenuity,
knowledge and values.
In any society, at any moment in history, free men swim
against the tide of custom and circumstance. To devise
a social system based on this freedom is the proper goal
of anarchist theory.
On January 9, 1975, a Federal trial judge scratched his
head and searched his mind for a theory that would
explain what he was about to do. Before him stood a
mild-mannered, reasonable young man named Perry
Paegelow, who had to be sent to prison, even though it
was highly doubtful that he had willingly broken the law
-- or, if he had, whether anyone suffered on account of
it. Perry Paegelow had driven me to the spot where
Federal agents arrested me for possessing a paper bag
full of marijuana. Here's what the judge said to Perry
when he sentenced him:
THE COURT: I don't know that marijuana is good or bad
for people. All I know is that the authorities,
Congress, our society, rightly or wrongly, has decided
it is bad for people. They can be wrong.
THE DEFENDANT: I believe they are, sir.
THE COURT: But no one seems to know the answer to these
things, and so we are in the position of trying to
enforce these drug laws, I mean society. Now whether
that is just or not depends on your point of view. I
respect your view, but I don't think it is the law of
the land, and as long as you take the position that you
are going to continue to traffic in these drugs, you
don't give me any choice except to send you to jail.
THE DEFENDANT: I didn't say I was continuing.
THE COURT: You think the law is nonsensical and you are
not going to pay any attention to it, and so, therefore,
certainly the impression I gather is that -- it is --
you don't see any reason to --
THE DEFENDANT: Perhaps nonsensical is the wrong word. I
think it's is blatantly fascist.
Perry was sentenced to serve two years in prison, for
driving a car. I served three years for carrying a
paper bag. But the trial judge put his finger in the
core-issue of social organization. If an offender
doesn't plead contrition and remorse, how can you show
any mercy?
Don't laugh. This is an important issue in our criminal
justice system. If it weren't for the informant who
fingered Perry and myself, it would have been impossible
to bring us to "justice." Informants, stool
pidgeons, snitiches and turncoats put more drug users
behind bars than the undercover and uniformed policemen
combined. And, if it weren't for plea bargains and
sobbing confessions of regret, our prisons would be as
commonplace as grocery stores, one or two in every
neighborhood.
What can you do with people who refuse to recognize the
supremacy of the state? Do we dare to teach our
children the "right of revolution" contained
in the Declaration of Independence?
No. We blind them and stuff their ears, with the logic
of Mugler v Kansas, 123 U.S. 623:
But by whom, or by what authority, is it to be
determined whether (something) will injuriously affect
the public? Power to determine such questions, so as to
bind all, must exist somewhere; else society will be at
the mercy of a few, who, regarding their own appetites,
may be willing to imperil the peace and security of the
many.
It doesn't matter whether the subject-matter of our
discussion is narcotics, or anti-trust law, or an
obstreperous neighbour who might pollute your garden
with crankcase oil. The central issue is the
"power to determine such questions, so as to bind
all." In Mugler, the Supreme Court surprised
no one by deciding that the power to bind all was lodged
in the legislative branch -- the elected representatives
of the will of the people. Unfortunately, this is also
the formula for unlimited folly and persecution.
Socrates and John Locke come to mind, as dissenters who
were hunted down as heretics. But worse, perhaps, is
the routine business of thwarting large minorites. Abe
Lincoln was put into power by 39% of the popular vote,
for example. No wonder we had a Civil War, with 61% of
the electorate denied their "will."
Coincidentally, I spent about a year in Allenwood
F.P.C. with Gordon Liddy -- now there's a fellow who
knows about "will," if anybody does.
Unfortunately, our willfulness can't do much to alter
the fact that the earth orbits the sun, instead of
vice-versa. Nor is one's desire, self-interest,
prejudice or imagination a good set of criteria for
justice. I doubt that anyone would want to see Gordon
elected to high office. He used to sing
"Deutscheland Uber Alles" in the shower and
loved the Nixon White House.
In a sense, this last observation perversely justifies
the American democracy. By and large, we do a pretty
good job of electing people who more or less exhibit the
basic values on which there is a broad consensus. As a
culture, American society is tolerant, sensitive to
minority rights, quite wonderful when it comes to
even-handed treatment of our neighbours. But it is not
perfect.
The case for anarchy turns on whether no government
is better than good government, right?
Not necessarily.
When Franklin Roosevelt abolished private possession of
gold, his attempt to control economic supply and demand
remained maddeningly elusive. Banks refused to make
loans, commercial failures increased, the stock market
took another nose-dive, and government policy-makers had
no choice but to conclude that deficit spending and
"pump-priming" might become a permanent
feature of the American economy (which we have yet to
wean ourselves from, some 50 years later). Clearly the
best government on earth was incompetent to rule the
markets. The Soviets, too, find it difficult to command
the economic performance of their enslaved masses -- so
that we are forced to surmise that oppressive regimes
are no better equipped to "will" prosperity.
Freer societies create more wealth, more opportunity,
more competition and greater diversity. The
19th-century laissez-faire economy outperformed our
20th-century welfare state in every measurable respect
(annual growth, consumer price trends, wage gains). But
these are topics best left to Alan Greenspan. For our
present purposes, we can quit the field of economics by
recalling one of Dr. Greenspan's most memorable remarks,
paraphrasing Gresham's Law -- that "Bad protection
drives out good."
What he meant was that any attempt to replace market
chaos with government controls was doomed to fail in two
respects: (1) The state's mechanism of control would be
worse than "invisible-hand" outcomes; and (2)
It would have a secondary and unintended consequence of
driving other market mechanisms into disarray.
The reason I do not wish to pursue this classical
defense of economic anarchy is simple -- it is a
utilitarian justification, which free enterprise
advocates have droned, shouted and whimpered to the
American people for the better part of a century,
without success. Ayn Rand correctly identified the
locus of failure, namely, the tension between de
facto capitalism and Christian ethics, which
constantly crippled advocates of economic freedom. Her
entire career was devoted to the job of propagating a
morality of selfishness, to give capitalism a spiritual
leg to stand on.
Apart from the questions of utility or effective public
policy, it remains that anarchy is superior to the best
possible sovereign in one respect: it is more logical.
I do not say that anarchy will better serve "the
greatest good of the greatest number" -- in part
because those claims are impossible to measure or test.
I do not claim that any of our existing institutions
(except the pretense of sovereignty) will be radically
altered in an anarchistic society. People will probably
form themselves into local, regional and national
associations, I suppose.
Only one aspect of life must rotate, in order to achieve
constitutional anarchy: our legal system.
If, instead of the United States of America, we were
served by USA Inc. -- a private organization with the
same constitutional officers, agencies and
"stakeholders" -- it is possible that a
squadron of ships could be dispatched to the Persian
Gulf, a prosecution could be leveled against drug
dealers, an offender might be tried and punished; but
they could not pretend to represent the will
of every man, woman and child in America. Without such
a claim, their power would be revealed exactly for what
it is -- de facto supremacy.
No "divine right" holds Microsoft in their
dominant market positon. Yet, it is inconceivable that
any other organization might dislodge them from their
leadership in the computer business.
Surely, the great lesson of the American Revolution is
that our forebears were loathe to snip the bond of
allegiance which bound them to George III and
Parliament, even though these guys were an ocean away
and ill-prepared to compel obedience by the American
colonies. Whether, as a matter of law and justice, the
dominant civic institution is viewed as the
"sovereign" or merely the strongest alliance
of free citizens, the utility of its traditional role in
society will keep it afloat longer than any screwy
theory of democratic or divinely-ordained social
compacts. Neither Hobbes nor Rousseau, Locke, Hegel,
Kant, Oliver Wendell Holmes, or Jerry Falwell has
produced a convincing explanation of how I can be
obligated to a contract I did not sign. It is stupid
and vain to say that one man's consent binds another --
or binds a generation yet to be born.
Since the courts are creatures of government, is it
silly to propose that "sovereignty" be somehow
wiped clean from our law books?
Not necessarily.
Without reciting the complete history of American legal
philosophy, it is highly significant that logic has been
"wiped clean" from legal reasoning:
We are bound to remark that logic as an instrument of
legal reasoning has grown unpopular of late. Any
attempt to rehabilitate it is therefore unlikely to be
received with a great deal of sympathy. The chief
objection to logic in the law is usually expressed in
the form that logical thought processes are rigid and
inflexible, whereas legal reasoning is empirical and
discretionary. This general distrust of logic is
supported by three specific arguments: that decisions
cannot be arrived at simply by deduction from existing
legal principles, that legal rules are too fluid and
uncertain to support logical inferences which could be
drawn from them, and that the whole conception of law as
a single, unitary, logically consistent system is at
least an impractical ideal, if not an illusionary
fetish. (Oxford Essays on Jurisprudence)
Law students enter and leave law school without learning
a lot about justice -- they learn the tricks of a highly
dubious craft: casuistry peppered with theatrical
displays of imagined grievance. If such a course
existed, our next generation of lawyers would be shocked
to learn the truth about what was lost in the stampede
toward "positive law" (i.e., the will of the
sovereign).
17th-century theory had taken two directions. On the
one hand it conceived of rights as the outgrowth of a
social contract. It held that there would be none
without the social organization and that there would be
no justice or law without the political organization,
that is, the state...
On the other hand, there was the Grotian idea of rights
as qualities inhering in persons. This theory put
rights above the state and justice above the state as
permanent, absolute realities which the state was
organized to protect. There was a state because there
were rights and justice to protect and secure. In the
18th century the latter idea definitely prevailed...
18th century juristic thought, down to Kant, holds four
propositions: (1) There are natural rights demonstrable
by reason. These rights are eternal and absolute. They
are valid for all men in all times and in all places.
(2) Natural law is a body or rules, ascertainable by
reason, which perfectly secures all of these natural
rights. (3) The state exists only to secure men in
these natural rights. (4) Positive law is the means by
which the state performs this function, and it is
obligatory only so far as it conforms to natural law.
The appeal is to individual reason. Hence every
individual is the judge of this conformity...
Pushed to its limits, this leads straight to
anarchy. (Pound, 27 Harv. L. Rev., 616)
Pushed to its limits, it leads straight to the
Declaration of Independence -- the fundamental charter
of freedom which no longer speaks for the American
people.
In a brief essay it is impossible to raise and analyse
all the implications of an anarchist society. The
questions, the paradigms, and the practical answers
exist -- but the space does not. Fortunately, I can
conclude this discussion by returning to a topic I
promised to revisit when it was mentioned earlier -- the
problem of war and peace.
It's clear that every one of us has the right to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and that --
whatever else the state has endeavoured to do on our
behalf -- the purpose of national defense ranked first
and foremost in the minds of the Founding Fathers.
Removing the concept of "sovereignty" will not
impede the legal right of the United States, as an
association of free citizens, to make war or conclude
peace. It may or may not complicate the business of
taxation -- with the likely result that our armed forces
could not be deployed throughout the world, for the
unearned benefit of other nations -- but I doubt that we
would go wanting of strategic or tactical preparedness.
Too many citizens and too many corporations have too
much to lose by abandoning their agency of
self-preservation.
But consider how much suffering and turmoil could have
been avoided, had the United States not proclaimed
itself the self-appointed arbiter of democracy.
No Civil War.
No grasping imperialism under Teddy Roosevelt.
No punitive Versailles Treaty to goad the Germans.
No global depression, prolonged by Federal manipulation
of money and credit.
No hysterical division of the globe in the Cold War,
forcing the Russians to arm themselves in parity with an
adversary whom they had no hope of matching.
No "dollar diplomacy" aimed at pushing the
Third World into copy-cat democracies they were
ill-prepared to manage.
No Vietnam.
No half-hearted, wimpy indecision in Nicaragua, trading
arms for hostages in Iran.
Our self-preservation is always a difficult factor to
weigh. But history emphatically links social philosophy
with foreign policy. It's about time we learned to
practice the virtue of self-determination, both at home
and abroad.
Stripping away the flag-waving illusion of
"sovereign state" is an excellent way to
begin. The U.S. Government is a power to be reckoned
with, of course. But it is only a number of men, with
no greater or lesser right to compel a social outcome
than a single infant child of any race, color or creed.
If it is true, in a de facto sense, that "might
makes right," it is equally true that civilization
depends on the slow, steady growth of the rule of law.
Blood-feuds and reprisals are too costly to persist. We
need to settle our disputes by recourse to impartial
tribunals.
And to be impartial, a court must have a basic principle
upon which all men can agree. I say it is this: All men
are created equal.
Our voluntary, consensual intercourse has never been a
problem, and never will. Mankind's agony lies in bloody
conflicts between people who cannot agree. You can pick
up a club and threaten to bash my head in. You can join
a gang, bent on taking my land and bread. You can issue
an edict signed by 10,000 Hottentots or 10 million Jews.
But nothing you can do or say will make it right to
force someone to accede to a "social contract"
which provides that his consent is unnecessary and
irrelevant to an outcome that your gang intends to
enforce.
Murder, by any other name, is still a crime.
Slavery is still slavery -- even when it is openly
practiced by a "sovereign" in the name of the
"public good."
Complaints are everywhere heard from our most
considerate and virtuous citizens ... that the public
good is disregarded in the conflict of rival parties;
and that measures are too often decided, not according
to the rules of justice, and the rights of the minor
party, but by the superior force of an interested and
overbearing majority. (Madison, The Federalist)
Amen, brother, and pass me another round of intellectual
ammunition. It's going to be a long war of attrition in
the struggle for human rights.
