Two Forms of Environmental-Political Imagination: Germany, the United States, and the Clean Energy Transition Two Forms of Environmental-Political Imagination Germany, the United States, and the Clean Energy Transition Nathan S. Chael Stanford University Author Fabienne Tarrant Lori Kohen Huayu Wang Connor Riley Editors Spring 2019 Download full text PDF (52 pages) Abstract The United States and Germany have followed markedly different paths thus far in the 21st century in their efforts to reduce emissions from energy production and thereby combat climate change through national policy. I extend Professor Jedediah Purdy’s notion of the “environmental imagination” to discuss the “environmental-political imagination,” or implicit vision of the environment, politics, and how they ought to be approached and structured, latent in each country’s central 21st-century climate policy initiative. I find that a general spirit of individuation and conflict marks the United States’ modern environmental-political imagination, while a general spirit of collective enterprise and continuity marks Germany’s. A parallel series of examples is used in each country to illustrate this, including understandings of economy and environment, particular forms of energy and landscape, and ideas of leadership and agency, and finally some objections are considered. I. Introduction “‘We’re the first generation to feel the impact of climate change and the last generation that can do something about it.’ And that’s why I committed the United States to leading the world on this challenge.” [1] – President Barack Obama “Dealing with climate change means facilitating and promoting social and economic change in the best possible way. Germanyʼs Energiewende, or energy transition, is an encouraging example of how that can be done, despite all the challenges its details pose. We intend to continue down this route—with everyone on board, including each individual sector of the economy.” [2] – Dr. Barbara Hendricks, former German Minister for Environment, Nature Conservation, and Nuclear Safety “In a world we can’t help shaping, the question is what we will shape.” [3] – Jedediah Purdy These are, to say the least and state the obvious, complicated political times in both the United States and Germany. From the midst of the complexity and chaos, though, at least one emergent trend stands out: there is a widespread sense that Germany is overtaking at least part of the mantle of global leadership that has characterized the United States’ posture towards the world since the fall of the Soviet Union and before. This phenomenon has been particularly pronounced since the election of President Donald Trump in the US—German Chancellor Angela Merkel has since been pointedly labeled the new “leader of the free world” in numerous news outlets[4]—but is surely reflective of deeper and longer-standing political and ideological currents in both nations. In this essay I wish to trace the legal and philosophical contours of this trend in one particular arena: that of environmental policy, and in particular energy policy. German and American environmental attitudes have, and have long had, marked differences, and these attitudinal differences manifest in a correspondingly deep divergence between the two countries’ environmental laws. A particularly rich and currently relevant pair of examples of this historical disparity can be found in the Clean Power Plan in the United States and the Energiewende, Germany’s 21st-century suite of goals and policies aimed at a transition to a low-carbon economy. These recent federal policy efforts to spur a transition to lower-emission energy sources in each country reveal a distinctive set of underlying contemporary notions about what Americans and Germans take the environment and its value to be—what the legal scholar and historian Jedediah Purdy has called “the environmental imagination”[5]—and, relatedly, what they take the role of law to be relative to the environment. That is, what an appropriate set of energy and environmental policies looks like, what the nation is responsible for in combating environmental problems that affect both its own people and other nations, and what roles its different individual and institutional actors ought to have in creating and advancing those policies. Taken together, following Purdy, I label this set of underlying philosophical views connecting the environment, law, state, and society the “environmental-political imagination” of each nation, and later in the paper will have much more to say about this concept. The structure of the essay is as follows. First, I describe the contents of, and, in a pre-philosophical way, tell the stories of a pair of recent environmental laws/policy initiatives, the Clean Power Plan (CPP) in the United States and the so-called Energiewende, or “energy transition,” in Germany. While this pair merely scratches the surface of German and American environmental law, I show that they constitute a particularly significant set of policies, and comprise a particularly rich contrast for the exploration of the two nations’ dominant ways of understanding the intersection of environment and politics. In the paper’s second section I elaborate upon the concept of the environmental-political imagination and its specific utility here, then argue for a particular characterization of the environmental-political imagination that underpins each country’s contemporary energy policy initiative. The claim at which I arrive comprises the central philosophical contention of the essay: a spirit emphasizing the individuation and conflict of different spheres of activity, landscapes, interests, and agents pervades the 21st-century American environmental-political imagination, while across the same set of diverse aspects, the contemporary German environmental-political imagination is marked by a sharply contrasting and equally pervasive spirit of collectivism and continuity. After arguing for this view, in the essay’s third section I articulate and provide short responses to some potential objections to my argument, attempting to clarify and trace some of its ramifications. Before beginning in earnest, a few notes on the paper’s methodology. First, while German and American environmental law and their underlying imaginative ideologies have rich and compelling histories, rather than sustaining a full historical argument here I confine myself mainly to this century’s developments, using the CPP and recent developments in the Energiewende as contemporary lenses onto deeply historical phenomena for the sake of scope and analytical clarity. Where necessary, however, events deeper in history are discussed; it should simply be kept in mind that in a larger sense all current laws and ideologies are inextricably rooted in historical factors. I shall have more to say later about how we might understand this temporal issue. Second, it will doubtless be noted that establishing unquestionable causal linkages between such concrete phenomena as environmental laws and such slippery, implicit ones as “environmental-political imaginations” is a difficult, nigh impossible, exercise, particularly without the benefit of a full historical account. To do so is not my aim. Instead, this essay is meant to provide a form of rational reconstruction: given the issues and policies in question, how they came into being, and the way Germans and Americans both in and outside government think and talk about them, I aim to give the most plausible and revealing characterization of the underlying logics that root them. Some measure of causality running from these imaginative attitudes to the production of the policies at issue is, I believe, necessarily present (as is some causal connection is from earlier law and policy to these recent attitudes), but the paper makes no attempt to account for all the specific social and institutional factors by which such attitudes are mediated before becoming legally manifest. II. The Clean Power Plan and the Energiewende The issue of climate change driven by anthropogenic greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions into the global atmosphere is fundamentally both an economic and environmental one. Carbon dioxide (CO2), the GHG primarily responsible for increasing global temperatures[6], is emitted in fossil fuel combustion that produces electricity and powers industrial equipment, vehicles, and the many other machines of modern economic activity. The historical causal link between CO2 emissions and economic growth is strong and well-documented[7]. In short, emissions-intensive fuels are the lifeblood of today’s global economy; CO2 emissions, economic production, and climate change thus constitute a tightly linked trio of phenomena, and the United States and Germany are quite similar nations in a host of ways closely related to it. Both are highly industrialized nations with immense economic and emissions output: the US economy is the world’s largest, and Germany’s is fourth largest globally and by far the largest in the European Union (EU)[8]. The US and Germany ranked 13th and 19th in the world, respectively, in per capita GDP in 2015,[9] and 3rd and 8th respectively in per capita CO2 emissions in the same year.[10] The structures of the two economies are strikingly similar: while Germany’s economy is somewhat more reliant on industrial production, both derive about 1% of national GDP from agriculture, between 20 and 30% from industry, and the remaining large majority from the service sector.[11] Beyond these basic economic likenesses, the two federal republics maintain immense bureaucratic apparatuses for research, monitoring, regulation and enforcement related to the environment. Both countries founded federal environmental agencies, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in the US and the German Federal Environment Agency (UBA, for its initials in German), in the early 1970s. Both federal-level agencies help set and enforce national-level policy floors that state-level agencies enforce and can augment in their jurisdictions (though, as will be discussed in greater detail, Germany’s federal environment apparatus has expanded significantly since the founding of the UBA).[12] From a distance, then, the two nations appear to share a basic economic and governmental structure relative to environmental issues, with some history in common to boot. Despite social and cultural differences, this might suggest that the United States and Germany would pursue the transition to low-carbon economies based on clean energy along similar pathways. Yet the two nations have in recent years diverged drastically in their federal policy efforts to facilitate this transition. The CPP and Energiewende constitute the central components of this divergence. Though they cannot capture all there is to say on the issue, they provide a striking contrast that will allow for interrogation to its heart. For a brief examination of the facts of each, I turn first to the US and then to Germany. A. The Clean Power Plan The CPP emerged from a context of hesitation and failure on the part of the US government to regulate GHG emissions. In 2007, the Supreme Court in Massachusetts v. EPA ruled that the EPA had the authority and duty, if it found CO2 to be a driver of climate change, to regulate CO2 emissions and thereby combat climate change under the Clean Air Act.[13] The decision, while empowering the EPA to promulgate the rule codifying the CPP eight years later, was actually a defeat for it at the time: the Bush-era EPA did not wish to regulate CO2 emissions, and argued in the case that the Clean Air Act did not cover them. Two years later, legislative efforts to regulate emissions through a “cap-and-trade” scheme similar to the EU’s, wherein a legal limit of GHG emissions is set and emitters can buy and sell permits to emit beneath that cap,[14] failed when the American Clean Energy and Security Act (also known as the Waxman-Markey Bill) passed the House but was never brought to a vote in the Senate. The deadening impact this had on federal climate action, early in Obama’s first term with Democratic majorities in both legislative chambers, was palpable: in Purdy’s view, “when Waxman-Markey failed, a whole generation of reformist thinking went with it.”[15] Frustrated by legislative stagnation, President Obama later directed the EPA to formulate a rule regulating GHG emissions in the power sector.[16] This rule ultimately became the Clean Power Plan, an EPA regulation designed to decrease power-sector CO2 emissions by 32% by 2030, relative to 2005 levels, by instituting emissions guidelines for fossil fuel-fired power plants and directing states to create and implement their own such standards.[17] About 40% of US CO2 emissions came from the power sector in 2005,[18] so other things equal the CPP alone would cut total US emissions over 12% between 2005 and 2030. This would be the largest legally-mandated emissions reduction in US history, and, accordingly, upon its announcement President Obama labeled the CPP “the single most important step America has ever taken in the fight against climate change.”[19] However, backlash to the CPP from industry and political groups was immediate and intense. Also, before the rule could take effect, the Supreme Court issued an order blocking its entry into force until all litigation challenging it was complete.[20] Then, after President Trump took office, he ordered the EPA to review it, and an EPA proposal to repeal it was soon unveiled.[21] While the CPP remains technically alive as of this writing in August 2018, its repeal is expected to be officially complete soon. When that happens, the rule that the Harvard Environmental Law Program has called “the crown jewel of America’s international climate commitments”[22] will be dead before it ever came alive. The CPP was designed to reduce CO2 emissions predominantly by decreasing the use of coal-fired power plants, which have high emissions intensity relative to other energy sources.[23] Market forces, coincidentally, have recently made a major impact in the direction intended by the CPP, as a dramatic shift in energy prices caused by cheap natural gas usage from shale sources has taken place. US CO2 emissions rose steeply from 1990 to 2005, when shale-sourced natural gas hit the market,[24] and have dropped 12% since then.[25] Still, bracketing this fortunate trend, the overall picture of US climate progress is less rosy: annual US GHG emissions remain about 2% greater than they were in 1990.[26] In the absence of any prospect of federal action to aggressively cut emissions, and in light of President Trump’s 2017 decision to withdraw from the Paris Agreement, many cities, states, and private enterprises have taken matters into their own hands and pledged to enforce their own emissions cuts.[27] B. The Energiewende The idea of Energiewende , or “energy transition,” in Germany goes back to the late 1970s and early 1980s, when environmentalist groups opposed to nuclear energy and fossil fuels called for a transformation of Germany’s energy sources in the wake of nuclear plant construction and the 1973 and 1979 oil crises.[28] However, the term did not describe a substantive policy initiative until the turn of the millennium, when Germany’s governing coalition of the Green Party and the center-left Social Democrats began to take widespread action to promote a transition to new forms of energy production. Since the passage of the first Renewable Energy Sources Act in 2000, Energiewende has become shorthand for a vast array of goals and timetables for renewable energy production and emissions cuts, research reports supporting these goals and timetables, and legal requirements enforcing them.[29] The action of the Energiewende is not localized to one federal ministry or even branch of government. Instead, its regulations spring from multiple sources: administratively, the Federal Environment Agency (UBA), the Federal Ministry for the Environment, Nature Conservation, and Nuclear Safety (BMU), and the Federal Ministry for Energy and Economic Affairs (BMWi) all play a part in setting and realizing its goals. The chancellor and legislative branch are heavily involved in Energiewende policy creation as well. The key reports and policy components of the Energiewende are as follows. 2000’s Renewable Energy Sources Act (EEG) guaranteed a twenty-year period of high prices for electricity from renewable sources sold into the grid,[30] and was updated in 2004, 2009, 2012, 2014, and 2017 to increase the law’s renewables targets and adjust its pricing mechanisms.[31] 2007’s Integrated Energy and Climate Programme, also known as the Meseberg decision, approved a package of fourteen new laws and amendments to provide a policy basis for the doubling of Germany’s emissions reductions targets for 2020 from 20 to 40%, compared to 1990 levels.[32] A long-term plan for Germany’s use of various sources of energy in different sectors was approved in 2010 as a cornerstone of the Energiewende ,[33] and in 2014 and 2016 the federal cabinet approved long-term climate action plans for 2020 and 2050, respectively.[34] In addition to CO2 reductions and renewables increases, a central and heavily publicized component of the Energiewende is its move to abolish nuclear energy production in Germany. After the Fukushima nuclear disaster in 2011, in which a magnitude 9.0 earthquake off the coast of Japan triggered a tsunami which caused a meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant, the German government under intense public pressure announced plans to immediately cease operations of eight of its oldest nuclear power plants, with all remaining nuclear plants to be closed by 2022.[35] The Energiewende , for all its progress, has been enormously expensive. Much of the cost of the heavy renewables subsidies has been passed onto consumers: a renewables surcharge on utilities bills has raised the average household’s monthly fee by 50% since 2007.[36] Moreover, the decade-long sprint to close the nation’s nuclear plants necessitates a costly rapid increase in the use of other sources, since Germany has long sourced a large portion of its power supply from nuclear energy.[37] Even beyond costs caused by solar subsidies and cuts to nuclear energy, the Energiewende today faces other challenges: for instance, due to recent rapid economic and population growth, German CO2 emissions reductions have stagnated since 2014 and the country will therefore likely miss its 2020 target.[38] The fact remains, though, that through a concerted policy effort Germany has cut its total CO2 emissions over 26% from its levels in 1990 (the key baseline year for emissions reductions in international climate policy). In absolute terms, it has cut emissions more than any other EU nation since then,[39] and since the passage of the EEG in 2000 it has sextupled its electric power production from renewables, mainly wind and solar, to a full 36% of national supply in 2017.[40] This is an enormous figure by global standards. The Energiewende , though costly and facing obstacles, has made impressive strides. Thus we have two modern, industrialized, immensely productive nations, expected to be regional and global leaders on a variety of issues, with markedly different policy responses to the climate and energy problem: one with a climate policy crafted, immediately challenged, and quickly repealed upon a change of government, and the other making imperfect but steady progress. Furthermore, despite the two countries’ basic similarities, few today would be surprised by this stark contrast. It is generally understood that Germany, to use the jargon of energy policy circles, is “ambitious on climate,” while the United States is not. For the remainder of this paper, I aim to use the facts of these two policy initiatives and their development in order to interrogate this general understanding rather than take it for granted, and thereby go a level or two deeper into the human reasons that might explain why it, and certain facts adjacent to it, hold. Such major differences in the two nations’ contemporary laws on energy and climate provide important loci for insights into the imaginative and ideological characteristics of these nations with respect to politics, law, and the environment. Since these policies mandate (or, in the case of the CPP, attempted to mandate) how they, as states and societies, must respond to climate change, such differences provide comparative lenses onto how Germany and the United States view their relationships to their own populations and other nations that climate change will harm, and to the natural world which provides the resource basis for their economic production and which they in turn affect through greenhouse gas emissions. As Purdy puts it, “Law is a circuit between imagination and the material world”[41]; the laws that exist came about through processes expressing an underlying imagination, and can be expected through the realization of what they require to influence the imagination of the future. Examining this pair of policy initiatives, then, what imaginative structures underlying German and American environmental and political life could help account for this vast difference? III. The Contemporary German and American Environmental-Political Imaginations via the CPP and the Energiewende Before laying out dominant features of the two nations’ environmental-political imaginations, I must briefly elaborate upon the concept of the environmental-political imagination itself, and clarify how it relates to Purdy’s concept of the environmental imagination. Neither concept refers directly to the explicit ideological statements parties make in their environmental platforms, nor theories of the true, the good, or the just in tracts on environmental or political philosophy; as Purdy says, “Imagination is less precise, less worked out, more inclusive than ideas, and it belongs to people in their lives, not philosophers working out doctrines. Imagination is a way of seeing, a pattern of how things must be.”[42] It might be thought of as taking place on the mental level prior to ideology, or as ideology’s raw material. It has to do with the way people, individually and in institutions, think and make assumptions about what exists in nature and the human world, how those things are organized, what is valuable about them, and what ought to be done with them, here in particular with respect to climate and energy, and the collective decision-making proper to the political sphere. It is an implicit, blurry set of notions, perhaps internally contradictory, largely submerged or subconscious, that acts as inputs in the formation of laws and policies that then make explicit what may and may not be done. I borrow this framing of “imagination” from Purdy, but employ it in the discussion of somewhat different material from what is referred to by his concept of the “environmental imagination.” As Purdy uses it, the environmental imagination refers primarily, though not exclusively, to how people understand and act upon the environment at the level of landscape, rather than atmosphere and climate.[43] While Purdy acknowledges that, in the future, different nations or regions might develop their own “ethics and politics of climate change,”[44] he does not examine in a descriptive sense how such different environmental-political imaginations are already at work in different places. My analysis here is meant to fill this gap, to focus on the particular environmental, economic, and political issue of climate change and explore how the US and Germany are in fact seeing and acting upon it by using Purdy’s framing of the environmental imagination as a conceptual starting point. Purdy’s political focus is mainly on how people’s imaginative notions of the environment work their way into political life, since decisions about how to approach and use the environment are made in the political sphere. I wish to inquire further about Americans’ and Germans’ imaginative notions of politics itself: their notions and assumptions about what politics is like, how government ought to be organized and decisions made, and what we owe to others inside and outside the polity. Thus the imagination discussed here is itself both environmental and political. Also, since I shall discuss not only how people imagine the climate or the atmosphere but also how their imaginative notions of the environment—generally, of nature overall—affect their nations’ action on climate specifically, “environmental-political” is more appropriate than “climate-political.” The term thus seemed to be the best fit for a capacious idea that extends Purdy’s notion in a logical way. A. The 21st-Century American Environmental Imagination The contemporary American environmental-political imagination, as seen through the story of the Clean Power Plan, can best be characterized by a sensibility of individuation and conflict. By a sensibility of “individuation,” I mean that there exists a pervasive imaginative stress on the sharp divisions among different problems, parties, and conceptual categories of environment and politics, rather than on their continuities; particularly emphasized is the split between the environmental and the economic spheres. Normatively, there is a corresponding imaginative insistence that starkly individualized approaches to such disjoint issues must be appropriate. By a spirit of “conflict,” I mean that these individuated issues, categories, and parties are often imagined as necessarily at odds with one another: there is a powerful sense that trade-off and adversarial relations are inherent to them and to climate change in particular, and that such conflict cannot be overcome by any sense of reconciliation or unification. Individuation is the more fundamental of the two descriptors here, frequently accompanied with an adversarial tone, since two ideas, issues, outcomes, actors, and so on can only be viewed as conflicting if they are first given sharp individuating boundaries. To illustrate this, I marshal a range of evidence from the CPP and beyond to investigate three aspects of the United States’ environmental-political landscape: its view of the relationship between the categories of the “economic” and the “environmental”; its understanding of particular American landscapes and coal, a particularly significant form of energy; and its latent conception of leadership and agency on climate action. A1. Environment and Economy The American environmental-political imagination contains, first and foremost, an insistence upon a sharp distinction between the economic and environmental spheres. “Economic” and “environmental” are not understood as merely two ways in which to view a larger human-natural system, two modes of its measurement that can be usefully distinguished, but instead as two ontologically distinct categories which in practice ought, so far as possible, to be governed by different procedures and norms. In the context of the CPP, this can be initially seen from the law’s institutional backdrop, the structure of which reflects a sharp conceptual disconnect between economy and environment. President Obama instructed the EPA, and the EPA alone, to prepare what became the CPP.[45] It is true that the EPA was created during a time in American history when recognition of human-environmental interconnection was ascendant,[46] and aids human safety through its insurance of clean air and water, but the EPA is explicitly dedicated to environmental protection alone rather than some larger joint goal of environmental-economic harmony. The implicit assumption in much of its work is that the environment is distinct from the economy and other human spheres and will need to be guarded against them. Some EPA officials have even suggested that the EPA has done its job of ensuring clean air and water too well, such that many Americans lose sight of ways in which economic production impacts the environment.[47] Conversely, the US Department of Commerce, the cabinet ministry that proclaims to be tasked with just “one overarching goal: Helping the American Economy Grow”[48] (emphasis in the original), mentions no environmental, ecological, or sustainability concerns in any of its five strategic pillars that support its central aim. Thus in the executive branch’s structure, the concepts of environment and economy are thoroughly and formally separated. The Department of Energy (DOE) might be expected to mediate the two, but it has a strong defense and pure research bent: at once handling nuclear weapons research, nuclear energy research and operations, and clean and fossil energy research. These specifics of bureaucratic organization may seem somewhat arbitrary, but they dictate both how federal agencies’ fields of action are defined and approached and how official discourse regarding those fields is expressed in public. I submit that both of these have significant consequences for how Americans perceive environmental, economic, and energy issues and their nation’s ways of handling those issues. In the context of this division of labor, President Obama’s executive assignment of the CPP’s preparation to the EPA alone appears symbolic of where climate change fits into the American environmental-political imagination, representing the official assignment of US action on climate change to the environmental sphere alone rather than the economic one. The huge backlash against the CPP illustrates the conflictual, not merely individuating, nature of this aspect of the environmental-political imagination:[49] many perceived the CPP as a conferral of environmental benefits and therefore also a sentence of concomitant economic sacrifice and degradation. A host of challenges were immediately raised against the proposed law, and the ensuing political warfare was intense.[50] This is deeply ironic in light of the fact that the government’s own study of the Clean Power Plan indicated that, in fact, due to long-term increases in energy efficiency, savings on climate adaptation costs, and savings on health expenditures due to reducing vast quantities of harmful fumes like sulfur dioxide in the air, it would likely have saved the US billions per year by 2030 relative to the status quo.[51] Much has been made of the idea that organizations like fossil fuel companies, many of which stand directly to lose from a transition to low-emission energy sources and lobbied hard against the CPP,[52] are the real villains preventing America’s energy transition. Coal and oil companies certainly lobbied hard against the CPP and may have played a large role in spreading the notion that emissions reductions, like environmentally beneficial policies generally, necessarily conflict with economic benefits. However, it was not merely these companies that voiced their concerns: amid both an outpouring of support for and backlash against the proposed rule, the EPA received over 4.3 million comments on it in six months.[53] Much has also been made of the deep partisan divide on belief in and concern about climate change itself,[54] which tracks the two parties’ divergent emphasis on action to protect the environment and action to aid the economy. This divide was clearly visible in the battle over the CPP, for instance, when the 11 Senate Republicans of the Environment and Public Works Committee issued a letter in support of repealing the CPP in 2017 that made no mention of the environment or climate change. That letter mentioned only “the pervasive, negative effects [the CPP] would have had on Americans across the country. The CPP would have driven up energy prices, eliminated American jobs, and hurt local communities that depend on coal.”[55] Importantly, though, the imagined conflict between economic and environmental benefits on climate change policy cannot be merely a result of American partisanship: that Democrats and Republicans predictably gravitated to their sides of that conflict on the Clean Power Plan means that the idea of the environmental-economic conflict itself was already generally accepted, and action to counteract climate change has simply been imaginatively sorted mainly into the pro-environment rather than pro-economy category (this is not to say, however, that both parties are exactly equally narrow-minded in their understanding of climate change). The imagined disconnection and conflict between the two spheres is thus fertile ground for, rather than a simple output of, increased partisan division. Also, while I will not examine the American imagination of markets in depth here, there seems to be a notable similarity between the way Americans notionally separate the economy and the environment and the well-recognized way they notionally separate markets and government intervention in the economy. It seems that in America, pro-environment action is imagined as government interference into the workings of the market, and for that reason is anti-economic. This is despite the fact that in practice governments always set the rules of the market in the first place, and that in many cases, like the CPP, government action would increase overall economic welfare in the context of the market’s failure to internalize all costs. That the CPP’s emissions reductions would actually save America money and relieve it of immense human suffering in the long term might have saved it in another time or place, but could not in the contemporary United States. A2. Coal and Landscape Beyond the pronounced economic-environmental distinction, another form of individuation prominent in the American environmental-political imagination and visible in the narrative of the CPP is the uniqueness assigned to the landscape of America’s coal mining country, along with an associated imaginative privileging of coal miners themselves and their imagined conflict with nature to extract its energy. This reflects a more general American notion that a sharp definitional line ought to be drawn between particular landscapes, and between them and humankind, a notion easily recognizable in American lore and law historically; one example of this is the Wilderness Act of 1964, which provided for protected, isolated areas that would remain “untrammeled by man” and would each keep their “primeval character” in spite of an expanding, modernizing population.[56] However, in the realm of energy production, a somewhat different individuating mood is at work than in wilderness protection, one that associates specific energy resources with specific landscapes and imagines a zero-sum conflict for primacy between them. The CPP would have achieved its emissions reductions mainly through cuts in the use of coal-fired power plants.[57] As the letter from the Republicans of the Senate Committee for Environment and Public Works illustrates, a key source of opposition to the CPP was a sentiment that the nation’s jobs in coal production must be politically protected. As with the CPP cost-benefit analysis indicating that in the long term the plan would actually have been economically profitable, here too there is a deep and ironic seed of irrationality; just over 160,000 Americans work in coal production, less than half of the number involved in the fledgling solar industry, which the CPP would have benefited,[58] and coal production has already steeply declined because of market forces alone, with cheap natural gas largely supplanting it since 2005.[59] Simple interest-group politics are always, of course, a factor, and support for coal jobs as a public position is due in large part to the rhetoric of President Trump, who has thrust coal production incessantly into the political arena, making it a more partisan issue and implicitly highlighting its racial associations (and, though not discussed extensively here, race is yet another sphere of deep divisions in the American environmental-political imagination, as, for instance, the work of the environmental justice movement has sought to show).[60] However, as Republicans and Democrats seized upon rather than created an imagined fundamental conflict between the economic and environmental spheres, President Trump seized upon rather than created the American glorification of the coal industry and its imagined battle with forms of energy hostile to it. Many Americans view coal miners as an interest group with a special claim to reverence, in some sense especially American, their connection to coal country’s lifeways and landscape that is morally and aesthetically unimpeachable even as they level its mountains and plumb its depths for the dirtiest fossil fuel available. Our version of fascination with and elevation of coal is uniquely American. Millions of Americans outside of coal country are able to glorify coal production imaginatively, thanks in part to the very fact that they have never been to coal country, because coal is closely associated with one of America’s many distinct, individuated landscapes, cultures, and forms of productive connection to the environment. Oil is certainly imaginatively American, in the sense that it can make one rich quickly. But no other source of energy evokes the sort of hardscrabble, manful battle with nature that coal does, up in the mountains and away from the friendly confines of civilization. Actual coal production, of course, is much less attractive than it is imagined to be in its symbolic overcoming of an unfriendly nature: as Purdy notes, “mountaintop-removal mining dynamites hills and hollows into a flat, treeless terrain and buries many hundreds of miles of Appalachian streams.”[61] But politically, huge swaths of the country lionize it for its imaginative associations, and even those who resist this celebration must engage with and seek to erode that picture of it. The point is not that no Americans recognize that burning coal pollutes the atmosphere intensely and that relatively few Americans actually make their living in its industry; it is that the fact that the US has been collectively unable to privilege other goals, such as combating climate change through the CPP, over its glorification of the unique landscape and culture of coal bespeaks a deep temperamental inclination toward the particular and the adversarial in the way the nation imagines what ways of relating to the environment ought to be honored and preserved. Coal also plays a role in the notion of the US as particular and individuated itself because of the role it plays in contributing to US energy independence. The US, despite what political advertisements advocating drilling in yet another remote wilderness might have you believe, is highly energy-independent—on net importing just 7% of its total energy use.[62] This fact provides one strut undergirding the spirit of individuation latent in how the nation views itself globally on climate change. In keeping with its degree of energy independence, there is little sense that the country is truly indebted to other nations in the energy arena. A logic therefore prevails that, politically, it is the United States’ right to individuate itself in the international discourse on climate change. This is true even prior to Donald Trump’s explicit protectionism and withdrawal from the Paris Agreement, an ultimate act of individuation; the resonance of his “America First” message, despite its multiple valences, can at least partially be attributed to a widespread sentiment that America is not necessarily dependent on the rest of the globe and can therefore act on its own terms in international affairs. Accordingly, when it is not refusing to participate on a particular issue, it is seen by much of its own population and government as the proper global leader on that issue. This is true of America’s action on climate change through the Clean Power Plan, and I therefore turn now to sketching the particular ideal of American leadership on climate change manifest in the law’s progression. This ideal is glory-seeking and exceptionalist, placing the US on an imagined pedestal above the other nations attempting to reduce emissions. A3. Leadership and Agency While setting about repealing the CPP, the Trump administration has made an extravagant claim about American leadership on climate change: that, because it cut emissions more than any other nation in 2017, it is therefore “leading the world” on addressing climate change overall.[63] These claims are transparently based on bad-faith: the US is the world’s second-largest emitter, far ahead of third place and only behind China that has coal-fired its way to yearly emissions increases since 2000,[64] so any proportionally nontrivial American emissions cut in 2017 was likely to be the world’s largest in absolute terms that year. Moreover, this “world’s largest” title is just one year old, and is due basically entirely to market forces making it increasingly uneconomical to use coal[65] even as the Trump administration attempts to prop it up through the repeal of the CPP. Nonetheless, Trump’s administration is not the only one in the CPP era to loudly proclaim American climate and energy leadership when the full facts of the situation did not support it. As noted in the paper’s epigraph, Obama claimed upon announcement of the CPP that he was “[committing] the United States to lead the world on this issue.”[66] In hindsight, given Trump’s cancellation of the CPP and withdrawal of the US from the Paris Agreement, Obama’s idealistic portrayal of the CPP as a legal and political commitment to US climate leadership may look like little more than a cruel joke of history, a genuine and dignified gesture of America’s desire to lead for the greater good twisted into a dark irony by a shift in the political winds. Even at the time, it made little sense in light of how much had been accomplished in other portions of the developed world: by 2015, Germany had 15 years of experience with renewable energy tariffs, had set 2020 climate targets, and the whole EU had agreed on 2030 targets with a decade of emissions trading experience behind it.[67] Obama’s insistence on American leadership despite this mountain of evidence indicating that the US was far from a position to lead on emissions reductions is therefore revealing. He was certainly aware of how truly far behind America was in 2015 on climate action, but singular American leadership was nonetheless a central thrust of his pitch of the CPP to the American people. Obama’s rhetoric reflects an American sensibility that, on environmental issues like all others, the US must be unique, particular, special, glorious. This sense of entitlement to climate leadership on the global stage manifests today not in widespread federal government action, but in the individual person of the president. The unilateral actions of Presidents Obama and Trump on the CPP—Obama singly directing the EPA to create it, Trump singly directing the EPA to review and replace it—express, despite their different circumstances, a sense of deserved presidential individuality: that is, a right to define America’s international climate leadership in one’s own way regardless of its previous instantiations. Beyond making for less stable policy, this feature of contemporary American climate politics has the effect of being, if not anti-democratic, only minimally democratic: whichever section of the population elected the last president gets to determine policy on climate and energy, regardless of later public opinion[68] and congressional intervention aside. Any major climate action requires governmental leadership, but the current American version, with its current structure of top-down leadership, leaves little room for individual Americans to play a major role in a clean energy transition. They are simply not viewed as important actors in this context. Their support is not needed, and political leaders do not think to call upon them to help in direct action on climate and energy. Even when Obama did connect environmental concerns, economic ones, and ordinary Americans in his rhetoric on the CPP, he argued merely that it would help keep energy “reliable and affordable for American businesses and families,”[69] which is not exactly a moving call to purposeful collective action on an issue of immense national and global importance. Meanwhile, while millions of Americans, mainly along partisan lines, recognize climate change as a serious problem and some individuals among them have achieved success in discussing it an environmental, economic, and political issue,[70] there has been no grassroots climate movement that has been successful in shifting the national conversation overall or forcing government action. Obama’s unilateral move to force action in a government gridlocked along party lines is ample evidence of this point. A true change in the American popular consciousness analogous to, say, what followed Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring seems out of reach on climate in this moment. Ironically, then, the general pattern of individuation of, and emphasis upon the political import of, distinct institutional actors, relevant landscapes, and concepts of different human and environmental spheres in the American environmental-political imagination fails to elevate the individual himself or herself. Thus a particularly executive-focused version of what is often labeled “American exceptionalism” plays a prominent role in the American environmental-political imagination of climate, as seen through the story of the CPP. But an idea of American exceptionalism is not the fundamental category in that imagination; instead, it fits into its larger spirit of partitioning and antagonism among different notional elements, a sense that—despite the idea that climate change ought to be siloed in the environmental sphere and ought to have no claim on activities outside it—the United States must stand alone at the head of the world’s climate change-battling ranks. This imagination is thus both particular to the environmental-political realm and simultaneously reflective of well-recognized aspects and assumptions of American cultural life. Perhaps nothing captures this better than that the US’s spirit of partition and individuation is not an admission of limitation in each partitioned sphere, whether it be the realm of international affairs, executive leadership, the economic sphere, the environmental, or one of the many landscapes Americans insist upon as particularly special. Instead, this partition bespeaks the idea that by conceptually and legally separating each from the other, the US can grasp the infinite in each; it needs not face limitation; it can have its cake and eat it too. This truth of the environmental-political imagination holds now but is profoundly historically rooted: as Purdy notes, “American democracy had taken shape in historically unique exemption from the basic problem of modern and democratic politics: the problem of managing conflicting interests and values in a world of relative scarcity.”[71] That foundational thread is still clearly visible today. B. The German 21st-Century Environmental Imagination In a deep contrast to its American counterpart, the essential spirit of the contemporary German environmental-political imagination, as viewed through the lens of the Energiewende , can be described by a spirit of continuity and collectivism. The German environmental-political imagination is marked by a sensibility that highlights the ways that humans and the environment are interconnected, believes that all sectors of the human population can (indeed, can only) progress by stewarding nature responsibly, and responds with a persistent, determined concentration upon collectively undertaken gradual reforms designed to benefit domestic society, provide leadership to global society, and preserve nature all at once. In some sense, this notion is similar to the ecological form of the American environmental imagination that Purdy describes, dominant in the latter part of the 20th century,[72] but it is more expansive: it does not merely attempt to capture a fact about how the natural world and humankind are necessarily continuous with each other, but extends also to how different sectors of the human population are interdependent, both inside and outside Germany, and is charged with a forward-looking normative temperament that emphasizes social solidarity in collective action both across society and across time. In order to parallel the American case, I again explore how the economic and environmental spheres are imagined to relate to one another, how culturally important forms of energy and landscape play into prevailing beliefs about how the Energiewende ought to be managed politically, and how leadership on reducing emissions is viewed. As in the American case, critical interpretation of the discourse and structure of government provides the primary evidence base, but a range of other sources, like political party platforms to public opinion polling, supports this characterization as well. B1. Environment and Economy The way the Energiewende is discussed by its prominent advocates, policy leaders, and involved government ministries generally integrates humanity and nature, conceptually fusing notions of what benefits the German economy and what benefits the climate and environment. It evinces a recognition of the interconnectedness of human and environmental systems and an ethic of responsible stewardship of both simultaneously, with neither given fundamental priority, even as it eschews the tone of more traditionally environmentalist rhetoric emphasizing a profound spiritual interconnectedness of man and nature. For example, the very name of 2007’s Integrated Climate and Energy Action Programme, even as it heads a highly technical package of legislation that lays out specific binding mechanisms for Germany’s transition to clean energy, suggests continuity between the natural climate system and humanity’s economic system. The government’s announcement of this package of legislation makes explicit the perspective of unified economic and environmental goals that the name suggests: “The German government's guiding principles for energy policy remain the three objectives of security of supply, economic efficiency and environmental protection.”[73] In the government’s view, these objectives, while they can be usefully distinguished, are not in a deeper sense truly distinct and competitive, with ever-unavoidable trade-offs that must be weighed and decided. If in some cases trade-offs are present, they are not allowed to distract from the larger continuity of the economic and environmental spheres; individuation and competition do not constitute an imaginative focus. Instead, economic ends and climate action are understood as mutually reinforcing: “Efficient climate protection modernises the economy and society.”[74] This language of modernization is telling: in the German environmental-political imagination, human and environmental interconnectedness does not demand the abandonment of current technology or a return, even temporarily, to a pre-industrial way of being, as the American romantic imagination might have it.[75] Instead, humanity can become more modern even as it effectively stewards nature, and along with economic-environmental interconnectedness there is a continuity between today’s Germans and future generations, to whom Germans owe fair treatment. [76] The name of 2010’s Energy Concept for an Environmentally Sound, Reliable, and Affordable Energy Supply (henceforth simply Energy Concept) similarly weaves together economic and environmental goals. The Energy Concept describes a plan to attempt to achieve both, arguing that emissions reductions are not just helpful but fundamental for German economic success, and proclaiming that “a high level of energy security, effective environmental and climate protection and the provision of an economically viable energy supply are necessary for Germany to remain a competitive industrial base in the long term”[77] (emphasis mine). The government’s Climate Action Programme 2020 claims that “Germany benefits from its pioneering role in climate change mitigation. The technical, cultural and social innovations it entails create added value especially for small and medium-sized companies.”[78] Such examples of federal agencies proclaiming the economic benefits of climate change-combating emissions reductions are, in short, abound. However, notably, despite the extensive discussions of the Energiewende ’s potential benefits for the German economy in government publications, none appear to assert economic health as the fundamental reason for why the Energiewende is worthwhile. The vision is instead one of a healthy, collective balance of economic and environmental goals that are irreducibly worthy and in some ways inextricable. Parallel to how American federal agencies institutionally embed the imaginative view of economy and environment as sharply individuated seen in the narrative of the CPP, the German institutional setup reflects a perception of them as integrated, with neither given explicit priority over the other. For example, rather than having a single agency for environmental protection to which CO2 emissions regulations are assigned, in Germany three agencies split the bulk of the Energiewende : the Federal Environment Agency (UBA), the Federal Ministry for Environment, Nature Conservation, and Nuclear Safety (BMU), and the Federal Ministry for Energy and Economic Affairs (BMWi). Although divisions between these bureaucracies are helpful for defining which organization focuses on which aspect of the Energiewende, there is clear continuity in the categories and the goals relative to which emissions, sustainable development, and climate are discussed across agencies, as the quotations from multiple agencies in the reports cited above illustrate. The Energy Concept, for instance, was prepared jointly by the BMU and BMWi. The economy is not entirely treated as linked to the environment—there is also a ministry for economic cooperation and development, and of course one for finance[79]—but the BMWi’s deep involvement in the Energiewende shows that on energy issues the economy is not seen as a removed and independent entity to be managed apart from its inescapable linkage points with the natural world, nor is the environment to be managed without due consultation of economic experts. The institutional realization of these viewpoints came early in the Energiewende era, with departmental reorganization in 2005. Also, constitutionally, the German system is conceptually friendlier to the objective of environmental protection than the American one, and has become even more so in recent history. For example, since 1949 the Grundgesetz (GG), Germany’s Constitution, has provided for the “protection of the natural foundations of life and animals” by executive, legislative, and judicial action, with explicit reference to the nation’s responsibility to future generations.[80] A round of GG reform was completed in 2006, granting the federal government more powers in environmental policymaking.[81] German constitutional tradition also allows for the subordination of private property to environmentally protective uses on the basis of social welfare and human interconnectedness: “The potential obligation to ‘sacrifice’ [one’s] property rights to public needs derives from the concept of a ‘situational commitment of the property’ that follows from the view of man as an individual who is dependent on society.”[82] Thus it appears that a German perspective of environmental and economic solidarity is deeply built into the German legal and political consciousness,[83] with neither sphere deserving of absolute priority, and the legal foundations of this view have evolved alongside the Energiewende overall. By contrast, in the absence of explicit constitutional discussion of how nature is to be safeguarded, in the US environmental protection has been defined primarily with reference to and in implicit subordination to the economy: the major US environmental laws derive their constitutional power from the Commerce Clause’s permission for the regulation of interstate commerce.[84] In addition to the foundational structure of the German government that evinces a prevailing integrative imagination of the environment, society, and how they should be legally approached in the Energiewende , several other popular sources suggest a similar conceptualization. One is the ways political parties express themselves in their bids for citizen support. That the Green Party has been influential since the beginning of the Energiewende , and governed in a coalition with the Social Democrats, is a powerful statement of a popular German belief that environmental considerations should be built into political decision-making. Even more revealing, though, is the stance of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU),[85] Angela Merkel’s pro-business, center-right party. While the Republicans in the US have understood 21st-century pro-business conservatism to require general opposition to new environmental protections, the CDU has since 1978 included an environmental pillar alongside its three core party pillars focusing on economic growth. The phrase they used when adding this pillar was “quality-oriented growth,”[86] conveying the notion that proper economic progress and proper environmental stewardship are intertwined. That year’s platform included the following statement articulating how the party viewed the connection between freedom and responsibility, and the social interconnectedness between generations: “The conservation of our life support system is part of the responsible liberty. He who now irresponsibly exploits this system and alters the environmental relationship damages the solidarity between generations.”[87] In 1989, the CDU advocated a tax on CO2 emissions in keeping with an explicitly religious desire to properly care for Creation.[88] All this—which would sound confidently liberal, if not outright radical in the United States—stemmed from Germany’s main conservative party, which has been the one constant in a series of coalitions overseeing the Energiewende from the German Parliament since 2005. Thus, while highly visible in the policy prescriptions of the Energiewende since the turn of the century, the interconnected German imagination I describe has its roots in long-held popular understandings of what nature is and is for, how economic growth ought to be understood, and how citizens of different social stations and ages bear responsibilities to one another. B2. Nuclear, Coal, and Landscape Like as with the passage of and response to the CPP, particular sources of energy and their associations with culture and landscape have figured prominently in the story of the Energiewende . In Germany, both nuclear energy and coal have been hotly debated. Nuclear energy has been at the center of discussion because of a tension between its convenient lack of emissions and popular sentiment against it, and coal for the exact opposite reasons: its high emissions and historical association with German identity. Unlike the executive-led course reversal in the American case constituted by the CPP repeal, however, the German response to these difficulties has been to alter its path to the Energiewende ’s original goal of emissions reductions by phasing out nuclear energy and reducing the use of coal.[89] In doing so, Germany has collectively displayed a persistence and willingness to sacrifice for the sake of the demands it believes follow from its interconnectedness with nature and with other nations. The abolition of nuclear energy in particular illustrates the political strength of German emphasis on interconnectedness, in multiple senses beyond the previously discussed environmental-economic linkage. Strong anti-nuclear sentiment in Germany dates back decades. In the 1970s and early 1980s, local activist movements sprang up to oppose the construction of nuclear power plants on the basis of concerns about pollution of beloved local landscapes like the Saxony wine country. These movements occurred alongside a spirit of grassroots opposition to a view of the military, the nuclear industry, and a too-powerful state as noxious bedfellows.[90] In fact, the original use of the term“Energie-Wende” came in the title of a pamphlet imagining “Growth and Prosperity without Oil and Uranium.”[91] In 1986, the Chernobyl disaster occurred in nearby Ukraine, increasing fears of nuclear energy and support for the anti-nuclear Green Party.[92] More recently, in 2000 the parliamentary coalition of the Greens and Social Democrats passed a law planning the gradual phase-out of nuclear energy.[93]However, Angela Merkel’s CDU reversed this decision when it swept into power in 2009, arguing that, as a zero-emissions energy source, nuclear power would be valuable for achieving the Energiewende’s emissions reductions targets as a “bridging technology” that would “[pave] the way for the age of renewable energy” by acting as a buffer against both high fossil fuel emissions and high renewables costs.[94] Thus there were two schools of thought: one Green, activist, and anti-nuclear, in favor of nuclear phase-out for the purposes of environmental friendliness and more localized energy production, the other in favor of nuclear energy with the an established and pragmatic consideration of the costs of the Energiewende , and pro-nuclear, at least for the near future. Then, in 2011, the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster hit Japan. Days afterward, Angela Merkel gave a speech announcing that Germany would be immediately closing eight nuclear plants and would shutter the rest by 2022. Given that roughly 30% of German electricity was nuclear-powered at the start of the millennium,[95] and that nuclear energy had been reinvigorated by Merkel’s initial rise, such rapid closure represented a sudden and radical shift. On its face, such a strong German reaction to a Japanese disaster thousands of miles away seems surprising. Fundamentally, however, this German response to Fukushima was about an imagination of international interconnectedness, the reawakened ability of the population and government to imagine a similar disaster happening in Germany. As Merkel put it, “In Fukushima we have to take note that even in a high-tech country like Japan”—and thus a country like Germany—“the risks of nuclear energy cannot be controlled safely.”[96] Ironically, the factors to blame for Fukushima, which were a magnitude 9.0 earthquake at sea and a resultant tsunami crashing into nuclear plants on the shore of the open ocean, are not comparable risk factors for Germany, something Merkel even acknowledged.[97] But that was not the point, nor was it the point that Germany produced far less nuclear energy than some other advanced high-tech nations, like France and the US, which did not move to shutter their plants after Fukushima. The point was that Germans viewed their own destiny as remarkably bound up with the rest of the world’s, to the extent that a nuclear catastrophe in east Asia meant a whole nation’s nuclear supply in west-central Europe must be shut off. This rapid phase-out of a well-established, zero-emissions fuel source makes achieving the near-term emissions cuts targets of the Energiewende difficult, and doing so cost-effectively even more so.[98] But, at least as of 2015, opposition to nuclear energy remained high, with one poll showing 81% of Germans still in outright opposition to it.[99] Germany’s environmental-political imagination thus has its headstrong elements. That the nuclear phase-out is discussed as central to the Energiewende even though the phase-out makes the central Energiewende goal of fast, hefty emissions cuts much more difficult indicates that a larger integrative vision of how Germany should relate to its neighbors and to the environment drives both denuclearization and decarbonization. Coal, another energy source with a potent imaginative valence of landscape and environment in Germany, was also discussed at the coining of the term Energiewende in the early 1980s. However, unlike nuclear energy, the use of coal was celebrated rather than attacked. Since coal is a particularly “dirty” fuel, in that it emits more CO2 per unit of heat energy produced than other common fossil fuels,[100] such celebration may seem puzzling now, in the context of an Energiewende focused on reducing emissions. However, at the time, the goal of reduced emissions was less clarified, and instead coal was promoted because of its particularly German flavor. The use of heimische Kohle, or “domestic coal,” in place of oil was promoted, where heimische is a version of “domestic” that carries particular warm connotations of the German homeland. Germany has long gotten, and still gets, a huge proportion of its electric power from its vast coal reserves. It remains the world’s largest producer of lignite, a particularly inefficient and dirty form of coal.[101] But, unlike in the US, where the current government has dubiously pitched its replacement for the CPP as a savior for the coal industry, despite American coal’s uneconomically high cost relative to natural gas,[102] Germany has shown itself to be willing to move away from coal despite its historic connotations, its current potential utility in an energy transition complicated by the nuclear phase-out, and its home sourcing in a nation largely dependent on Russia for other fossil fuels. But the emissions reductions logic is clear: as the country’s 2050 Climate Action Plan states, “It will only be possible to meet the climate targets if coal-fired electricity production is gradually reduced.”[103] Accordingly, the country has formed an executive commission to oversee the phase-out of coal, and to ensure it is done in an inclusive way that will allow for a transition for its former workers and regions.[104] What explains this willingness to leave coal behind? I contend that, imaginatively, this readiness stems from an inward-facing sense of continuity and collectivism that complements the outward-facing form that motivated the nuclear phase-out decision after Fukushima. Unlike in the US, where coal is associated with one specific, romanticized landscape and culture over any other, in Germany heimische Kohle is not romanticized to the same extent. This is not to say the German coal industry has not battled the Energiewende, but it lacks the comparative political support of the US industry, and the resulting political mood is far different. Today, amid the effort to forge a new, more modern national energy identity, the old ideal of self-reliance from national coal production has lost its sway as Germans generally prefer to see a modern country unified in the face of climate change, a collective pursuing a responsible Energiewende. They celebrate the connections between landscape and society other ways, like in the country’s fifteen recently established UNESCO biosphere reserves which celebrate a balanced relationship of nature and humankind, and its many nature parks that preserve cultural, historical, and environmental sites together.[105] Germans have become quite confident on this issue: as Rainer Baake, a deputy minister of the BMWi, said bluntly in an interview with The New York Times when asked about high energy costs, “The energy transformation in Germany will be carried out by two main sources—those are wind and solar.”[106] B3. Leadership and Agency Leadership on the energy transition in Germany has long had a public face with deep experience on environmental issues: As Germany’s minister for the environment, Angela Merkel (sometimes called the “Climate Chancellor”)[107] presided over the first-ever UN conference on climate change, held in Berlin in 1994.[108] However, that Germany happened to elect an experienced former environmental minister as chancellor for the best part of the century’s first two decades is far from the whole story of the idea of leadership in the Energiewende. This section more deeply examine the components of leadership and agency in Germany’s environmental-political imagination: who it sees as responsible for taking action, what latitude leading agents have to change the course of existing initiatives, the nature of Germany’s participation on environmental issues in the international sphere, and the values that implicitly drive these understandings. It argues that a collectivist view of leadership focused on reciprocity and persistence prevails, in which each sector of German society (particularly individual citizens) is both empowered and expected to take action that furthers the Energiewende. The federal government is respected in its role as overseer of the Energiewende, but is expected to provide a fair deal from which all will benefit as a result. Internationally, Germany imagines itself as an environmental first mover that leads by example, its internal collective action a display of good-faith responsibility that ought to spur trust and reciprocity in the larger collective of nations. As in the United States, an important portion of Germany’s direction on climate and energy policy comes from the top. Chancellor Merkel has acquired a reputation as a forceful climate hawk, and, as much of this essay’s sourcing thus far has shown, hierarchical federal ministries set a great deal of Energiewende policy. But the way figures at the top discuss the action of the Energiewende makes clear that they conceive of it as necessarily a collective endeavor. Merkel, when announcing Germany’s retreat from nuclear energy, put it this way: “All of us, government and opposition, federal, state and local governments, society as a whole, every single one of us, all of us, if we do it properly, can combine ethical responsibility with economic success in this future project. This is our shared responsibility.”[109] Dr. Barbara Hendricks, then head of the BMU, wrote in her foreword to the 2020 Climate Action Programme that “All of us—all areas of industry and all individuals—have to step up to the plate.”[110] One way this collective spirit manifests is in the federalist relationship between the central government and the Länder, the German states. Whereas the CPP’s direction of each state to develop its own scheme for CO2 emissions reductions set off near-immediate battles in court about whether this fragmented approach constituted “bread-and-butter federalism” or gross federal overreach, the German chancellor and minister for energy and economic affairs meet twice yearly with the heads of all of the sixteen Länder to discuss Energiewende policy implementation and enjoy a close and generally functional, if not frictionless, relationship.[112] A rhetorical approach framing reciprocal collective participation as necessary for a successful Energiewende prevails especially strongly with respect to individual Germans. As one BMU report puts it, “Particularly here [in the Energiewende ] it is therefore important to create opportunities for the public to get involved and to support people in becoming aware of their scope for action...Climate action depends far more than any other policy area on the active involvement of as many people as possible.”[113] The government says that rather than asking individuals to sacrifice their own time and resources to reduce emissions, it will provide opportunities for citizen participation such that they themselves benefit.[114] Furthermore, the government has pledged to cut its own emissions to demonstrate its own responsibility and commitment to the cause.[115] Its statements of support for a ground-up Energiewende have, so far, been more than just so much grassroots talk: a cornerstone incentive of the push for emissions cuts has been the Renewable Energy Sources Act’s high federally subsidized prices, guaranteed for renewable energy sold to the grid by small-scale producers like individuals, households, and local co-ops.[116] Early in the century, the government promoted the adoption of small-scale photovoltaic (PV) solar installations with the so-called “100,000 Roofs” initiative, which provided government loans for people to buy rooftop solar systems. Germans have responded by engaging: by 2003, the program was successfully completed,[117] and by the end of 2017 there were 1.6 million PV installations nationwide,[118] with over 40% of total renewable capacity owned by citizens.[119] Much of this subsidizing has aided rural areas in particular, with farmers coming to own a greatly disproportionate percentage of PV installations and the generally conservative farmers’ association pushing the CDU to greater support of the Energiewende .[120] The mere thought of today’s rural, conservative Americans strongly supporting federal climate change policy illustrates both how vast the gulf is between Germany and the US on this issue and how powerful subsidies can be. For the most part, then, the German population does not aid its country’s climate policy as a sacrifice: it does so while gaining generous federally-designed benefits. But this profitability is part of the nation’s imagination of climate change as an integrated social-environmental problem that offers the opportunity to progress and modernize. The Energiewende is not fully democratic, per se, since the executive branch of the federal government from the beginning has played a strong role in setting its policies, but it has become truly collective in its implementation and its expansion of renewable energy enjoys 95% popular support.[121] Thus, in its rhetoric and action, Germany has to a significant extent successfully cast climate change not merely as an international political issue but as a collective German one, and as an opportunity to be addressed by the fulfillment of a social contract. Everyone must do their part, and accordingly, the benefits will be reaped by all. Unlike the autocratic “picking [of] winners and losers”[122] which the CPP was imagined to be by many in the US, the Energiewende is an “an investment in our own future.”[123] The understanding of this investment transcends the merely financial. For instance, the environment ministry stresses the need not just for technical research and development, but social and cultural research to increase understanding of “how people perceive climate change, what consequences it has for their lives, and...how all sections of the population can be included and social acceptance fostered.”[124] This sort of holistic environmental-political idea—linking often-separated human categories like “social,” “cultural,” and “economic” into a continuous whole addressing the state of the public under the banner of the issue of climate change—is, as we have seen, quintessentially modern German. If the Energiewende is supposed to be an endeavor which involves all sectors of society and is positively viewed by both the government and the public—the first and third of Hegel’s three spheres of consciousness in ethical life[125]—where does that leave German businesses, the key element in Hegel’s second sphere of civil society? How do economic actors understand this initiative that has cost so much? For one, the high level of popular support, combined with consistent governmental action, guarantees that German businesses—though they might not be automatically inclined to accommodate the demands of the Energiewende—have little choice but to make the best of it and adapt, as they are squeezed from above and below. This is particularly true of energy companies: as one former utilities executive put it, the Energiewende is “an irreversible process now.”[126] The country’s two largest power companies have both in recent years split in two, with one company emerging dedicated to traditional fuels and one to renewables.[127] Germany’s environmental-political imagination as realized in the Energiewende is thus not a utopian one, where achievement of the large social transition demanded by sharp emissions reductions arises from simple good will and is painless for all. However, given the demanding goal, what is required is clear: as the 2020 climate plan put it, “The energy industry is the sector with the highest greenhouse gas emissions and the greatest technical and economic potential for reduction.”[128] But while certain big businesses may not be happy, others are, as smaller companies dedicated to the production, installation, equipment, and maintenance of renewable energy technology have sprung up and the Energiewende has gained the support of industry groups like the German Confederation of Small and Medium-Sized Enterprises.[129] Plus, the collectivist temperament of the Energiewende extends to the hurt businesses: The government has pledged to work, including at EU level, to create job opportunities in regions most affected by the switch to renewables.[130] The dominant German conception of political leadership on environment outside its own borders is close to the imagination just described inside them. The federal government claims and demonstrates responsible leadership by example, acknowledging its interdependence with other nations without which a major dent cannot be made in international environmental issues like climate change, then expects them to follow suit just as it expects its own citizens and private enterprises to contribute to the Energiewende . This ideal of leadership, as read through Germany’s public statements and actions, is recognizable on both the European stage and the global stage. At the European level, Germany casts itself as a proudly trustworthy friend acting in solidarity for the larger collective European cause of which it is a part, willing to take on heavy burdens to encourage action by others. In the BMU’s words, “Germany’s climate policy is embedded in European and international agreements and legal obligations. Germany has always been a reliable partner in international and European climate policy.”[131] Since the early 2000s, it has shown leadership multiple significant times in the EU. First, following the publication of the Stern Report on the Economics of Climate Change in 2006, which argued that the worst effects of climate change could still be prevented with rapid and concerted action,[132] Germany led the EU during its Presidency of the Council of the European Union to its landmark 20-20-20 targets, which committed the EU as a whole to 20% reductions in CO2 emissions, 20% of power from renewable energy, and 20% increased energy efficiency levels by 2020.[133] Shortly after, in 2007, it passed major Energiewende legislation doubling these EU baseline commitments, pledging to cut its own CO2 emissions 40% by 2020.[134] For the most part, the EU has followed suit. As of August 2018, it is on track to meet its 20-20-20 commitment,[135] and several EU countries have now caught up to Germany in terms of emissions cuts and renewables production.[136] To exactly what extent these positive changes would have occurred without Germany taking leadership on the issue through the Energiewende is impossible to say, but its leadership has been immensely publicized and other nations have both followed in its footsteps and learned from its mistakes. Germany’s actions on the global stage in the 21st century have also evinced an imagination of itself as a responsible actor seeking to initiate a reciprocal exchange of actions rather than to gain credit for its own glory. The aforementioned 2007 decision to cut CO2 emissions 40% by 2020, the “Meseberg decision,” also immediately preceded the 2007 UN Climate Change Conference (COP13) in Bali. The government’s statement on the legislation proclaimed, By implementing the key elements adopted in Meseberg, Germany is demonstrating that climate protection can be implemented in all sectors in an economically viable way. With Meseberg we are moving away from the attitude in international climate policy of “you first” towards “this is what I’m doing, what about you?” This is the only way to break the deadlock in international negotiations.[137] The negotiations at COP13 in Bali ultimately achieved somewhat underwhelming results,[138] in part due to strong US objections to a proposal by developing countries. However, Germany’s 21st-century form of climate leadership by example has been durable and persistent despite international mediocrity: seven years after Bali, it put forth a new and more ambitious emissions reductions plan ahead of the 2015 UN Climate Change Conference (COP21) in Paris, which finally produced a (limited) international breakthrough in the form of the landmark Paris Agreement. Recycling their argument from the domestic context that emissions reductions and renewable power are crucial for economic modernization, ahead of Paris, Germany wrote that “Germany can, and must, play a key role internationally and must demonstrate that taking climate action in an industrialised country does work and, in fact, is crucial for any economy that wants to be competitive in the 21st century.”[139] While climate change is today’s signal international environmental issue, it is not the case that Germany’s sharp international environmental-political desire for responsible, reciprocal action is limited to climate and energy. There is a broader environmental conceptual connectivity, a common language for understanding environmental issues that must be politically approached, at work. For instance, in the context of biodiversity preservation, one of the UN Sustainable Development Goals,[140] a prominent German environmental NGO argued, “only if we in Germany take the lead and preserve...habitats from destruction, will we also be able to expect such conservation ideas to take root in poorer countries.”[141] A likely important factor contributing to this keen perception of international interdependence and leadership on environmental issues in Germany is its position in the center of Europe, caught as the most important nation in a terrestrial geographic web of dense population, commerce, borders, and laws. This position plays a part in both cross-border environmental issues that Germany must aid in solving, and issues of energy dependence: Germany depends on nearby, oil-rich, unfriendly Russia for 40% of its oil imports[142] and a significant quantity of natural gas to boot, a position that increasing its supply of renewables through the Energiewende aims to help it escape. The last feature of leadership and agency as understood in the modern continuous, collectivist German environmental-political imagination that I shall discuss here is its leaders’ respect for the temporal continuity of policy. This is well exemplified in the logical coherence of Energiewende policy since the turn of the millennium. Successive German central governments, for the most part, do not feel empowered or motivated to craft a climate and energy policy that is entirely their own. Instead, they adjust old policies and craft innovative ones atop an established structure that keeps the original fundamental goals intact, bespeaking a respect for prior action and an effective norm that holds it unacceptable to simply throw out the work of previous governments and attempt to start over. This pattern is a temporal corollary to the emphasis on social solidarity and collective action discussed so far that characterizes German environmental leadership. This persistent, collective gradualism is visible in the official discourse of the Energiewende : most laws, policy announcements, and statements by political leaders include provisions for frequent recalibration of the policies designed to cut emissions and increase renewables use.[143] For instance, the government in 2007 assured people at the outset of its doubling of emissions cuts targets that, in the event of ineffectiveness or cost-inefficiency in the design of the policy, its mechanisms would be redesigned.[144] Such assurances are often accompanied by exhortatory language about the value of determination and staying the course. For instance, from the minister of the BMU’s foreword to the 2020 Climate Action Programme: “Germanyʼs Energiewende , or energy transition, is an encouraging example...despite all the challenges its details pose. We intend to continue down this route—with everyone on board, including each individual sector of the economy.”[145] As in the case of its domestic inclusion and international leadership, this ambitious talk has generally in the Energiewende been convincingly backed by action. The sheer volume of legislation passed each year to update and fine-tune the Energiewende , usually in the direction of greater policy ambition, is a testament to a deep-seated incrementalist perseverance. The repeated revisiting of the 2000 Renewable Energy Sources Act is a good example of this. New versions of the act have been passed five times since its original passage, in order to update its pricing mechanisms and the rates of its energy subsidies in light of new evidence and emissions reductions progress, but the core structure has remained in place.[146] This is undoubtedly thanks in part to the way it and other Energiewende policies have intentionally involved and benefited individual citizens, such that reversing it would be fatally unpopular, but updating it remains popularly accepted. This patience of the German environmental-imagination when it comes to leadership and effective action also guarantees that beneficial policy experiments are encouraged, and the government can learn from its mistakes. For instance, after a successful experimental cross-border wind energy auction with Denmark, Germany laid plans to expand its cross-border renewables connectivity within Europe.[147] Such experimentation and improvement within a broader continuity rarely occurs in a modern US environmental-political context defined largely by the desire of each administration to craft its own signature policies on key issues like energy. In the US, more typical than a rhetoric of adjustment, gradual improvement, and persistence are words like “repeal,” “rule unconstitutional,” and “replace.”[148] This pendulum effect on climate and energy policy in the US reflects an environment of partisan hostility, certainly, but also a vision of environmental politics as a zero-sum game played between individuated competing parties. Moreover, the German imagination of temporal continuity and gradual adjustment of laws dovetails with a conceptual continuity of environmental outcomes, which is the opposite of the American case. In contemporary Germany, the climate problem, along with environmental problems generally, tends not to be framed as a binary with either an outcome of glorious victory or devastating failure depending on which of competing policies is selected. Instead, a more realist, incremental perspective prevails: better environmental outcomes can be achieved on a spectrum of possible outcomes by improving the design and implementation of laws. As a BMU dossier explaining Germany’s climate policies put it, “Climate change cannot be reversed...Nevertheless, it is still possible to slow down climate change and limit its impacts on humans and the environment.”[149] Words like “fighting” climate change, rather than “solving” it or “defeating” it, are common.[150] Accordingly, Germany has not just emissions reductions plans, but an official strategy for adaptation to climate change.[151] The US, where action on climate change tends to be framed as either part of a once-and-for-all climate solution or a total failure, has no such plan. There is no place in American environmental-political rhetoric for a reasoned gradualism, even an urgent one: as Obama put it, ours is “the last generation”[152] that can do something about climate change, and that “doing something” is cast usually as “solving” climate change, or failing to do so.[153] Rather than climate change becoming progressively worse the less each generation acts to prevent it, in this imagination the generation of today becomes “the last generation” that can act, the glorious individual agent who either succeeds or fails. The desire in the US political imagination for glorious leadership by a particular individual or group is not limited to competing parties or economic interests, then, but extends over time: America particularizes the present. In Germany, by contrast, persistence, gradualism, and the principle of “fairness between generations”[154] deeply influences the German moral and political compass and produces an approach to policy better suited to the problem of CO2 emissions itself: needful of sustained cuts over time and productive of a problem that can get a bit worse when policy is a bit less effective. To conclude this section: in the German environmental-political imagination, climate change is an issue of collective responsibility on which Germany ought to lead in a persistent, patient, and reciprocal way, both domestically and internationally, with participation from the top to the bottom of society and benefit for all involved. Endnotes [1] Barack Obama, “Remarks Announcing the Environmental Protection Agency’s Clean Power Plan - DCPD-201500546” (Office of the Federal Register, National Archives and Records Administration, August 3, 2015), https://www.govinfo.gov/app/details/DCPD-201500546. https://www.govinfo.gov/app/details/DCPD-201500546 Obama. [2] Barbara Hendricks, Foreword, in “The German Government’s Climate Action Programme 2020 - Cabinet Decision of 3 December 2014” (Federal Ministry for the Environment, Nature Conservation, Building and Nuclear Safety (BMUB), December 3, 2014). [3] Jedediah Purdy, After Nature: A Politics for the Anthropocene (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2015), 3. [4] See, e.g., Suzanne Moore, “Angela Merkel Shows How the Leader of the Free World Should Act | Suzanne Moore,” The Guardian , May 29, 2017, sec. Opinion, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/may/29/angela-merkel-leader-free-world-donald-trump . [5] Purdy, After Nature , 6. [7] For a general global analysis, see Douglas Holtz-Eakin & Thomas M. Selden, Douglas Holtz-Eakin and Thomas M. Selden, “Stoking the Fires? CO2 Emissions and Economic Growth,” Journal of Public Economics 57 , no. 1 (May 1995): 85-101. For an early economic analysis linking CO2, growth, and climate, see William D. Nordhaus, William D. Nordhaus, “Economic Growth and Climate: The Carbon Dioxide Problem,” The American Economic Review , no. 1 (1977): 341. For an examination of several industrialized nations, including the US and Germany, that provides empirical evidence against the theoretical notion in environmental economics that beyond a certain level of development, emissions and growth vary inversely, see S.M. de Bruyn et al, Economic Growth and Emissions: Reconsidering the Empirical Basis of Environmental Kuznets Curves , 25 Ecological Econ. 161-175 (1998). For an analysis focused on China, see S.S. Wang et al., “CO2 Emissions, Energy Consumption and Economic Growth in China: A Panel Data Analysis,” Energy Policy 39 (September 1, 2011): 4870–75, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.enpol.2011.06.032 . [8] “GDP (Current US$) | Data” (World Bank, 2018), https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NY.GDP.MKTP. CD?year_high_desc=true. [9] “GDP per Capita, PPP (Current International $) | Data” (World Bank, 2018), https://data.worldbank.org/ indicator/NY.GDP.PCAP.PP.CD?end=2015&start=1960&year_high_desc=true. [10] “Each Country’s Share of CO2 Emissions,” Union of Concerned Scientists, October 11, 2018, https://www . ucsusa.org/global-warming/science-and-impacts/science/each-countrys-share-of-co2.html. [11] “The World Factbook,” Central Intelligence Agency, 2016, https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/theworld-factbook/. [12] United States Environmental Protection Agency, “Our Mission and What We Do,” Overviews and Factsheets, US EPA, January 29, 2013, https://www.epa.gov/aboutepa/our-mission-and-what-we-do; “About Us,” Umweltbundesamt, September 6, 2013, http://www.umweltbundesamt.de/en/the-uba/about-us. For a lay overview of the EPA’s history and functions, see Robinson Meyer, “How the U.S. Protects the Environment, From Nixon to Trump,” The Atlantic, March 29, 2017, https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/03/how-the-epa-andus-environmental-law-works-a-civics-guide-pruitt-trump/521001/. [13] Massachusetts v. Environmental Protection Agency, No. 05–1120 (Roberts Court April 2, 2007). [14] “EU Emissions Trading System (EU ETS),” Climate Action - European Commission, accessed January 2, 2019, https://ec.europa.eu/clima/policies/ets_en. [15] Meyer, “How the U.S. Protects the Environment.” [16] “The Clean Power Plan: EPA Interprets the Clean Air Act to Allow Regulation of Carbon Dioxide Emissions from Existing Power Plants.,” Harvard Law Review 1152 129, no. 4 (February 2016), https://harvardlawreview. org/2016/02/the-clean-power-plan/. [17] Environmental Protection Agency, “Carbon Pollution Emission Guidelines for Existing Stationary Sources: Electric Utility Generating Units | 80 FR 64661” (Federal Register, December 22, 2015), https://www. federalregister.gov/documents/2015/10/23/2015-22842/carbon-pollution-emission-guidelines-for-existingstationary-sources-electric-utility-generating. [18] United States Environmental Protection Agency, “Inventory of U.S. Greenhouse Gas Emissions and Sinks: 1990-2016,” Reports and Assessments, US EPA, January 30, 2018, https://www.epa.gov/ghgemissions/inventoryus-greenhouse-gas-emissions-and-sinks-1990-2016. [19] Barack Obama, “Remarks Announcing the Environmental Protection Agency’s Clean Power Plan.” [20] Robinson Meyer and Matt Ford, “A Major Blow to Obama’s Climate-Change Plan,” The Atlantic, February 9, 2016, https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/02/supreme-court-clean-power/462093/. [21] 40 C.F.R. §60. [22] “Clean Power Plan / Carbon Pollution Emission Guidelines - Environmental & Energy Law Program,” Harvard Law School, September 27, 2017, https://eelp.law.harvard.edu/2017/09/clean-power-plan-carbonpollution-emission-guidelines/. [23] United States Environmental Protection Agency, “FACT SHEET: Clean Power Plan Overview,” Overviews and Factsheets, accessed January 3, 2019, fact-sheet-clean-power-plan-overview.html. [24] Robert Rapier, “Yes, The U.S. Leads All Countries In Reducing Carbon Emissions,” Forbes, accessed January 3, 2019, [25] US EPA, “Carbon Pollution Emission Guidelines,” ES-6. [26] United States Environmental Protection Agency, “Sources of Greenhouse Gas Emissions,” Overviews and Factsheets, US EPA, December 29, 2015, https://www.epa.gov/ghgemissions/sources-greenhouse-gas-emissions. [27] See, e.g., Hiroko Tabuchi and Henry Fountain, “Bucking Trump, These Cities, States and Companies Commit to Paris Accord,” The New York Times, January 20, 2018, sec. Climate, https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/01/climate/american-cities-climate-standards.html. [28] Hardy Graupner, “What Exactly Is Germany’s ‘Energiewende’?” DW.COM, January 22, 2013, https://www.dw.com/en/what-exactly-is-germanys-energiewende/a-16540762. [29] “Sunny, Windy, Costly and Dirty,” The Economist, January 18, 2014, https://www.economist.com/europe/2014/01/18/sunny-windy-costly-and-dirty. [30] “Renewable Energy Sources Act (Erneuerbare-Energien-Gesetz EEG),” International Energy Agency, 2000, https://www.iea.org/policiesandmeasures/pams/germany/name-21702-en.php. [31] BMWi - Federal Ministry for Economics Affairs and Energy, “Renewable Energy,” 2018, https://www.bmwi.de/Redaktion/EN/Dossier/renewable-energy.html. [32] See generally Federal Ministry for Environment, Nature Conservation, and Nuclear Safety (BMU), “The Integrated Energy and Climate Programme of the German Government,” 2007. [33] See generally Federal Ministry of Economics and Technology and Federal Ministry for the Environment, Nature Conservation and Nuclear Safety, “Energy Concept for an Environmentally Sound, Reliable and Affordable Energy Supply,” September 28, 2010. [34] See generally “The German Government’s Climate Action Programme 2020 - Cabinet Decision of 3 December 2014” BMU, December 3, 2014; BMU, “Climate Action Plan 2050 – Germany’s Long-Term Emission Development Strategy,” 2016, https://www.bmu.de/en/topics/climate-energy/climate/national-climate-policy/greenhouse-gas-neutral-germany-2050/. [35] Federal Ministry for the Environment, Nature Conservation and Nuclear Safety, “The Federal Government’s Energy Concept of 2010 and the Transformation of the Energy System of 2011,” 2011. [36] Jeffrey Ball, “Germany’s High-Priced Energy Revolution,” Fortune, March 14, 2017, http://fortune.com/2017/03/14/germany-renewable-clean-energy-solar/. [37] Kerstine Appunn, “The History behind Germany’s Nuclear Phase-Out,” Clean Energy Wire, January 2, 2018, https://www.cleanenergywire.org/factsheets/history-behind-germanys-nuclear-phase-out. [38] See e.g., Sören Amelang, “Germany on Track to Widely Miss 2020 Climate Target – Government,” Clean Energy Wire, June 13, 2018, https://www.cleanenergywire.org/news/germany-track-widely-miss-2020-climatetarget-government. [39] Eurostat, “Greenhouse Gas Emission Statistics - Emission Inventories,” June 2018, https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php/Greenhouse_gas_emission_statistics_-_emission_inventories. [40] BMWi, “Renewable Energy,” 2018. [50] See, e.g., Environmental Protection Agency, “Electric Utility Generating Units: Repealing the Clean Power Plan: Proposal,” Policies and Guidance, US EPA, October 4, 2017, https://www.epa.gov/stationary-sourcesair-pollution/electric-utility-generating-units-repealing-clean-power-plan-0; Robinson Meyer, “How Obama Could Lose His Big Climate Case,” The Atlantic, September 29, 2016, https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2016/09/obama-clean-power-plan-dc-circuit-legal/502115/. [51] OAR US EPA, “Clean Power Plan Final Rule – Regulatory Impact Analysis,” Reports and Assessments, October 23, 2015, /cleanpowerplan/clean-power-plan-final-rule-regulatory-impact-analysis, 3-23. [52] See, e.g., sections on ExxonMobil, Peabody Energy, and Southern Company in “Who’s Fighting the Clean Power Plan and EPA Action on Climate Change?” Union of Concerned Scientists, https://www.ucsusa.org/globalwarming/fightmisinformation/whos-fighting-clean-power-plan-and-epa-action-climate. [53] OAR US EPA, “FACT SHEET: Clean Power Plan By The Numbers,” Overviews and Factsheets, accessed January 3, 2019, fact-sheet-clean-power-plan-numbers.html. [54] See, e.g., Megan Brenan and Lydia Saad, “Global Warming Concern Steady Despite Some Partisan Shifts,” Gallup.com, March 28, 2018, https://news.gallup.com/poll/231530/global-warming-concern-steady-despitepartisan-shifts.aspx. [55] “EPW Republicans Send Letter to EPA in Support of Clean Power Plan Repeal,” U.S. Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works, January 12, 2018, https://www.epw.senate.gov/public/index.cfm/2018/1/epwrepublicans-send-letter-to-epa-in. [56] Purdy, After Nature, 190. [57] US EPA, supra note 21. [58] Department of Energy, “2017 U.S. Energy and Employment Report,” January 2017, 29. [59] DOE, “U.S. Energy and Employment Report,” 21. [60] For a theoretical overview of environmental justice and its critical discussion of race, see David Schlosberg, “Theorising Environmental Justice: The Expanding Sphere of a Discourse,” Environmental Politics 22, no. 1 (February 1, 2013): 37–55, https://doi.org/10.1080/09644016.2013.755387); For information about the high proportion of black Americans living near a coal-fired power plant, see “Environmental Racism in America: An Overview of the Environmental Justice Movement and the Role of Race in Environmental Policies,” Goldman Environmental Foundation, June 24, 2015, https://www.goldmanprize.org/blog/environmental-racism-inamerica-an-overview-of-the-environmental-justice-movement-and-the-role-of-race-in-environmental-policies/; By contrast, for statistics showing employment in the coal industry to be disproportionately white, see United States Department of Labor Bureau of Labor Statistics, “Employed Persons by Detailed Industry, Sex, Race, and Hispanic or Latino Ethnicity,” 2018, https://www.bls.gov/cps/cpsaat18.htm. [61] Purdy, After Nature, 30. [62] International Energy Agency, “Energy Imports, Net (% of Energy Use) | Data” (The World Bank, 2015), https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/EG.IMP.CONS.ZS?locations=US&year_high_desc=false. [63] Nicole Lewis, “Fact Checker: EPA Administrator Scott Pruitt’s Claim That the U.S. Is ‘Leading the World’ in ‘C02 Footprint’ Reductions,” The Washington Post, October 23, 2017, https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/fact-checker/wp/2017/10/23/epa-administrator-scott-pruitts-claim-the-u-s-is-leading-the-world-in-c02-footprintreductions/?utm_term=.57dfb8ccf34b. [64] Jan Ivar Korsbakken, Robbie Andrew, and Glen Peters, “Guest Post: China’s CO2 Emissions Grew Less than Expected in 2017,” Carbon Brief, March 8, 2018, https://www.carbonbrief.org/guest-post-chinas-co2-emissionsgrew-less-expected-2017. [65] Benjamin Storrow, “Trump’s ‘Affordable Clean Energy’ Plan Won’t Save Coal,” Scientific American, August 21, 2018, https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/trumps-affordable-clean-energy-plan-wont-save-coal/. [66] Obama, “Remarks Announcing the Environmental Protection Agency’s Clean Power Plan." [67] The European Commission, “EU Emissions Trading System (EU ETS).” [68] It seems notable here that for the entire period between Obama’s direction of the EPA to craft the CPP in 2013 and his announcement of the final rule in 2015, his approval rating stayed beneath 50%; see Gallup, “Presidential Approval Ratings -- Barack Obama,” Gallup.com, accessed January 4, 2019, https://news.gallup.com/poll/116479/Barack-Obama-Presidential-Job-Approval.aspx. [69] The White House Office of the Press Secretary, “Presidential Memorandum -- Power Sector Carbon Pollution Standards,” whitehouse.gov, June 25, 2013, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2013/06/25/presidential-memorandum-power-sector-carbon-pollution-standards. [70] See e.g., Naomi Klein, This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2014). [71] Purdy, After Nature, 34. [73] BMU, supra note 15, at 2. [74] Id., at 1. [75] See, e.g., Purdy, After Nature, 24. [76] BMU and BMWi, “Energy Concept for an Environmentally Sound, Reliable and Affordable Energy Supply,” 4. [77] BMU and BMWi, “Energy Concept for an Environmentally Sound, Reliable and Affordable Energy Supply,” 5. [78] BMU, “The German Government’s Climate Action Programme 2020 - 2014” 18. [79] “The German Federal Government,” deutschland.de, January 23, 2018, https://www.deutschland.de/en/ topic/politics/the-german-federal-government. [80] “Basic Law for the Federal Republic of Germany - Article 20a [Protection of Natural Foundations of Life and Animals]” (Federal Ministry of Justice and Consumer Protection and Federal Office of Justice), accessed January 4, 2019, https://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_gg/englisch_gg.html#p0119. [81] “The German Environmental Constitutional Law,” Umweltbundesamt, January 29, 2016, http://www.umweltbundesamt.de/en/the-german-environmental-constitutional-law. [82] Monika Neumann, “The Environmental Law System of the Federal Republic of Germany,” Annual Survey of International & Comparative Law 3, no. 1 (1996): 69–110. [83] Jonathan Cannon, Environment in the Balance (Harvard University Press, 2015), http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674736788. [84] Arlan Gerald Wine, “Enforcement Controversy Under the Clean Air Act: State Sovereignty and the Commerce Clause,” Transportation Law Journal 8 (1976): 383–400. [85] See, e.g., Massachusetts v. Environmental Protection Agency, No. 05–1120; wherein the Bush-era EPA opposed regulation of CO2 emissions. [86] Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, “History of Environmental Policy in Germany: CDU Perspectives 1958–2015,”n.d.,https://www.kas.de/c/document_library/get_file?uuid=57153b6c-1ac9-6dd4-4048-b7e8732ba709&groupId=252038. [87] Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, “History of Environmental Policy in Germany,” 2 [88] Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, “History of Environmental Policy in Germany,” 22. [89] For discussion of coal, see BMU, “Climate Action Plan 2050 – Germany’s Long-Term Emission Development Strategy”; for discussion of the abolition of nuclear energy see “German Chancellor Merkel on Energy Nuclear Policy, Jun 9 2011 | Video | C-SPAN.Org” (C-SPAN 3, June 9, 2011), https://www.c-span.org/video/?300059-1/german-chancellor-merkel-energy-nuclear-policy. [90] Paul Hockenos, “The History of the Energiewende,” Clean Energy Wire, June 12, 2015, https://www.cleanenergywire.org/dossiers/history-energiewende. [91] Hockenos, “The History of the Energiewende.” [92] Hockenos, “The History of the Energiewende.” [93] Ball, “Germany’s High-Priced Energy Revolution.” [94] BMU and BMWi, “Energy Concept for an Environmentally Sound, Reliable and Affordable Energy Supply,” 15. [95] Appunn, “The History behind Germany’s Nuclear Phase-Out." [96] “German Chancellor Merkel on Energy Nuclear Policy, Jun 9 2011 | Video | C-SPAN.Org.” [97] “German Chancellor Merkel on Energy Nuclear Policy, Jun 9 2011 | Video | C-SPAN.Org.” [98] See, e.g., Kenneth Bruninx et al., “Impact of the German Nuclear Phase-out on Europe’s Electricity Generation—A Comprehensive Study,” Energy Policy 60 (September 1, 2013): 251–61, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.enpol.2013.05.026; Hardy Graupner, “What Exactly Is Germany’s ‘Energiewende’?,” DW.COM, January 22, 2013, https://www.dw.com/en/what-exactly-is-germanys-energiewende/a-16540762. [99] Poll by Emnid, cited in “4 Jahre Nach Fukushima: Große Mehrheit Für Energiewende - Politik Inland - Bild. De,” Bild, March 14, 2015, https://www.bild.de/politik/inland/atomausstieg/4-jahre-nach-fukushima-grossemehrheit-fuer-energiewende-40148648.bild.html. [100] B.D. Hong and E.R. Slatick, “Emissions Factors for Coal,” Quarterly Coal Report January-April 1994, 1994, 1–8. [101] Kerstine Appunn, “Coal in Germany,” Clean Energy Wire, October 29, 2014, https://www.cleanenergywire.org/factsheets/coal-germany. [102] Jessica Wentz, “6 Important Points About the ‘Affordable Clean Energy Rule,’” State of the Planet | Earth Institute | Sabin Center for Climate Change Law (blog), August 22, 2018, https://blogs.ei.columbia.edu/2018/08/22/affordable-clean-energy-rule/. [103] BMU, supra note 34, at 35. [104] Benjamin Wehrmann, “Germany’s Coal Exit Commission,” Clean Energy Wire, May 31, 2018, https://www.cleanenergywire.org/factsheets/germanys-coal-exit-commission. [105] “Nature Protection and Biodiversity - National Responses (Germany),” SOER 2010 Common environmental theme (Deprecated), European Environment Agency, accessed January 5, 2019, https://www.eea.europa.eu/soer/countries/de/nature-protection-and-biodiversity-national. [106] Melissa Eddy, “German Energy Push Runs Into Problems,” The New York Times, December 20, 2017, sec. Business, https://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/20/business/energy-environment/german-energy-push-runsinto-problems.html. [107] Ellen Thalman and Julian Wettengel, “The Story of ‘Climate Chancellor’ Angela Merkel,” Clean Energy Wire, November 26, 2015, https://www.cleanenergywire.org/factsheets/making-climate-chancellor-angelamerkel. [108] Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, “History of Environmental Policy in Germany,” 30. [109] “German Chancellor Merkel on Energy Nuclear Policy, Jun 9 2011 | Video | C-SPAN.Org.” [110] BMU, “The German Government’s Climate Action Programme 2020,” 6. [111] See Meyer, “How Obama Could Lose His Big Climate Case.” [112] BMWi, Monitoring and Steering the Energy Transition (2018), https://www.bmwi.de/Redaktion/EN/Dossier/energy-transition.html. [113] BMU, supra note 34, at 12. [114] See, e.g., BMU, “The Integrated Energy and Climate Programme,” 2; 13. [115] BMU, “The Integrated Energy and Climate Programme,” 63. [116] Alexander Franke and Energiewende Team, “How Winning over Rural Constituents Changed the Political Discussions on Renewables in Germany,” Energy Transition (blog), November 18, 2014, https://energytransition.org/2014/11/german-fit-helped-making-energiewende-non-partisan/. [117] Gerhard Stryi-Hipp, “THE EFFECTS OF THE GERMAN RENEWABLE ENERGY SOURCES ACT (EEG) ON MARKET, TECHNICAL AND INDUSTRIAL DEVELOPMENT,” 2004, https://doi.org/10.13140/2.1.1444.6404, 1. [118] BMWi, “Renewable Energy,” 2018. [119] Craig Morris, “Share of German Citizen Renewable Energy Shrinking,” Energy Transition (blog), February 7, 2018, https://energytransition.org/2018/02/share-of-german-citizen-renewable-energy-shrinking/. [120] Franke et al, “How Winning over Rural Constituents Changed the Political Discussions on Renewables.” [121] David Meyer, “95% of Germans Support Green Energy Subsidies Despite Their High Price,” Fortune, August 8, 2017, http://fortune.com/2017/08/08/germans-renewable-energy-energiewende-subsidies/. Just as remarkably, 56% of Germans said their average annual electricity bill surcharge of around 240 euros was either reasonable or too low. [122] Former EPA Administrator Scott Pruitt, quoted in “Scott Pruitt Signs a Measure to Repeal the Clean Power Plan,” The Economist, October 10, 2017, https://www.economist.com/democracy-in-america/2017/10/10/scottpruitt-signs-a-measure-to-repeal-the-clean-power-plan. [123] BMU supra note 29; see also, e.g., BMU, “The Integrated Energy and Climate Programme,” 14: (“it is therefore...their own interest”). [124] BMU, “The Integrated Energy and Climate Programme,” 65. 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Kyu-hyun Jo Cause, Causation, and Multiplicity: A Critique of E. H. Carr’s “Causation in History” Kyu-hyun Jo Abstract This paper will assess three central components of Edward Carr’s lecture ‘’Causation in History’’ in What is History? First, Carr does not show causation’s real function of distinguishing between various types of history; the kinds of causes a historian employs describes the nature of their historical inquiry. Second, Carr’s notion of “accidental causes” is oxymoronic because accidents are unpredictable for any historical actor. There is no logic to explain why unexpected accidents had to happen for historical actors from their viewpoint. Therefore, its contrast with ‘’rational causes’’ is misleading. Finally, however important causes are in formulating historical interpretations, causes do not determine a historian’s interpretation. 1. An Outline of the Main Arguments The explanation of causes in historical phenomena—explaining how historical events occurred by examining and describing the reasons behind their occurrence—is perhaps the signature hallmark of History as a Social Science. Yet, how does a historian know what a cause is and how should he or she explain the cause? This paper will provide a critique of Edward Carr’s methodology in his lecture “Causation in History,’’ collected in his seminal book, What is History? I will first assess Carr’s discussion of determinism, then discuss his distinction between accidental and rational causes, and finally, analyze how examples function throughout the lecture to highlight his arguments. From such examination, I will emphasize the function of historical causality within Carr’s framing of History as a scientific process. After examining Carr’s logic on historical causality, I will conclude with three main arguments. First, while Carr shows the necessity of causal explanations in historical analyses, he does not crucially show that the real importance of causes in historical explanation lies in their power to determine subdivisions in fields of historical research. Second, Carr’s distinction between “accidental causes’’ and “rational causes’’ is misleading because “accidental causes’’ is an oxymoronic concept. Accidents occur unpredictably and unexpectedly from a historical actor’s perspective, and it is impossible to accurately judge why an accident had to occur, unless a historical actor involved in an accident should miraculously resuscitate to directly inform the historian of the accident’s details. Moreover, if the fundamental purpose of a historical cause is to provide a logical explanation to the occurrence of historical phenomena, Carr, in conceiving “accidental’’ as an opposing concept to “rational,’’ is basically comparing illogical and logical causation in history. However, if “illogical’’ means “that which cannot be explained logically,’’ then it is questionable how an “illogical cause’’ is actually an explanatory cause. It is possible to explain that an accident became an accident, even if it is much harder to determine why an accident exactly occurred. Insofar as there is an explanation, however unsatisfactory the quality of the explanation may be, explaining how an accident came to be called as such, still qualifies as being logical, or having the capability to be explained with reasonable statements. In other words, the contrast between accidental and rational causes in historical explanation is misconstrued because “accidental causes’’ is an oxymoronic concept. Finally, while Carr may be correct in emphasizing the importance of causes in historical interpretation, he is mistaken in assuming that causes alone dictate the structure and content of historical analysis. The search for historical causes is only necessary for the sake of providing diverse angles of historical analyses; historical causes are not so important to exclusively determine and decide the entire content of a historian’s interpretation. It is the historian’s liberty to interpret facts about an event and then determine what the important causes of an event may be, but historical causes alone do not possess the great power to determine the direction of the historian’s interpretation. Rather, it is interdisciplinary historical analysis, which provides a rationale, a justification for why certain causes have better explanatory causes for a certain historical event than others, which ultimately in- forms the direction of a historian’s logic. The art of performing meticulous and exact historical interpretations involves adopting interdisciplinary methods, and only after the invocation of interdisciplinary methods to provide a rationale for establishing a hierarchy between causes can a historian perform interpretations. 2. A Brief Literature Review and the Significance of “Causation in History” A close analysis and an examination of Carr’s conception of causality and his ideas is necessary because there has yet to be a systematic study of Carr’s “Causation in History.” The majority of the secondary literature on What is His- tory? are book reviews that concentrates on commenting on the book’s overall structure and its main argument that History is a dialogue between the past and the present. This literature either mentions Carr’s discussion of historical causality solely in relation to his main argument, or ignores it altogether (1). For example, in the most recent comprehensive discussion of philosophies of History and historiography, the author closely analyzes Robin Collingwood’s emphasis on human ac- tions as the subject of historical inquiry is closely analyzed as a conditional theory for historical causation. Though Carr was a major critic of Collingwood’s views of History in general, neither Carr’s “Causation in History” as an independent work nor What is History? is given sufficient attention (2). Critical studies of Carr’s ideas regarding History have concentrated on his pursuit of objectivity and positivism, or his conceptualization of History as a study of causes. Ann Frazier (1976) argues against an absolute positivist view of History. She asserts that insofar as a historical narrative is a “reconstruction from present experience of what might have happened in the past,” it is impossible to absolutely determine what “actually happened in the past” (3). In other words, Carr’s vision for an objective and a pure History devoted to verifying past events with exactitude is untenable and impossible to realize. Geoffrey Partington (1979) criticized Carr’s “moral positivism and moral futurism” in favor of replacing them with relativism to better account for differences in time and place in which a historical event occurred when making a historical judgment (4). Most recently, Ann Talbot (2009), while comparing Carr’s view of chance and necessity with that of Leon Trotsky, concluded, “History is no longer a study of causality but is determined by the propensities of the historian” (5). In short, the secondary literature has engaged with various aspects of Carr’s view of History and concentrated on how historians write about the past and how recent interpretations of History have abandoned Carr’s concern for causality. However, the secondary literature, in particular Talbot, does not explain why Carr’s search for the role of causality in the writing of History is outdated, missing the central value of “Causality in History” as Carr’s most definitive statement on what History is as a science, for it is in this lecture where a truly scientific and methodical answer to the title of Carr’s book actually appears. A critical examination of Carr’s conception of historical causality is necessary to show why it is outdated or, as I noted earlier, there are three major deficiencies in Carr’s logic about historical causality. In “Causation in History” Carr develops the most methodological and structural argument about the nature of historical causality and criticism against historical determinism, which taken collectively, is actually devoted to explaining why History is a science, rather than explaining causality’s place in History for its own sake. Carr’s views about causality in History are essentially concerned with how causality functions in History to give its scientific character, not whether History’s entire academic identity is simply a study of causation. It is in this particular lecture where Carr’s understanding of History as a science in terms of approaches and methodology is most clearly expressed and where a genuinely structural analysis of History as a science—how historical causation reflects the scientific nature and essence of History—is most lucidly given. In short, this particular lecture deserves a close analysis because it explains why and how History functions as a science: by ordering facts through causality to transform historical fact into historical knowledge. How History becomes under- stood as History to a historian is perhaps the best method to know how history be- comes transformed into professional History. This paper intends to highlight the importance of causation within the question, “What is History?,” later evaluating Carr’s ability to frame historical inquiry as a scientific process through causation and causality. 3. Carr’s Main Ideas on Historical Causality Carr opens his discussion about historical causation with the observation that the historian “commonly assigns several causes to the same event’’ (6). However, the historian is bound by “a professional impulse to reduce it to order, to establish some hierarchy of causes which would fix their relation to one another’’ to decide which cause should be “the ultimate cause, the cause of all causes’’ (7). In other words, Carr believes that a multiplicity of causes serves a secondary function of letting the historian rationally prioritize a single cause that produced an event. From this discussion of the historian’s need to identify an order to historical causes, Carr argues that “historical determinism’’ and “chance in history’’ are “red herrings’’ which obstruct the logical flow of historical causation and proceeds to show how they are not part of a proper historical logic. “Historical determinism’’ is “the belief that everything has a cause or causes, and could not have happened differently unless something in the cause or causes had also been different’’ (8). In other words, “historical determinism’’ assumes that the occurrence of every phenomenon in life is dependent on a single cause unique to that particular phenomenon such that even the slightest alteration in the cause would necessarily produce a different phenomenon. However, Carr sees “historical determinism” as both unsatisfactory and un- realistic because it does not recognize the unpredictable vicissitudes of human behavior and actions According to Carr, the choices people make defy strict classification as either a matter of free will or logical determinism. He believes that various forms of human behavior and actions can arise from both free will and determined causes, arguing that historians are flexible in understanding human actions to arise from both sources (9). From this reasoning, Carr does not entertain the view that historical events occur “inevitably,’’ unless “inevitably’’ is qualified to mean that antecedent causes would have to be different for an event’s outcome to be radically different from what was expected (10). Since Carr is uncomfortable with the notion that historical events occur in a vacuum, it is unsurprising that he also finds explanations relying on “chance’’ or “accidents’’ unsatisfactory. Not only are accidents unexplainable through “historical determinism,’’ but accidents are also causal interruptions to a string of events which a historian wishes to investigate. In other words, the occurrence of an accident is not a license with which a historian can argue that there was no clear cause for an event to occur; an accident is merely an obstacle preventing the historian from focusing on a chain of causality which clearly awaited the historian’s discovery. Of course, Carr is aware that it might be possible for accidents and chance events to happen in history, for such occurrences are not only minor, but are continually compensated by other accidents or chance events, and “chance” might be a “character of individuals’’ (11). In other words, the randomness of accidents is possible because an accident is by nature an unexpected event and the forms in which it may occur are varied and diverse, and may be influenced by the unpredictable variety of personalities of every individual. Yet, Carr finds these apologetic defenses of accidents and chance events unsatisfying because accidents and chance events are often “seriously exaggerated,’’ or perceived to “accelerate or retard’’ historical progress, a sentiment which Carr dismisses as mere “juggling with words’’ (12). Moreover, he thinks that “chance events’’ are “natural occurrences’’ which complement each other is merely an euphemism to claim that there are events in life we cannot comprehend. Carr believes that those who use accidents in their theories have granted themselves the undeserved liberty to excuse themselves from the tedious business of rigorously investigating causes of an event. Such a person, in Carr’s view, is “intellectually lazy’’ or possesses “low intellectual vitality’’ (13). In other words, because accidents are also induced via human activity and actions, Carr does not believe that accidents truly occur unexpectedly or without any causation. Insofar as accidents can be caused by some faults in human personality or will, these faults, however inherently various, deserve to be studied as causes behind the accidents they create. The historian must observe and analyze accidents just as he or she would investigate any other “normal’’ political, social, or cultural event and ponder on why the accident occurred or whether it could have been avoided or prevented at all. So how does a historian pay proper attention to historical causes and formulate a causal relationship between historical facts? For Carr, it begins with the realization that there is little to distinguish between “historical’’ and “unhistorical’’ facts such that it is always possible for the latter to become the former (14). For example, someone living in 1066 and directly witnessing the Battle of Hastings might record that the battle “is taking place,” but once a historian agrees with the witness who claims that it was important that the battle occurred, the historian preserves the fact that the battle occurred in the past and has historical importance by simply stating the same fact in the past tense: “The Battle of Hastings clearly occurred in 1066.” Yet, the murkiness of the distinction does not mean that all causes are to be treated equally, for Carr believes that there are “rational’’ and “accidental’’ causes. The former can be applied to diverse countries, eras, and conditions, which warrants generalizations. By contrast, “accidental’’ causes, which have to be specifically devoted to explaining how an accident as a particular event in a specific time, location, and circumstances, cannot be generalized. An accident occurs under particular conditions and is fundamentally a result derived only from the particular conditions and therefore “teach us no lessons and lead to no conclusions’’ (15). In other words, rationality for Carr is synonymous with generality, while “accidental’’ causes are limited in their generality because they can only be comprehended only within the specific contexts they had occurred. The more important point is that “rational causes’’ have purposes borne from human motivations, whereas “accidental causes’’ do not have an objective. With that said, such a distinction does not mean “accidental causes’’ can be dismissed. Regardless of the type of cause, Carr believes that insofar as historians are expected to make interpretations about them, they are issuing value judgments, and causality is “bound up with interpretation,’’ for the act of assigning causes is itself a judgment. Moreover, because history is a purveyor of tradition, history is obligated to be a record of “past habits and lessons of the past’’ for future generations (16). Due to the arbitrary and selective nature of historical time, Carr concludes by arguing that historians must habitually ask “whither’’ along with “why?’’ (17). The audience for whom the historian writes is as important as personal and private reasons for which the historian writes history. Carr believes that the historian’s search for causation necessarily implies a search for an ultimate cause which can clearly answer why a phenomenon occurred, and insofar as a historian is searching for the ultimate cause, “historical determinism’’ is unsatisfactory because it disregards the importance of multiple causality in ac- counting for the unexpected and unpredictable nature of historical events. Carr also finds the treatment of “chance’’ or “accidental causes’’ as synonymous with “no causation’’ as unsatisfactory, because they are just masking a historian’s laziness or unwillingness to scrutinize historical events very closely to find a logical causation between them. Finally, regardless of whether a cause is “rational”—has the ability to be generalized—or is “accidental’’—happens by pure chance or as an outcome of unexpected events—distinctions between them are not very important because causality in general must inform a historian’s interpretation, which, in turn, is a form of value judgment. The possibility of a “subjective’’ causality is not an excuse to not treat “accidental causes’’ or “rational causes’’ unequally, for the division of time, which is the basic element of a historian’s thinking, is a subjective category which is bound to change depending on the nature of a “future’’ a historian is interested in addressing. As long as the future is subject to change, so will the perception of “past’’ and “present,’’ which is why a historian must be well aware of the purpose for which he or she desires to write history and the audience for whom the historian wishes a work to have a lasting influence. Logic is important to maximize the delivery of rhetorical clarity, for it is the essence of an argument’s organization. Yet, because logic is a general description of a reasoning’s supposed trajectory, logic needs to be supplemented with proper examples to illustrate and convince others that the trajectory is an accurate and rational one. This section has shown how Carr’s logic about historical causation could probably be considered rational; the next section will examine and analyze Carr’s use of examples to determine whether there is sufficient rhetorical strength in the logic to convince the reader that the logic is traveling on its proper and designated route. 4. Carr’s Use of Examples and Their Logical Compatibility with His Main Points This section evaluates Carr’s usage of historical examples in illustrating his main themes and arguments, offering a critique about the propriety of the examples in relation to the points they are making. In particular, it will concentrate on Carr’s examples drawn from the Russian Revolution and the accident of Robinson. This section will conclude that while his use of these examples is sound because he effectively illustrates the importance of unpredictability in historical causation to a historian’s thought process, the Revolution and the accident of Robinson do not greatly support Carr’s main theoretical argument because they do not show how and why a particular hierarchy of causes is necessary for one example but not the other. Carr uses episodes from the Russian Revolution to illustrate his opposition to historical determinism. There are several problems with Carr’s use of the Russian Revolution as an example to counter the assumptions of historical determinism. Fundamentally, the example does not show how Carr would be able to choose his “ultimate’’ cause behind the Revolution’s origins. While it is clear that multiple causes must be considered to establish the complexity of the event and there- by highlight its importance, Carr does not show how a hierarchy of causes can be derived from a consideration of multiple causes. What he actually wishes to show by discussing the Russian Revolution is that “historical determinism” is not a proper historical logic because it essentially engages in counterfactual reasoning, which is not germane to the historian’s critical aim of determining the past as it is. Against historical determinism’s charge that a historian may not consider other alternatives while focusing too much on one cause, Carr argues that supposing that Stolypin had completed the agrarian reform or that the Bolsheviks did not win the Russian Revolution are not relevant to historical determinism, for the determinist would simply look for causes other than ones which actually occurred to argue that different causes would have different outcomes. Hence, Carr suggests that the suppositions have “nothing to do with history,’’ because counterfactual assertions cannot be proven with any certainty with documented evidence and are non-historical (18). The problem is that Carr never really identifies the precise kind of historical interpretation for which his example from the Russian Revolution is meant to offer support. If the suppositions he made are not “historical,’’ then the real question is, which suppositions should be deemed “historical?’’ Refutation by negation does not necessarily lead to clarity; it only serves as a proof of what an opposing argument cannot be, rather than proving the essence of the opposing argument. More- over, because the basic theoretical argument against “historical determinism’’ is that historical events have multiple causes and do not occur in a vacuum, Carr’s example should have shown how a genuine historical argument can be fruitful by considering multiple causes. After all, the real problem Carr has with “historical determinism’’ is that it assumes that historical events were bound to happen with- out any particular value ascribed to the events’ circumstantial causes. Since Carr is uncomfortable with the unscientific and unhistorical nature of the philosophy, it would have logically made more sense for him to show how historical logic operates in a coherent and powerful manner such that it could not be easily dismissed by proponents of historical determinism. Hence, it would have sufficed to show how causation and causes operate in a historical analysis rather than a proving how “historical determinism’’ has a faulty logic, since the fact that there is a deficiency in an opposing logic does not necessarily imply that an alternative logic must be better simply because it does not have that deficiency. The other problem with Carr’s use of the Russian Revolution is his assumption that the supposed currency of the Russian Revolution as a “modern historical’’ problem has greater importance than “older’’ events such as the Norman Con- quest or the American Revolution. Carr believes that there is a greater desire to remember “options’’ still available for a more recently concluded historical event than much older ones. Carr claims that the expression of diverse passions from non-historians makes it hard for them to accept conclusions of a historian who merely recounts an event as it happened (19). Carr does seem to show why “historical determinism’’ is popular, but his analogy does not necessarily prove why “historical determinism’’ is an unhistorical logic. All events eventually get forgotten to certain degrees in which some facts are going to be better known than others, but it is primarily a historian’s scholarly curiosity which determines the importance of a historical event. Since every historian must have different reasons for believing that a historical event is important, the only impediment with regard to time would be the availability or lack of primary sources rather than a poverty of a historian’s imagination or will to realize innovation. “Older’’ events were once “modern’’ and therefore, importance is inherently a subjective standard which arises from the question of how well individuals remember events. People do remember events which are closer to their immediate memories better than older ones in terms of general details, but squabbling over how alternative causes behind an event might have changed the actual outcome is not necessarily the only reason for which a “modern event’’ must be remembered better than an older event. Christopher Columbus died believing that he had discovered “India” instead of the Caribbean, but the fact that the person might engage in a “historically deterministic’’ debate about how the course of history might have been different had Columbus really landed in North America does not necessarily mean that the person would not engage in historical determinism about other historical events, especially if the person has a passionate interest about them. Chronological distance has no definite correlation with interest because the latter is not necessarily dependent on time but rather on this person’s intellectual curiosity regardless of the event’s currency to the immediate present. Furthermore, thinking historically is a capability, not a matter of predilection. Even if that person remembers the IMF Crisis better than Columbus’s discovery of the Caribbean, it does not follow that “unhistorical’’ suppositions such as “if Columbus had set sail for Africa instead, he would have never discovered the Caribbean” are not relevant to historical thinking. A “cause’’ is not some given concept or model; one has to think through a selection of reasons behind an event to determine which reasons were essential and which ones were merely auxiliary or unimportant in precipitating the occurrence of a phenomenon. Counterfactual reasoning can help a historian think through a rationale for why a supposed cause is actually a noteworthy one; the only caution is to only think through counter- factual claims, not write them down as part of the actual historical reasoning. In other words, the clarity of memory does not necessarily lead to more “historically deterministic debates’’ because logical clarity is independent from the question of whether that logic is “historically deterministic.’’ It is perfectly logical to assume that if Columbus had not been adept at sailing when he was young, then he would have not made the voyage to the Caribbean, for one is only thinking about the causal logic of actions in a given situation and time period without describing the historical consequences of those actions. Thinking about historical events does not always have to imply that one is only thinking about history in terms of chronology, for situational logicality is also important to fathom causality in action, which is what gives contextual meaning and significance to time. Moreover, “historical determinism’’ is an attitude about a particular event or a specific set of events for which a different outcome would have been likely had causes been also different from ones which were originally suggested. Why assume that a desire to adopt such an attitude is stronger with a modern event than a more chronologically distant one? The expression of a particular attitude is not necessarily dependent on how new or old an event is, and chronic difference between a historical event and the individual who is remembering the event may vary ac- cording to the individual who decides to remember it. Yet, emotional attachment to a particular event need not inversely relate with chronological distance because reasons for recollection are far too varied to summarize merely as a function of time. As long as “modern’’ is a relative term expressed from the viewpoint of certain individuals and groups, there will be no rigid standard to determine which memories constitute “modern history.” Moreover, if the historian’s task is to select an “ultimate cause’’ of a particular event, how can a historian be so sure that there is an “ultimate cause’’ without ranking a supposedly “historically deterministic’’ cause? The danger of falling into “historical determinism’’ is not a good reason to avoid considering hypothetical claims, because a historian can always change hypotheses into positive statements by searching for relevant primary and secondary sources to test whether or not there is sufficient evidence to prove its validity. The suitability of a historical cause’s use as part of a historical argument is first and foremost dependent on how reliable that cause is. Carr’s other main concern about historical causality is the disturbing use of the concept of “accidents’’ in history as synonymous with the idea of “no causation.’’ The primary example that he uses to illustrate his critique is “Robinson’s accident.’’ Carr gives a hypothetical example of Robinson, who was crossing the street to buy cigarettes but was unexpectedly struck and killed by an oncoming car. However, if the driver was intoxicated, was driving a car with defective brakes, and hit Robinson in a dark alley where barely anything was visible, what was the actual cause of the accident—Robinson, the defective brakes, the dark alley, or the drunk driver? Instead of answering his own inquiry, Carr states that if two passers-by were to give the opinion that Robinson was killed because he was a heavy smoker, and that had he not gone out to buy the cigarettes, there would have been no accident, they would be employing a “kind of remorseless logic found in Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass .’’ Carr concludes by remarking that such hypothetical reasoning is not a mode of thought appropriate for history (20). The main deficiency he finds in the concept of “accidents’’ is that an “accident’’ is also an historical event. It is therefore subject to a historian’s analysis of preceding causes leading to the occurrence of the accident. In other words, “accidents’’ cannot escape a historian’s scrutiny just because they seemingly occur without any single clear cause. However complex an accident may be, Carr believes that there is still a hierarchy amongst causes behind an accident which allows the historian to discern between primary causes and auxiliary or negligible ones. The historian’s ability to discern “relevant facts’’ from “irrelevant facts’’ until there is a “rational quilt of knowledge,’’ represents an approximation of a historian’s working mind (21). Unfortunately, Carr does not give a clear answer to the critical question, how does this discernment actually work in practice? There are two ironic errors that Carr commits in telling this narrative. First, despite Carr’s attempt to show why “accidents’’ are still valid elements to consider in historical thinking, he chose the wrong type of example; his example is purely unhistorical. We are only present- ed with a sequence of actions within one ‘historical’ moment rather than several different yet interconnected events across a wide span of time. When historians consider an accident and its causes, they always consider the accident’s relative importance to other events, figures, or conditions. To declare that an event is “historical’’ is to designate a relational quality which suggests that an event has a “historical significance’’ which can describe the event’s relationship or value by connecting with other events, figures, or conditions. If one is ever inclined to declare that a single event alone is historically significant, it can only happen because one presupposes that the event is already well-known because of its relationship with preceding or simultaneous events. For example, from Archduke Ferdinand’s viewpoint, his assassination by Gavrilo Princip was an accident. However, before investigating the causes of the assassination, the historian must establish a rationale to explain why studying the assassination is important. In the case of Archduke Ferdinand, the historian, using a bit of hindsight, can argue that the assassination began a massive wave of violence which rattled across the European continent and ignited the sparks of World War I. By contrast, in Carr’s example, we are not given a reason to believe that studying Robinson’s accident is historically worthwhile. In other words, because Carr did not explain the “historicity’’ of Robinson’s accident, we are not presented with a credible reason to believe that this is a historical event. Carr’s second error is that if we consider Carr’s reason for invoking Robinson’s accident as an example, the example does not illustrate a necessity or method to find multiple causes in historical analysis. If a historian’s prime objective in search- ing for multiple causes is to search for an ultimate cause for a historical phenomenon, then Carr ought to have shown how a historian might approach Robinson’s case as a historical phenomenon. His conclusion that a historian engages selectively with causes is not actually a literal answer to any of his two-part question: 1) How does a historian choose multiple causes? and 2) How does a historian actually select an “ultimate cause’’ from those multiple causes? This is because there is no reason to assume that there must be a single cause for Robinson’s accident at all unless Robinson himself or the driver told the police that there was actually one cause to the accident. Even if the driver had told the police that there was only one cause, it is purely the driver’s own opinion which may or may not be corroborated by other witnesses or circumstantial evidence. From an unassuming observer’s point of view, there is no exact means to verify a sequence of events and pinpoint a singular cause because the observer did not encounter Robinson’s accident in real time along with Robinson. Insofar as this difference between an observer and Robinson exists, there will always be a gulf between speculations and the actual truth. Indeed, because of this gulf, the real moral of Robinson’s accident ought to have been that searching for multiple causes is necessary for a historian to account for every possible explanation of a phenomenon, since the point of finding possible causes of an accident is to establish that an accident can be explained to convince people that the accident can be perceived as an accident. Carr’s argument that one should establish a “hierarchy of causes” implies that there is a particular cause which outranks others in terms of importance. However, there is no such thing as an absolute verification of a truth’s minute details for the historian, unless, very rarely, absolute verification is a necessary condition to prove the soundness of his or her main arguments. A historian is obliged to consider as many aspects of a past event, but no one can know every single detail to get a complete and impeccable picture of an event. The historian has the right to exercise a liberty of imagination based on primary sources and eye-witness accounts, but the historian must also understand that his or her tools to unearth historical facts also delineate the parameters of epistemological certainty. Moreover, Robinson’s example also poses the question of how a historian deter- mines a cause of an accident as an accident, a process that is limited by the quantity and quality of evidence one can find. Since the parameter of what constitutes historical knowledge is bound to change depending on which sources this historian can find, Carr is actually unable to answer the first part of his question. Further- more, because the parameters of knowledge are at the mercy of the availability of historical sources, an attachment to the belief that there must be an ultimate cause is both unrealistic and false, which is why Carr is never able to give a clear answer to the second part of his question. Historical causes are not tangible and therefore cannot be visually compared with each other. Of course, if a historian is writing an autobiography and writes a history of his or her life from what he or she remembers, then, there might be some liberty for the historian to rank causes and choose the ultimate one. In such a case, there is no basis from which another historian can ask why the causes were ranked in one way but not another, because every mind has but one master. The absence of a hierarchy among causes does not imply an absence of certain- ty or that historians ought to be skeptical about everything they encounter. To the contrary, there are undeniable truths in history such as the Holocaust or Russian pogroms of the 19th century. Rather, acknowledging a multiplicity of causes al- lows for a holistic consideration of multiple dimensions of a historical event from which causal explanations can be drawn, which actually prevents a historian from engaging in “historical determinism.” If the objective of studying a historical event is, as Carr claims, to search for one cause with absolute explanatory power, then the historian is actually engaging in ‘historical determinism’ because such an objective reflects the idea’s actual essence. Hence, Carr’s opposition to “historical determinism,’’ which was precisely because he believed in the multiplicity of causes, does not logically follow from invoking Robinson’s example. Furthermore, the witnesses in Robinson’s accident were actually reflecting Carr’s faith in the multiplicity of causes, so the next task was for Carr to show how he could select his ‘ultimate cause’ for explaining why Robinson died. Instead, Carr vaguely suggests that the historian has to be selective about his causes without explaining the end to which this selectivity has value. Hence, Robinson’s example is actually a Straw Man argument because the original purpose for which the example was mentioned does not become clear until Carr supplies a rationale for justifying a hierarchy of causes. As for how and why the hierarchy fundamentally exists, Carr never gives a clear answer. Therefore, Robinson’s death merely illustrates an argument about an element which is not extant in any of Carr’s arguments prior to his discussion of Robinson’s death. 5. Three Central Problems with Carr’s Methodology in “Causation in History’’ In this concluding section, I will identify three central problems with Carr’s method which will serve as a summary of this paper’s main arguments. First, Carr’s notion of a hierarchy of causes and its importance in historical explanation is unfortunately quite nebulous because he never specifies the purpose be- hind the existence of the hierarchy, ignoring the true function of historical causes as a form of scientific processing. Second, Carr’s distinction between “rational” and “accidental” causes is not valid because regardless of an event’s nature, multiple causes are necessary to account for inherent complexities in any historical event and such causes ultimately serve as evidence for a historian’s claim, which means that the more causes a historian can find, the more reliable and believable a historian’s account becomes. On the one hand, multiple causes are necessary to describe different facets of a phenomenon; a historian will summarize his or her main arguments to show readers how those facets constitute the “wholeness’’ of a historical fact. On the other hand, there needs to be a multiplicity in the kinds of causal analysis a historian uses to approximately position arguments within a given subfield of History. Finally, Carr is wrong to suggest that causes determine a historian’s interpretation because the former is just a means for which the historian has the freedom to determine an end. Causes are merely building blocks with which a historian constructs an independently designed interpretation. With regard to Carr’s questions about how a historian chooses multiple causes and selects an “ultimate cause” among them, I argue that the only certainty a historian can have comes from ascertaining that the nature of a cause aligns with the field in which it must be accurately used. When a historian asks the question, ‘Why was Archduke Ferdinand assassinated?’ the historian implicitly means that, in general, he or she is looking for political causes specifically related to nationalist motivations behind the assassination and its impact on the outbreak of World War I, rather than cultural or social causes behind the rise of nationalism in a general sense. An argument can be made that such distinctions can be interchangeable, since Gavrilo Princip’s association with the Black Hand was a culturally motivated expression of a desire to express Serbian nationalism. However, “political’’ and “cultural’’ cannot be so liberally applied in an interchangeable manner because they are merely generic labels conceived under the assumption that historians and the general public know that such a distinction can exist. A historian may find out that Gavrilo Princip preferred Serbian circuses to Austrian ones, but one does not use this cultural fact to describe anything with sufficient certainty about Princip’s personal decision to assassinate Ferdinand, even if there is nothing mentioned in primary sources about it. The transformation of a fact into a cause is actually a fixed relationship, in which a fact can become a cause, but a cause alone can never become a fact. The historian’s designation of an occurrence as a cause reflects a personal belief that an element within a historical figure’s character or a historical event has some reasonable degree of explanatory power. History is, in general, filled with facts, but it is the conditional possibility of several facts turning into believable causes of a historical phenomenon which truly excites the historian. Causes are essentially facts whose relationship amongst themselves and the phenomenon which they wish to explain is firmly and convincingly established by a rich array of primary sources. Facts which hardly need any source-based proof are not likely to become causes because they are generic and mundane enough to be independent of any historical situation. In short, what Carr really means by “a hierarchy of causes’’ is that not all causes are created equal. The real problem is that Carr never really demonstrated what a hierarchy of causes is. While it may not be possible to definitively identify which types of causes matter more than others, Carr ought to have at least shown how a hierarchy among causes can be conceived. Yet, the real heart of the matter is that Carr could not actually show his audience that a hierarchy among causes exists because there is no singular standard of a “hierarchy,’’ other than what a scholar perceives through a meticulous reading of the relevant historical literature. That Carr could not provide a concrete hierarchy strongly suggests the impossibility of doing so because different hierarchies of causation matter for different subfields of History. Movement of capital, markets, and industrial structure in the early 18th century matter more as direct causes be- hind the Industrial Revolution than as causes behind the death of the Avant Garde in the late 20th century. The difference in subfields also translates to differences in particular “states of the field,” or the variance in the levels of academic discourse about various historical topics, leading to different developments in varying facets of historical inquiry. The nature of primary or secondary sources a historian must search for necessarily depends on the questions the historian wishes to answer in relation to how certain historical topics have been addressed in the existing scholarly literature. In other words, a search for primary or secondary sources is a dependent variable of “current’’ historical scholarship because the main function of amassing historical information is to facilitate a productive and meaningful scholarly debate. This debate, in turn, will invite future generations of historians to construct new angles and roads along which the debate must continue. Moreover, because proving causality in historical analysis can only be done through a meticulous examination of primary and secondary sources, it follows that the richness in illustrating historical causality is dependent on the availability of sources. In short, ascribing a strict sense of a hierarchical notion of historical causality is impossible because of three main variables: multiple causes and multiplicity in the kinds of causes, a rigid relationship between facts and causes, in which only the former can transform into the latter, and finally, differences in subfields and varying conditions in historiography, which imply that a historian must pragmatically conceive of a hierarchy of causes which reflects the availability of primary and secondary sources and their ability to cogently deliver a progressive view or methodological contribution to the existing scholarship. The second major problem with Carr’s method is his misconstrued distinction between “rational’’ and “accidental’’ causes. An “accidental’’ cause is a misnomer because no cause can arise without a reason. Even the most unexpected events have clear causes because searching for causation is essentially identical to search- ing for reasonable connections previously ignored or overlooked. Furthermore, if Carr himself acknowledged that ‘accidental’ causes need to undergo strict academic scrutiny as much as “rational’’ causes, then what he really means is that a scholar must have the same approach and attitude toward “accidental’’ causes as he or she has toward “rational’’ or normal causes. Yet, Carr does not illustrate how a historian actually investigates “rational’’ causes because he is interested in comparing “accidental’’ causes with “rational’’ ones rather than demonstrating how a historian uses each type of cause to con- struct a historical analysis or make an observation. In practice, Carr did not have to make a distinction between the two causes. A historian can propose rational explanations for supposedly accidental causes, and once this is done, there is no difference between “rational’’ and “accidental’’ causes. I will illustrate my point by comparing Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon as a “rational’’ event, and Pierre Curie’s carriage accident as a literally “accidental’’ event. I will show how these two events deserve equally serious scholarly attention because they all involve the same process of investigation, regardless of an event’s nature. Caesar’s decision to cross the Rubicon would be a rational event because the crossing itself is a “reasonable’’ action in that a man mounted on horseback can cross a river because he has the will and means to do so. Such an action can be expected, for regardless of what the Roman Senate thought, Caesar only had two choices: defy the Senate by crossing the river or obey the Senate and let them limit his actions. Caesar’s decision to cross the Rubicon was not “surprising’’ as an action in itself; neither would the decision not to cross be surprising, unless Caesar somehow died for reasons unrelated to the crossing. By contrast, Pierre Curie’s carriage accident is not a rational event because the exact circumstances are open to much speculation. We do not know so many de- tails about how Marie Curie’s husband died, but it would hardly matter whether the driver of the carriage or Pierre Curie was drunk or whether Curie was jogging when the driver lost control of the carriage and hit Curie at break-neck speed. What remains true independent from causes is that it was an accident because neither Curie nor the driver would have expected to run into each other, for they were no mutual acquaintances. According to Carr, the rationality of a cause does not affect its historical investigation, making both “rational” and “accidental” causes garner the same approach. Although Carr never defines what a “rational’’ event is, since human beings are responsible for creating events, it follows that what is rational is what can be expected within the realm of reasonable human behavior and thought. If the primary function of historical causes is to explain why a phenomenon, regardless of its nature, occurred, then identifying how an accident became an accident is in itself an explanation, no matter how unexpected or unforeseeable the accident must have been to the people involved in it. However, regardless of how much we know or do not know about Caesar or Pierre Curie, the principles of research remain identical. A historian must first amass all records on the crossing of the Rubicon and Pierre Curie’s accident, gather any witness testimonies to corroborate on controversial or obscure aspects of each case, perform a theoretical analysis of causes and speculations, and finally, arrive at reasonable conclusions based on the existing evidence. The rationality of the research process which is common to both events is what makes a study of the two events rational, for the nature of an event does not necessarily reflect or dictate the nature of the means with which one ought to study each event. If accidents, like rational events, also have causes, then Carr ought to have shown how “accidents’’ could be considered the antithesis of rational events. An accident is unexpected, but is not irrational, for every cause of an accident is borne from actions which the individuals involved consider rational. If two speeding cars collide, it could be an accident borne from the drivers’ disregard for the speed limit, or from one driver’s inebriation. Still regardless of whether it is due to mis- handling the car or personal flaws, none of the causes are irrational. Disregarding the speed limit or drinking heavily may have been a mistake, but neither of these activities are incapable of having a logic ascribed to them, for a historian can still argue that committing these mistakes, regardless of their severity, contributed to the occurrence of the accident. Insofar as all actions have causes and motives in their creation, the historian is obliged to study them with an eye towards collecting all relevant facts, an action unrelated to how rational or irrational a historical event may seem. It is because, as I argued through the example of Caesar crossing the Rubicon and Pierre Curie’s accident, no elements are beyond the reasonably expected scope of human behavior. Regardless of whether an event was planned or turned out to be an accident, what remains constant in both cases is that there are various actions a person can take at a particular time, and every action will have a distinct set of reasons. Carr’s distinction between rational and “irrational’’ causes is therefore, a faulty comparison, for there is no clear reason given to believe that accidents are inherently “irrational,’’ and because historians can also surmise about causes behind accidents insofar as accidents are human-induced events. The final point of this paper is that a historian’s personal selection of causes does not dictate a singular direction of interpretation. Establishing causation and providing interpretation are independently creative activities conjoined by the necessity to give coherence to a historian’s general argument. Carr seems to believe that a historian is reflecting private opinions through a selection of causes, but the selection is only the means to the ultimate end-to generate a unique interpretation which does not necessarily reflect what the causes themselves have to say about a topic. Causes in and of themselves reflect no emotions; until the historian judges the causes to be positive or negative in nature in relation to the argument he or she wants to make from the causes, causes are merely guidelines and building blocks to the overall argument which gives the essential structure to the historian’s logic. Causes merely reflect a historian’s judgment about a possibility in believing that a phenomenon happened in one direction. The real essence of the historian’s argument lies in what the historian thinks about the phenomenon, not the causes. The historian’s attention must not be limited to understanding how a car’s assembly line malfunctioned, but be extended to observe how the car as a finished product qualitatively suffers as a result of faults in the assembly line. Carr’s argument about causes might be feasible if a historian is trying to find out the causes behind a historical tragedy, but even in this case, the historian’s real argument is about proving one can see that it was a tragedy. For example, if the sinking of the Titanic was truly due to a crash into an iceberg, and a historian proves that indeed it was so, the moral of the research is not just that “a ship hit an iceberg and sank.” Rather, the moral is that because of this linkage, one can conclude that it was a terrible accident and a tragedy. Even if a historian should conclude with identifying the iceberg as the cause of the tragedy, the identification of the cause does not dictate the interpretation of the phenomenon because interpretation is not about identifying what or why something happened. Instead, interpretation is concerned with what one should observe from the structure of a historical phenomenon that emerges from identifying the cause behind the phenomenon. Identifying causes alone does not make the study of History interesting; one needs to show how causes function to produce original observations about a holistic phenomenon that emerges from showing a causal relationship between or within a series of linked phenomena. Once a general picture of a historical phenomenon emerges, every historian can have a glimpse into how the phenomenon got concluded, no matter how many diverse facts about it are unearthed. Yet, the most interesting question in historical research is not what happened, but how an event unfolded to produce a particular result. In answering “how,’’ every historian is bound to focus on diverse and specific causes to explain the general outcome. Most historians will not focus on what the importance of a particular cause is simply by analyzing the cause in its own terms but on what that cause means in relation to a web of other multiple causes. Furthermore, since a cause is but one element in a historian’s interpretation of relations between phenomena; what are termed “causes’’ were actually phenomena happening in real time for historical actors. Therefore, the originality of historical interpretation does not arise simply from cherry-picking elements from a single phenomenon to serve as “causes’’ but in linking multiple phenomena into one grand narrative. In creating this grand narrative, the historian’s goal is to show how the phenomena relate to each other, and therefore to produce an original view about how to understand the relationship. What Carr’s arguments do show is that a search for causes and causation is worthwhile because every historical cause originally begins from ascertaining historical facts, which in turn, helps a historian discover and rationally explain new discoveries. Moreover, historical causes need to delineate boundaries between various subfields in History to assure that each field employs appropriate causes which best explain a phenomenon under scrutiny. Furthermore, a proper search for historical causation must not engage in a distinction between ‘rational’ and ‘accidental’ causes because all causes are valuable insofar as they serve the primary function of explaining what happened and why an event occurred. Insofar as the historian’s duty to tell the true sequence of actions behind an event remains valid for all rational or accidental incidents, a historian must concentrate on finding causes to fulfill a cause’s fundamental purpose. Finally, causes are building blocks to facilitate an original and interesting interpretation of a historical event, but causes alone do not possess the power to determine the entire direction of an interpretation. An incisive eye for finding accurate explanations must combine with a historian’s unique imagination and vision to recreate a believable “image’’ of a reality that corresponds closely to the truth which the historian found. The combination can only come about smoothly if a discovery of causes and an original analysis of the significance of the discovery are independent and not concurrent activities of an inquisitive scholarly mind. A respect for a cause’s individuality that is distinct from a historical fact, a respect for a cause’s explanatory prowess rather than its rational or accidental nature, and a separation between the discovery and interpretation of causes are essential to the pursuit of History as a rigorous, liberal, and original science. Endnotes 1 Bernard Barber, “Review of What is History? by Edward Hallett Carr,” American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 68, No. 2 (September, 1962), 260-262; Seymour Itzkoff, “Review of What is History? by Edward Hallett Carr,” History of Education Quarterly, Vol. 2, No. 2 (June, 1962), 132-134; Jacob Price, “Review of What is History?: The George-Macaulay Trevelyan Lectures Delivered in the University of Cambridge, January-March 1961 by Edward Hallett Carr,” History and Theory, Vol. 3, No. 1 (1963), 136-145; Patrick Gardiner, “Review of What Is History? by E. H. Carr,” The Philosophical Review, Vol. 73, No. 4 (October, 1964), 557-559. 2 Aviezer Tucker, “Causation in Historiography,” in Aviezer Tucker ed., A Companion to the Philosophy of History and Historiography (Chichester, United Kingdom: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 101. 3 Ann Frazier, “The Criterion of Historical Knowledge,” Journal of Thought, Vol. 11, No. 1 (January, 1976), 66-67. 4 Geoffrey Partington, “Relativism, Objectivity, and Moral Judgment,” Journal of Educational Studies, Vol. 27, No. 2 (June, 1979), 125-139. 5 Ann Talbot, “Chance and Necessity in History: E. H. Carr and Leon Trotsky Compared,” Historical Social Research, Vol. 34, No. 3 (2009), 95. 6 Edward Hallett Ibid (New York: Pantheon Books, 1961), 116. 7 Carr, What is History?, 117. 8 Ibid, 121-122. 9 Ibid, 122-123. 10 Ibid, 126. 11 Ibid, 133. 12 Ibid, 137. 13 Ibid, 134. 14 Ibid, 135. 15 Ibid, 141. 16 Ibid, 142. 17 Ibid, 143. 18 Ibid, 127. 19 Ibid, 136. 20 Ibid, 138. In the actual passage, he calls it the “Dodgsonian mode” after the author of Through the Looking Glass. 21 Ibid, 136. References Barber, Bernard, “Review of What is History? by Edward Hallett Carr,” American Journal of Sociology , Vol. 68, No. 2 (September, 1962), 260-262. Edward Hallett Ibid (New York: Pantheon Books, 1961). Frazier, Ann, “The Criterion of Historical Knowledge,” Journal of Thought , Vol. 11, No. 1 (January, 1976), 60-67. Gardiner, Patrick, “Review of What Is History? by E. H. Carr,” The Philosophical Review , Vol. 73, No. 4 (October, 1964), 557-559. Itzkoff, Seymour, “Review of What is History? by Edward Hallett Carr,” History of Education Quarterly , Vol. 2, No. 2 (June, 1962), 132-134. Partington, Geoffrey, “Relativism, Objectivity, and Moral Judgment,” British Journal of Educational Studies , Vol. 27, No. 2 (June, 1979), 125-139. Price, Jacob, “Review of What is History?: The George-Macaulay Trevelyan Lectures Delivered in the University of Cambridge, January-March 1961 by Edward Hallett Carr,” History and Theory , Vol. 3, No. 1 (1963), 136-145. Talbot, Ann, “Chance and Necessity in History: E. H. Carr and Leon Trotsky Compared,” Historical Social Research , Vol. 34, No. 3 (2009), 88-96. Tucker, Aviezer, “Causation in Historiography,” in Tucker, Aviezer ed., A Companion to the Philosophy of History (Chichester, United Kingdom: Wiley-Black- well, 2011), 98-108. Previous Next

Moral Manipulation A Kantian Take on Advertising and Campaigning Sylvia Gunn The Australian National University Author Ebba Brunnstrom Grace Engelman Matthew Flathers Editors Fall 2018 Kantian moral philosophy applied to appeals to emotion in advertising and campaigning; analysis, comparison and critique. The ethics of manipulation are important for anyone whose goals rely on changing people’s behavior, but who do not wish to violate moral laws. Kant’s emphasis on avoiding the violation of others’ humanity makes his philosophy particularly applicable to this topic. Although Kantian philosophy tells us that lying is immoral, the status of appealing to animal instincts is unclear. This essay will define a common maxim to describe these appeals in advertising and campaigning, and analyze this maxim under each formulation of Kant’s categorical imperative. Previous work has considered the ethics of advertising, Kantian and otherwise, without making the comparison to campaigning. This article will shine further light on the importance of understanding the value of emotion in Kantian philosophy, rather than rejecting appeals to emotion entirely. Kantian philosophy requires that we define a maxim to describe the action, and its context, and its intention, in order to analyze an agent’s choice and its moral implications. This essay takes ‘appeals to emotion’ and ‘appeals to animal nature’ to refer to the same behavior, namely the use of persuasive techniques to create an instinctual or emotional response in our target, rather than a purely rational response. In the Kantian sense, rationality refers to one’s deliberate actions, which can take into account emotions, higher order desires, and moral considerations. The examples of advertising and campaigning will aid in this discussion. To avoid consideration of a ‘cool-off period’ during which the emotional response might wear off or be rationally processed, we will assume that the target can act immediately in response to the appeal. The advertiser wishes to convince people to buy their product or service, and uses appeals to serve this purpose. For example, an insurance salesperson might appeal to fear, recounting tales of disasters to compel potential customers to buy the most comprehensive plans. Alternatively, a company may use associative advertising, which involves portraying someone who uses the product or service as happy, successful, or otherwise benefitted, without explicitly claiming that the product creates this result. Conversely, the campaigner may make an appeal to empathy, displaying images of starving children in order to compel potential supporters to donate. The maxim, in both cases, is “Where it serves my purpose, I will make an appeal to my target’s animal instincts, to encourage them to do what I want”. In order to determine whether my maxim is permissible in Kant, we shall put it through all three formulations of the categorical imperative in the Groundwork to the Metaphysics of Morals. The categorical imperative is intended to be a universal concept of morality, acceptable to all moral beings. Kant claims that there is “only a single categorical imperative”[1] which is the formula of universal law. The other formulations, that of humanity and that of the kingdom of ends, are alternative ways of spelling out the same moral ideals. Each provides guidance, particularly when maxims are vague and manipulable, or when some formulation does not produce clear results. The first half of this essay analyses the maxim under Kant’s three formulations, concluding that appeals are only ethical in the Kantian sense when there is a certain degree of certainty that the target knows that those appeals are occurring. The first formulation, the formula for universal law, tells us that maxims are only acceptable if it would be possible and acceptable for them to become universal law. According to this formula, emotional appeals are not wholly unacceptable, but they may in some cases interfere with my other ends. The second formulation, the formula for humanity, tells us that one must never violate another’s autonomy or rational capacity. Thus, appeals are only acceptable if my target is aware of their occurrence. Finally, the third formulation, the kingdom of ends, requires me to act on the expectation that others are generally rational, although they can be temporarily overcome by emotion. Thus I should make appeals only when the context makes it clear that appeals are occurring – such as in advertising slots. Moreover, in situations where I can gauge whether the person is engaging rationally, I need not exercise the same caution before the appeal is made. This implies that direct interactions, such as campaign conversations, may allow for stronger appeals to emotion than broadcast communications such as adverts. This does not draw out a clear distinction between the use of appeals in advertising and their use in campaigning, but it does give both campaigners and door-to-door salespeople some extra scope. The second section of this essay discusses two issues with this conclusion. Firstly, it fails to distinguish between appeals to harmless emotions and emotions that reflect harmful societal norms. Secondly, it does not take into account the larger good consequences of an action, particularly relating to campaigning. These objections constitute a rejection of Kantian philosophy, which does not allow for any sacrifice of human rationality for the greater good, in favor of a pluralist philosophy. Rather than a weakness, this second objection could describe a strength of Kantian philosophy: it provides a framework for a theory of slow and sure social change, which does not rely on human’s animal instincts, but only their rationality. Existing Literature Philips considers the question of emotionally manipulative advertising in relation to multiple ethical frameworks and concludes that the Kantian perspective would rule it out. His consideration of the formula of universal law finds that you should not engage in manipulative advertising that would work on you, as the universalization of this maxim would see you manipulated, which conflicts with your other ends. Interpreting Kant’s formula for humanity to mean that one must not override the will by appealing to emotion, he initially finds that his maxim does not treat humanity as an end in itself. He then provides a reshaped maxim that characterizes appeals as an argument that the target engages with rationally. To Phillips, it is unclear which of these maxims is correct under the Kantian account.[2] My account, in contrast, will apply Kantian moral psychology to appeals, incorporating the target’s engagement with the appeal. Partially because of this, and partially because my maxim only includes appeals that will work to some extent if the target is aware of its occurrence, my conclusion is different from Phillips' version. In contrast, Phillips’ maxim includes subliminal messaging, which works exclusively when the target does not know that they are occurring. Kant addresses some related topics that aid the discussion of this question, without directly addressing the issue at hand. These examples provide context to the question, and allow for assessment of our interpretation of Kant. If an interpretation changes the conclusions that we have already accepted, that interpretation is not hugely accurate to the original ideas. Beyond that, Herman’s perspective on interpretations is a good guide: it is enough to argue that one can [interpret it that way]. The rest should be decided by the fruitfulness of the concept.’[3] Rather than try to find the opinion that Kant would have held, particularly considering that his views on many issues were inconsistent with his philosophy,[4] we should develop an interpretation based on the parts of Kant’s philosophy that we accept. Kant’s discussion of the false promise finds it immoral under each formulation of the categorical imperative. The maxim ‘[I will,] when hard pressed, make a promise with the intention not to keep it’ is not universalizable, as it would not be possible if everybody applied it by law, and everyone thus became aware that promises held no value.[5] Moreover, it violates the target’s humanity on two counts. Firstly, they are unable to give or withhold consent to the lie, and secondly, they would not agree to the promise if they knew it were a lie. Deception is comparable but not equivalent to appeals to animal instinct, which can involve deception of the will. If levels of manipulation can be placed on a scale, depending on the extent that informed choice is taken from the target, the lying promise is a well-defined immoral upper bound. Kant’s discussion of our duties towards animals and children are also relevant to this discussion; they give insights into our treatment of irrational actions. Rather than interacting with less rational beings, my maxim involves appealing to the less rational instincts within rational beings. In doing this, we should acknowledge that people have different capacities for rationality. In relation to animals, one’s duty is to avoid unnecessary mistreatment, but this is primarily to protect our own moral senses. Some interpretations of Kant have expanded on these duties based on animals’ partial rationality.[6] It is also acceptable to treat children and the mentally impaired differently from fully rational adults, but with more restrictions again, noting their partial or changing levels of rationality. In valuing rationality, we should promote and enhance the rationally of such beings,[7] without holding them as responsible as we do fully rational adults. The Formula for Universal Law According to Kantian analysis, there is no perfect duty against the maxim of appeal to emotion. A perfect duty exists against a maxim where it would not be possible to will it if it were universal law.[8] Although the concept of a maxim being universal law is contested, it essentially means that any rational agent who found themself in the same context with the same intention would perform the same action. Unlike in the example of the lying promise explained above, appeals to animal nature can still be effective even when people are aware that they might be occurring, and even when people know for sure that they are happening. In our insurance advertising example, awareness of an emotional argument does not dissipate our fear that the same disasters could befall us. Knowledge that an appeal is occurring makes us more critical of the appeal in the same way that knowledge of a news publication being biased will make us more critical of the way it presents the facts. Thus, the maxim may be less likely to make the target do what I want if the maxim is universalized, but it will still encourage them. For example, a rational response to an associative advertisement for perfume would be to acknowledge that the positive emotions evoked might make me enjoy the product more, allowing this to influence my decision to buy it, along with the actual smell of the perfume, its price and my perception of the company. Universalization of my maxim would weaken its effect, but allow it the same meaning and similar result. Whether there is an imperfect duty against this maxim is indeterminate. The imperfect duty exists where the establishment of my maxim as universal law conflicts with my other end(s). A world where people, as universal law, appeal to animal instinct rather than rationality whenever it suits them could inhibit the realization of one’s other ends in a range of ways. The most obvious of these is if others used the appeals to change my behavior and in the process abandon my original ends. Phillips argues that this would only rule out making appeals that I know would work on me, which would not make for universal moral duty between different people.[9] However, this interpretation simplifies universalization, which would be a rather complex process. As Rawls argues, the formula for universal law creates an “adjusted social world” wherein agents practice such appeals as though it is inherent to their nature.[10] The existence of such a social world could involve a range of things, depending on how the idea of universal law is understood. At one extreme, we would not be able to tell when we ourselves are making these appeals, and they thus would be almost unrecognizable when others were making them to us. This would make us more susceptible to them and thus more likely to be swayed against our will. The opposite extreme, that we are aware of these appeals but still unable to stop ourselves from making them, would have different implications. The appeals would still work in some cases, but they would presumably fail whenever they were not adequately appealing to the will, which would be aware of the appeals, and decide rationally to accept them on the basis of emotional desires. However, the best interpretation seems to be somewhere in between these: although we would recognize these appeals sometimes, we would not understand them well enough to always recognize them. If this maxim were to be taken as a universal law like gravity or Pythagoras’ Theorem, it would gradually be increasingly understood through science – in particular, psychology and behavioral science. The exact effect of universalizing this maxim is, due to this complexity, unclear. The Formula for Humanity Kant’s formula of humanity as an end in itself gives us significantly clearer guidance for the maxim. Kant requires not that we never use other rational beings as means, as that would be near impossible, but that we never use them merely as means.[11] Any act where someone uses another as a means to an end consensually is acceptable. For example, if Alice buys a coffee from a barista at a mutually acceptable rate, they have both acted morally, despite Alice using the barista as her means to acquire a coffee, and the barista using Alice as their means to acquire money. However, we do not owe the same duty to irrational beings. It is the presence of a will that makes someone human, and it is this humanity to which one owes consent. Two different characterizations of humans’ decision-making capacities, which we shall respectively call ‘irrational’ and ‘rational’, point us to similar conclusions, but with slightly different implications. Kant describes our decision-making as generally rational, except in the cases where our emotions become “affects” and “passions”, and we lose some control of our actions, in which case we are irrational[12] . Under the irrational characterization, the will can be overridden by our animal nature. This occurs when people are under stress, or otherwise incapacitated, such that their emotions can override their rational sense. One common example of this phenomenon would be the ‘fight or flight’ response. In this case it is clear that my maxim conflicts with the formula of humanity. In the contexts described, I am using the target’s humanity as a means, as without it I could not get what I want. That is to say, I could not get money or political support from a child, robot or animal. However, rather than treating their humanity as an end, I am bypassing their humanity to appeal to their animal instincts, and gaining from their humanity in the process. Even if I ask for consent to make my appeal, or they have full knowledge that the appeal is occurring, if my target is behaving irrationally, the appeal can change their behavior by overriding the will and thus violating their humanity. It could be argued, as a rebuttal, that irrational persons are not deserving of this protection, as we have no moral duty to one without rational capacity. However, this would not constitute the protection of rational nature, which deserves regard even when it is incomplete or temporarily incapacitated.[13] This is why we have different duties surrounding addictive substances, and selling alcohol to the intoxicated. Like children, people behaving irrationally have latent rationality, and we should try to engage with that, rather than taking advantage of their irrationality. Under the second characterization, people are consistently rational, but animal instincts form inclinations that influence our behavior. Kant’s distinction in the original German between the willkür and wille helps aid this discussion. The willkür (will) ultimately makes the decisions, but animal inclinations and the wille (moral faculties) make up the arguments for the action. This concept is regularly characterized as ‘autonomy of the will’, which ‘is not the special achievement of the most independent, but a property of any reasoning being’.[14] Thus, the ‘appeal’ to animal instincts in my maxim does not make animal instincts decide for us, but strengthens the argument on behalf of those instincts. In this case, the target is able to consider their emotional response through their will, but surely only if they are aware that the argument is affecting their emotions. The target can only rationally engage with the appeal if they are aware of it, and this is a key factor to whether my maxim violates the target’s humanity. This has similarities with Phillips’ second interpretation of his maxim, wherein people treat emotional arguments as logical ones, assessing them from that perspective using the will. The maxim can be split into two scenarios to accommodate this change: “Where it serves my purpose, I will use persuasion to appeal to another person’s animal instincts without their knowledge, to encourage them to do what I want”. “Where it serves my purpose, I will use persuasion to appeal to another person’s animal instincts with their knowledge, to encourage them to do what I want”. In the first case, I consciously appeal to their animal instincts without their knowledge, using their humanity merely as a means to an end – they are furthering my political or economic goal in a way that a child or animal generally could not. However, in the second, the appeal to animal instincts is only as immoral as indulging one’s own animal instincts: it is an instance of a will allowing the animal instincts inherent in the human form to influence its behavior. The question that remains, on what counts as knowledge, deserves focused attention in the discussion of how this maxim would be treated by Kant’s formulation of the kingdom of ends. The Kingdom of Ends As we move into a discussion of the kingdom of ends, we have essential questions left to answer. The first formulation does not clarify our duty, but analysis of the second has ruled out appeals that my target is not consciously aware of. We still need a contextual definition of knowledge, and an account of how I may know my target possesses it. Clearly, appeals where they are completely unexpected are not allowed, as they involve a violation of trust and no opportunity for the will to make a decision. Thus, using subtle messaging to convince your friend to come to 350.org meetings is out of the question. Conversely, appeals where active consent has been gained are clearly acceptable. A door-to-door insurance salesperson who gains active consent to tell her tales of tragedy, noting that they may incite fear, should feel no qualms in doing so. However, the target’s knowledge does not necessarily require active consent. Advertising and campaigning occur in marked zones, like in television advert slots and conversations at stalls. People are aware of the norms in these areas, and not only are they able to physically tune out, they are also able to think and react critically. It would be overstepping the Kantian mark to say that we should only ever appeal to our target’s autonomous will, and never engage directly with their emotions. Abiding by such a rule would severely decrease one’s persuasive ability.[15] In a sense, this would constitute failure to respect one’s own subjective ends – the ends one desires to bring about, but which do not necessarily hold moral worth. Moreover, it is not our duty to make sure others act rationally – only to ensure that we are not violating their autonomy. While the easiest answer for the moral stickler is to consistently ask for the consent, or avoid emotional appeals altogether, those who do not wish to dampen the results of their business or campaign with unnecessarily bad persuasion should push further. Kant’s final formulation, the kingdom of ends, by his own account combines the preceding two formulations for a ‘systematic union of several rational beings through universal laws’.[16] In this moral kingdom, only humanity has ultimate worth, but rational beings’ subjective ends have substitutable value, which we have a duty to respect. Acting as though one were in the kingdom of ends involves interacting with others as though they are autonomous rational agents, giving them some degree of responsibility as well as some charity.[17] The weighing up of responsibility and charity is essential to determining the moral value and practical application of my maxim. Treating others as ends in the kingdom means not only allowing them consent, but also holding them responsible for their actions because they are a rational agent. In doing this we should be charitable, by taking into account moral education and relevant personal history, and by realizing that ‘even the best of us can slip’.[18] Korsgaard discusses judgments of rationality after someone else has acted, but the same judgments can be extended in considering the moral acceptability of an action that changes others’ actions. We have a moral obligation to judge people primarily using the second characterization of decision-making, which allows my maxim wherever the target has knowledge of the appeal. However, when we have good reason to believe their rationality is incapacitated, we should judge them under the first characterization. Within certain contexts, namely advertising and campaigning spaces, the consent to appeals to animal instincts are implicit – people are aware that these appeals happen, and they have freedom to opt out of these interactions. Moreover, in knowing that the appeals occur, they are able to engage critically with these appeals, using their will. However, a charitable view means realizing that sometimes my target will be irrational. Even though my intention is not to manipulate, a badly developed view of their rational capacities could mean that my appeal inadvertently treats them merely as a means. This is especially likely if my appeal is done with a parochial lack of awareness of the target’s culture and moral education.[19] We thus have a responsibility to gain knowledge of which maxims are likely to violate another’s human dignity, even if they would not do so if committed against us. For advertisers and campaigners, the target’s knowledge as a moral necessity means ruling out some forms of advertising, and making a concerted effort to consider the specific target audience, and avoid practices that would likely violate their autonomy. Although there will still be some risk of the target having a purely emotional response, dedicated and genuine engagement with this issue is in itself treating them as an end. Such consideration will also result in better engagement with the will, and has practical implications in terms of duty. Although these distinctions do not clearly separate campaigning and advertising, they do leave the tactics usually used by campaigners with more latitude. Advertising that purposely engages only with animal instincts is immoral. This means we have a perfect duty against advertising that tries to stimulate ‘impulse buys’, or similarly, campaigning that manipulates the weak-willed to support a campaign. Moreover, relating to the question of the target’s knowledge, it is worthwhile to consider the difference between direct appeals and broadcast appeals. Direct appeals involve interpersonal interaction where the agent witnesses the reaction of their target, while broadcast appeals do not. Although both advertising and campaigning use direct and broadcast methods, campaigning often makes more use of the first, and advertising more of the second. In interpersonal engagements, the persuader will notice many characteristics of the target. They can gauge the target’s apparent state of mind, and whether their engagement seems rational or emotional. On account of this knowledge, the persuader has heightened power to manipulate the target. However, the moral response is, rather than exploiting this power, creating the perfect balance between making a convincing case, and ensuring that their target is behaving responsibly. For broadcast methods, appeals to animal instinct must necessarily be more explicit, and practiced with caution appropriate to the situation. Evaluating the Kantian Account The Kantian treatment of this issue reveals some controversial issues with Kantian ethics in the way it avoids any consequentialist considerations. Such considerations involve weighing up the consequences of an action in analyzing its moral worth. One problem with the Kantian account lies in its lack of differentiation between different types of emotional responses. I would have liked this analysis to develop a duty against advertisements for beauty products that manipulate an irrational connection between image and self-worth. The appeal can still work even if the target knows that it is occurring, because the association gains strength from societal norms. Even with a pre-warning saying ‘this ad associates beauty with worthiness’ the advertisement will only remind the target of their experience of this association. In this way, it plays on emotions caused by social anxiety, and amplifies harmful norms in a way that appeals to hunger or empathy do not. Moreover, this appeal’s effectiveness does not depend on whether society actually values people according to aesthetics; it is about the rational, but potentially uninformed view of the target. Furthermore, the association between beauty and worthiness is not a lie, but an opinion, albeit a harmful one. There is some room to argue that such appeals normalize irrational associations, in effect decreasing the rational capacity of individuals over time. However, this relies on a subjective characterization of irrationality, verging on paternalism, and does not hold rational agents responsible for engaging with their own emotions. It would be more accurate to say that such appeals, although respecting rationality, have harmful consequences – a concept that Kantian philosophy does not incorporate. A full account of ethical appeals in advertising needs to rule out any appeals that lazily amplify existing but harmful social norms – but this consequentialist goal does not fit within Kantian ethics. In other areas, the Kantian approach rules out some appeals that a consequentialist might accept. Although this could be seen as an issue with the Kantian approach, it is also one of its strengths. Any Kantian would accept the argument that certain persuasive methods have no moral worth, no matter what their larger aim is. However, pluralist philosophies, in rejecting the primacy of rationality to place a substitutable value on the target’s autonomy, may find that the campaigner should be allowed more scope to manipulate their target emotionally. Given that their campaign has a sufficiently good end, and sufficiently high chances of success, and given that Kantian reasoning would be significantly less effective, a pluralist philosophy incorporating Kantian reasoning and and consequentialism would allow some manipulation in a campaigning context that would not be allowed in a purely selfish advertising context. The Kantian emphasis on universalization and non-interference is at odds with the goals of the campaigner, who is trying to right some wrong often caused by the immoral behavior of others. In fact, Sher’s discussion provides a framework in which the amount the product benefits the consumer may be a sufficient defense for using manipulative advertising.[20] A pluralistic view of morality would likely permit more manipulative appeals in advertising or campaigning, if the campaign or product were sufficiently good. Even accepting pluralism, the above account may not hold for campaigns, because appeals to animal instincts can have wider negative consequences. Firstly, the increased success, or likelihood of success, of the campaign may not be large enough to outweigh violation of people’s autonomy. Secondly, the recruitment of emotionally driven supporters could lead to a less principled campaign base, or a less enduring campaign. Making a moral decision incorporating such factors would require a thorough assessment of risk and benefit. The Kantian approach precludes these empirical considerations, in turn encouraging a slow, reliably moral approach to social change. This firm adherence to avoiding harm acts as a kind of safeguard to prevent blindly emotionally driven, badly considered campaigns, with supporters that are ultimately being exploited.[21] Even if my campaign is one that aims to protect others’ autonomy, for example, by freeing people from torture, my perfect Kantian duty is to not violate others’ autonomy, while the duty to protect rationality from others’ interference is an imperfect duty, and can only be achieved through moral means. Kantian ethics provides a clear account of our moral duties in the sphere of appeals to animal instincts. In some cases, where I have no reason to think that the target might engage rationally with emotional appeals, they are indefensible. In cases where the context allows for rational engagement, my duty is to consider the target as both responsible and manipulable, and genuinely consider whether I need to adapt my tactics to ensure their humanity is not violated. My intention should always be to strengthen the emotional argument, giving them ample opportunity to engage rationally with the appeal, rather than making emotions control my target. The Kantian account of duty is largely acceptable, but weakened by its failure to differentiate between benign and harmful animal instincts. Although the pluralist might find some issues with the Kantian account as it relates to campaigning, its clear conclusion provides us with a useful, albeit incomplete guide to social change without adverse consequences. Endnotes [1] Kant, Immanuel. (1997). Groundwork to the Metaphysics of Morals (GMM) In Gregor, Mary J. Practical Philosophy. Cambridge University Press. (4:421) [2] Phillips, Michael J. (1997) Ethics and Manipulation in Advertising: Answering a Flawed Indictment. Greenwood Publishing Group. [3] Herman, Barbara. (1997). ‘A Cosmopolitan Kingdom of Ends’. In Andrews Reath, Barbara Herman, Christine M. Korsgaard & John Rawls (eds.). Reclaiming the History of Ethics: Essays for John Rawls. Cambridge University Press. pp. 187-213 [4] Louden, Robert B. (2000). Kant's Impure Ethics: From Rational Beings to Human Beings. Oxford University Press. [5] Kant, Groundwork to the Metaphysics of Morals, (4:402) [6] Korsgaard, Christine M. (2004). ‘Fellow creatures: Kantian ethics and our duties to animals’. Tanner Lectures on Human Values 24: 77-110. [7] Wood, Allen W. (1998). Kant on Duties Regarding Nonrational Nature. Aristotelian Society Supplementary Volume 72 (1):189–210. [8] Wood, Kant on Duties Regarding Nonrational Nature, 189–210 [9] Phillips, (1997), Ethics and Manipulation in Advertising. [10] Rawls, John. (2000). ‘The Four-Step CI Procedure’ In Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy. Harvard University Press. p. 169. [11] Kant, Groundwork to the Metaphysics of Morals, (4:429) [12] Formosa, Paul. (2013). ‘Kant’s Conception of Personal Autonomy’. Journal of Social Philosophy 44, no. 3. pp. 193-212.p. 198. [13] Wood, (1998) ‘Kant on Duties Regarding Nonrational Nature’. [14] O'Neill, Onora. (1989) Constructions of Reason. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. p. 76. [15] Baron, Marcia. (2002). ‘Acting from Duty’ In Wood. Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals. Yale University Press. pp. 92-110 [16] Kant, Groundwork to the Metaphysics of Morals, (4:433) [17] Korsgaard, Christine M. (1992). ‘Creating the Kingdom of Ends: Reciprocity and Responsibility in Personal Relations’. Philosophical Perspectives, Vol. 6 Ethics. pp. 305-332 [18] Korsgaard, Creating the Kingdom of Ends: Reciprocity and Responsibility in Personal Relations, 324 [19] Herman, (1997) ‘A Cosmopolitan Kingdom of Ends’. [20] Sher, Shlomo. (2011). ‘A Framework for Assessing Immorally Manipulative Marketing Tactics’, Journal of Business Ethics 102, pp.97–118 [21] One contemporary example of such a campaign is the KONY 2012 movement, which initially avoided scrutiny by motivating people’s support by appealing to their emotions. References Baron, Marcia. (2002). ‘Acting from Duty’ In Wood. Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals. Yale University Press. pp. 92-110 Formosa, Paul. (2013). ‘Kant’s Conception of Personal Autonomy’. Journal of Social Philosophy 44, no. 3. pp. 193-212. Herman, Barbara. (1997). ‘A Cosmopolitan Kingdom of Ends’ In Andrews Reath, Barbara Herman, Christine M. Korsgaard & John Rawls (eds.), Reclaiming the History of Ethics: Essays for John Rawls. Cambridge University Press. pp. 187-213 Kant, Immanuel. (1997). Groundwork to the Metaphysics of Morals (GMM). In Gregor, Mary J., Practical Philosophy. Cambridge University Press. Korsgaard, Christine M. (1992). ‘Creating the Kingdom of Ends: Reciprocity and Responsibility in Personal Relations’. Philosophical Perspectives, Vol. 6 Ethics. pp. 305-332 Korsgaard, Christine M. (2004). ‘Fellow creatures: Kantian ethics and our duties to animals’. Tanner Lectures on Human Values 24: 77-110. Louden, Robert B. (2000). Kant's Impure Ethics: From Rational Beings to Human Beings. Oxford University Press. O'Neill, Onora. (1989). Constructions of Reason, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Phillips, Michael J. (1997) Ethics and Manipulation in Advertising: Answering a Flawed Indictment, Greenwood Publishing Group. Rawls, John. (2000). ‘The Four-Step CI Procedure’ In Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy. Harvard University Press. Sher, Shlomo. (2011). ‘A Framework for Assessing Immorally Manipulative Marketing Tactics’. Journal of Business Ethics 102. pp. 97–118 Wood, Allen W. (1998). Kant on Duties Regarding Nonrational Nature. Aristotelian Society Supplementary Volume, 72 (1):189–210.

Editorial board Foreword Volume II Issue I Introducing the third issue of JPPE In recent years, the world’s attention has increasingly turned to environmental issues. Once a subject that interested only a few committed activists and academics, climate change and other related issues have now gained the interest and concern of a large number of people all around the world. In recent years, we have witnessed the signing of a landmark protocol – the Paris Agreement – that seeks to tackle some of the causes of climate change. Moreover, world leaders of the caliber of Pope Francis, French President Emmanuel Macron and former US Vice President Al Gore have attempted to draw attention to the harm humans cause to the environment. Yet, concurrently we have seen the rise of those who deny the existence or minimize the importance of a concerning rise in world temperature, most notably President Donald Trump. Aside from the political debate on climate change, academics have started engaging with the issue more and more often. Universities all over the world now have departments that focus on environmental studies. Pioneering scholars like Wallace Broecker, Phil Jones, Michael Mann, Susan Solomon and Veerabhadran Ramanathan have devoted their entire career to the study of various aspects of this important issue. Notably, the work of Yale economist William Nordhaus was awarded the Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences in 2018 for “integrating climate change into long-run macroeconomic analysis.” This edition of the Brown Journal of Philosophy, Politics and Economics is, in part, devoted to climate change both as a political and academic issue. To explore this guiding theme, we feature a submission by United States Senator Sheldon Whitehouse, from Brown’s home state of Rhode Island, who has led the charge to raise awareness about climate change in the American political arena. In addition, one of our submissions examines and compares how the environment fits into the political imagination in Germany and the United States. It is our hope that these two pieces will help our readers better understand this crucial global issue. Yet, this edition of this Journal also features pieces on a number of other topics. Amongst others, our submissions explore subjects that range from realism in Chinese cinema to the value of shareholder activism, from gerrymandering in the United States to the ethics of using drones. Indeed, it is our sincere hope that by reading this semester’s edition our readers will be exposed to a number of distinct yet interrelated topics and that the value and insights of these papers will be enhanced when looking at them together rather than individually.

*Feature* JPPE INTERVIEW, WALTER SCHEIDEL: Coronavirus and Why Inequality is Only Ever Reduced by Disaster Walter Scheidel (pictured) is a historian at Stanford University as well as the author of eighteen books, including “The Great Leveler”, which presents a history of economic inequality from “the stone age to the twenty-first century”. In the book, which won a number of awards, Scheidel argues that inequality has historically only ever been reduced by “four horsemen”: plague, civil war, mass military mobilization, and government collapse. You can buy “The Great Leveler” here . May 2020 JPPE: The Great Leveler presents this very ambitious thesis that inequality only ever gets reduced by mass military mobilization, plague, civil war, or government collapse. Your previous work dealt with demography, political economy, ancient history, and the classics. Why was a book studying the history of inequality something that you wanted to work on? Scheidel : Well, I should say I’m not much of a classicist. I’ve always considered myself a historian, and even though I specialize in ancient and premodern history, I’ve always been interested in world history and comparative history, more generally. And I guess the short answer is that I wrote this book because nobody had ever tried to write it before, and it would not have been possible even ten or fifteen years earlier because there simply weren’t enough case studies of the pre-modern period to piece together a broad survey of the evolution of income and wealth inequality across hundreds and even thousands of years. And then my more immediate inspiration was Thomas Piketty’s book “Capital in the Twenty-First Century”. I had been familiar with his work already even before this book came out, and when the book actually did come out and was a huge success, I figured that if I didn't sit down now and write the book, then someone else is going to do it. And so, I got going, and I had the thesis already in the back of my mind—Piketty had the same thesis that I did but just for the twentieth century. And what I was trying to do was see if it applied to world history, more generally, and somewhat to my surprise, it turned out this was the case. And because I didn’t run into any obvious counterexamples, I was able to write up a whole book in the course of about two years. JPPE: Do you believe that high levels of inequality might be partially responsible for producing the shocks that ultimately reduce it? Scheidel : What I focused on was the impact of violent shocks on existing levels of inequality. And I think, in that respect, we are on pretty solid ground in that there are long term patterns regardless of what stage of development you are. Whether you are dealing with an agrarian society or an industrial society, the underlying principle and the underlying dynamics assert themselves again and again—it’s this idea that certain types of violent shocks would drive down inequality. Now, it is tempting to think that there could be some sort of homeostatic system where, if inequality goes up and exceeds a certain level, it triggers violent events that then reduce inequality. And then inequality rises again, and you have a never-ending series of cycles. That’s intellectually quite appealing. I don’t think that theory is fully borne out by the evidence that I have been able to put together. I think the evidence is much stronger in terms of a consistent effect of violent shocks on inequality, but not in quite the same way the other way around. JPPE: Are there certain instances in which inequality is responsible for causing the leveling force that ultimately brought it down? One example that seems to speak to this is the case of Germany prior to the Second World War. The high inequality that took place during that time and the decline in German purchasing power seems to have contributed to the socio-political conditions that would ultimately lead to the Second World War and the leveling that took place then. Scheidel : I’m not familiar with that particular case study. I think that it is perfectly plausible and possible to tease out this conclusion by statistical analysis. Yet, if you look at world history more generally, you become very wary of cherry-picking. It’s easy to identify individual cases where you can observe such a connection. There are very powerful counterexamples that should give us pause, however. So, for instance, if you just looked at France in the late eighteenth century, you could say, ‘of course the French Revolution was driven in part by extremely high levels of inequality’, and that makes perfect sense. Yet then you have to bear in mind that France was surrounded by other countries—Britain, the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Germany—that were just as unequal as France and had no revolutions. You also have to bear in mind that the revolution in Russia occurred in a country that was not only not very industrialized, contrary to what Marx expected; it was also not very unequal by the standards of the time. The most unequal countries were the only industrialized ones—Britain, for example. The same is true of China when Mao took over. So, once you put all of these individual cases in context, it’s very difficult to say that a particular level of inequality triggers some kind of societal breakdown, ferments revolution, or leads to other kinds of leveling. JPPE: In your book, you argued that leveling would not have happened without the presence of a violent shock. You conclude, however, by discussing the possibility that we have moved to a point in history where the “four horsemen” are no longer necessary to reduce inequality. What do you think now? Scheidel : I think the evidence supports the belief that violent shocks are necessary to bring about leveling. They may not be sufficient, and they also act as catalysts. So, if you go back a hundred years or over one hundred years, there were already trends on the way in favor of increasing education, unionization of the workforce, the spread of democracy, and certain kinds of progressive taxation. All these things already existed but they got an enormous boost by World War One, the Great Depression, the New Deal, and World War Two. And the counterfactual is to think about if they would have gotten an equally big boost had these shocks not occurred, and I’m very pessimistic about that. It’s not a black and white picture; it’s not to say nothing ever changes in the absence of such shocks. It’s just to say the changes would be far less dramatic, and I think that this is quite easy to substantiate empirically. Now, as for your other question, when I concluded the book, I had to look forward to the future and I came to the conclusion that the traditional four horsemen were dormant right now. We no longer fight mass military mobilization wars; there are no credible revolutionary movements (at least in high-income countries); states are much more stable in most of the world than they used to be; and pandemics, such as the one that we are encountering right now, are nothing like the pandemics of the past that leveled by reducing the workforce and driving up wages. We’ll see the exact opposite in this case with respect to wages. What I neglected to include is that climate change might become a fifth leveling force. I’m sympathetic to that view. It needn’t be a fifth leveling force, but it could revive some of the others. It could lead to conflict, to state breakdown, to more pandemics, and to all kinds of things along those lines. So that’s something I should have perhaps considered more systematically. Otherwise I never really said that you can’t do anything at all in the absence of such violent shocks. I just wanted to remind people how difficult it is, and I think that’s important to bear in mind when we develop policy programs. We can’t just say ‘let’s go back to the way things were in the fifties’, for a number of reasons. We have to be aware when we develop policy initiatives what the structural impediments are and what very special conditions had to be in place in the past to bring about significant leveling. That’s not a call to defeatism. But I think it’s the historian’s job to put those things in perspective, and in this case, I think our job is to remind people over and over again that it’s really hard work to reduce inequality. JPPE: Are there instances of policy successfully reducing inequality that we can try and mimic in the future? Scheidel : That’s a very good question. I think there are two cases to consider. One is historically Scandinavian countries—not just Denmark, but also Sweden and Norway—, which used to be highly unequal two hundred years ago with extreme inequality in land ownership and so on. And that already started to get a little better in the course of the nineteenth century and early twentieth century. Those countries were not very heavily touched by the world wars. They were in some sense, however, and we see major contractions of inequality during those periods, but that’s clearly only part of the story. So, there is something going on in those countries, in particular, that put them on a trajectory towards lower inequality, and that was amplified and accelerated by the shocks in the first half of the twentieth century. Now, to what extent you can extrapolate from this is a very difficult question because those countries were—especially then— relatively small, not very populous, and they were extremely homogenous in a great many ways—linguistically, ethnically, socially, culturally, and so on. They were the exact opposite in many ways from the United States, which has historically always been very diverse, and there are studies that show that high levels of diversity can obstruct ambitious redistributive programs because there is simply less widespread popular support for those kinds of policies. So, we are talking about apples and oranges. It’s not quite clear to what extent you can transfer some examples and apply them to different kinds of societies. And I think this is where the case of Latin America comes in. Latin America is very interesting. It’s a major outlier because it never experienced a major reduction in inequality; inequality has always been very high because of its colonial past—slavery, plantation economies, for example. It also never experienced any major leveling shocks. It wasn’t really touched by the World Wars. There were hardly any revolutions outside of Cuba. And so, you had status quo for a really long time and not very many changes. And in terms of diversity, some of those societies are more similar to the United States. What you saw there in the first decade of this century was a quite significant trend towards lower inequality in most Latin American countries—such as Brazil—by peaceful means, and that’s very encouraging. It really depended on the concatenation of circumstances that may be hard to replicate—gains from increased investment in education, political changes, a commodities boom in China that shored up certain sectors of the economy. All kinds of things were coming together in just the right way to reduce historically high levels of inequality. As I was writing this book, I was wondering whether this peaceful trend might be sustainable, and there were already clouds on the horizon. There was a major economic downturn a number of years ago. And the trends seemed to have stopped in many countries. With what’s happening right now and will be happening as a result of the current pandemic, we can be pretty sure that this trend is not going to continue or be sustainable in the long term. We will have to wait for a revival of this trend. JPPE: It strikes me that when you ask scholars what the causes of inequality have been, people who study finance will blame financialization or the democratization of credit. Others will blame trade or technology. And others will blame policy. What do you believe the causes of inequality have been? Scheidel: It’s really like the story of the elephant and the blindfolded men who touch different parts of the elephant, and they try to describe the animal and come up with very different descriptions. In the existing scholarship on the reasons for the increase in inequality from the 1980s onwards, different studies identify different components— as you say, automation, globalization, deregulation, financialization, all kinds of “ations”, the weakening of unions, and the fact that enormous numbers of workers came online with the opening up of China. All of these effects really refashioned the post-war order in ways that revived economic growth, which had been flagging in the 70s, but also led to a higher concentration of income and wealth. And all these many factors have been interacting ever since, and this makes it so much more difficult to address the problem because there are so many different factors that are operational and active now and have been for a generation. So, if you just address globalization, or robots, or tax reform, you would only really touch one part of the elephant, so to speak. And it would be very difficult to implement comprehensive reforms without at the same time transforming the entire economic system that we live in and depend on. It may be possible in theory, but it doesn’t strike me as a very plausible policy goal in the short run. JPPE: You also argue that major economic transitions (e.g. the Industrial Revolution), often increase in inequality in the “short-run”. Do you think that we’re in the middle of something like this as we embrace digital technology? Scheidel: Yes, I’ve seen this argument a number of times and it makes perfect sense to me. I mean, at the beginning of agriculture, if you have a plow and someone else doesn’t have a plow, then you are better off than the other person. Now if you work in Silicon Valley, then you are well off, and if you don’t, then you are in trouble. So, these transitions—regardless of what they were like and what the specifics were like— certainly have disequalizing potential in the sense that they might make society overall richer, but they reward certain groups disproportionately. And frankly, the current pandemic is an excellent example. There are people who can work from home; their jobs are more secure; they have higher incomes on average. And there are people who do more traditional kinds of work, for lack of a better word, and they are much more heavily exposed to the economic downturn. You have students who can participate in online instruction because they have broadband access and laptops and those who can’t. All these inequalities already existed, but they are now actually amplified and made more painful by the existing crisis. And I think ultimately this is a symptom of the effects of a broader transition towards a more digital economy. JPPE: When we consider past plagues, do you think that there is anything fundamentally different about the Coronavirus Pandemic? Scheidel: Well, the most obvious difference is that even in a worst-case scenario, the coronavirus is going to kill a far smaller share of the population than pandemics of the past and even than the Spanish Flu did a hundred years ago. And mortality is, of course, concentrated among people in advanced ages and spares most of the active workforce and people who are about to enter the workforce. So, there won’t be any kind of demographic shock or Malthusian reset. Real wages are not going to go up because there won’t be a shortage of wages. In fact, mass unemployment is going to depress wages, if anything. So, we can mercifully forget about this. Nobody wants that kind of pandemic to ever happen again. And frankly, even if it did happen again in some future year, AI and automation would actually absorb some of those effects. We wouldn’t necessarily have to pay people more; we might just automate more, which aging societies are already doing if you look at Japan. So that’s a fundamental difference. In the short run, I think this pandemic is going to increase inequality for all the reasons we touched on and because unemployment is unevenly distributed. This is maybe not that different from earlier pandemics because, in the immediate aftermath of a pandemic, things tend to be quite chaotic. So, the real question is if the current pandemic has the potential to lead to some kind of equalizing change down the line—not tomorrow, but maybe a couple of years from now. That’s a very good question, and I think it depends ultimately on how severe this crisis is going to be because historically, the worse the crisis was, the harder the shocks and the greater the potential for equalizing change was. So if quantitative easing works and scientists come up with a decent vaccine within a year or so, there is a pretty good chance we will return to some modified version of the status quo, at least with the respect to inequality—i.e. that the existing inequalities will survive and maybe even be reinforced, which is what happened in 2008 after the Great Recession. The alternative is that things really get out of control, that creating new money turns out to be insufficient, that there will be a global depression that lasts for a long time, and that the virus turns out to be intractable—it mutates, and all kinds of horrible things happen. And, as a result of this, we may end up with levels of dislocation, misery, and despair that would drive our policymaking in a certain direction, which would be more like what we had in the 1930s, when conditions were so terrible and the social safety net so rudimentary or nonexistent that all kinds of measures had to be taken that would have been considered too radical just a few years before. So, it is quite possible that we find ourselves on the cusp of this sort of change. The ideas are already out there. There was no Bernie Sanders twenty years ago, and much of this will depend on how this is actually going to play out—just how big and disruptive this shock is going to be. JPPE: Are there specific policies you would like to see implemented? In your NYT op-ed, you called for a new era of progressive policy. Very practically, what are some of your positions? Scheidel : Well, I think outcomes are going to vary quite a lot by country. In the US, we live in a kind of low hanging fruit society, in the sense that inequality is higher than it needs to be and is higher than in other western capitalist countries for a number of reasons specific to the US—the political system, the fiscal structure, the weakness of unions, and so on. So, there are certain things the US could do that would have an effect longer-term on inequality. This includes campaign finance reform; there’s a clear connection between plutocratic influence and certain inequality outcomes. This includes providing better access to health care, improving access to education, protecting and reenabling collective bargaining and unionization. Whether it is tweaking the tax code to make it a bit more progressive and a bit more like what we see in Western Europe. None of these approaches would be radical. It’s not a new deal kind of scenario. It’s not a Green New Deal kind of scenario but it would certainly contribute to a reduction in inequality. It wouldn’t take us back to where we were after World War II, but that’s not to be expected anyways. It would certainly improve the situation. JPPE: Are there areas of the study of inequality that you believe are under covered by researchers and that you would like to see people work on? Scheidel: Well, that’s actually a very good question. Going back to what we talked about initially, it is still an open question to whether inequality can destabilize society in a systematic way. There have been studies on developing countries (low-income countries)—especially in post-colonial settings in Africa, Asia, and Latin America—that show high levels of inequality are associated with an increased risk of civil war, for instance, or some kind of societal breakdown. It seems that crossing a certain GDP threshold protects more affluent societies from these kinds of dislocations, but that doesn’t mean that inequality can’t lead to less extreme forms of social unrest and problems. And that’s something that has not been as well researched as maybe it should be. And if it could be shown that there is such an effect, that should galvanize policymakers and make them think twice about propping up the existing structures that enable the very high degree of inequality that we see right now.

Georgian-South Ossetian Conflict Is secession a viable solution? Tathyana Mello Amaral Brown University Author Miles Campbell Ryan Saadeh Ethan Shire Editors Fall 2018 This paper assesses the viability of secession as a possible solution for the Georgian-South Ossetian conflict. The fall of the Soviet Union in 1991 resulted in the creation of weak and unstable states that sought to establish their identity and place in the world. It triggered a wave of pervasive ethno-nationalism in Eastern Europe, led to a number of lasting military conflicts, and brought about the question of self-determination of minor ethnic groups like the Armenians, Chechens, and Kosovians. The Yugoslav Wars marked an important turning point in the history of the post-Soviet region because it resulted in the secession of Kosovo from Serbia in 2008 and created legal precedent for separatist groups. While the right to secede offers an answer to the resolution of ethnic conflicts, some scholars and theorists find it troubling. [1] The dispute between Georgia and ethnic Ossetians of the Transcaucasian region, now known as South Ossetia, highlights how the right to secede is still a point of controversy in international law. Historical Background: Nature of the Conflict Though the enmity between ethnic Georgians and ethnic Ossetians dates back to the 13th century when Ossetians were driven South from the Northern Caucasus Mountains to Georgian territory, it greatly intensified during the Soviet period.[2] During this period, South Ossetia was an autonomous administrative unit within the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic (SSR). As historian George B. Hewitt discusses, language policy was an important point of contention between the ethnic groups since Georgia pursued discriminatory policies against its ethnic minorities.[3] The Soviet Union’s early language policy granted a lot of freedom to ethnic groups as part of a “nativization” effort that sought to liberate and win over oppressed peoples. By the late 1930s, however, fears of emerging nationalism within the federation led to a change in policy to one of “Russification”. Georgia, however, was exempted from such policies until 1953 since its leader Joseph Stalin was a Georgian native. In 1936 Georgian was declared a state language and Georgianization became the policy of the day. In 1938 the state imposed the Georgian alphabet on the Ossetian language and prohibited minority language schooling, causing great tensions between the government and the ethnic minorities.[4] When the Russification policies reached the Georgian SSR, the Georgian Nationalist Movement proposed the 1988 Draft Language Law which aimed to oblige ethnic minorities to master the Georgian language.[5] These Georgian language policies, along with other discriminatory practices, thus created deep resentment among South Ossetians towards Georgians. It is important to note that the small state of Georgia is home to other separatist ethnic minorities, including Abkhazians in the West and Adjarians in the South. Although the Abkhazian-Georgian conflict has paralleled the Georgian-South Ossetian conflict since 1991 when violent conflict first erupted during the Georgian independence movement, this paper will exclusively focus on the South Ossetian conflict. The violent experience of the 1990s was a culmination of hundreds of years of conflict. Political scientist Stefan Wolff writes that “South Ossetians wanted to preserve and remain within the Soviet Union. The Ossetians believed that their survival as ethno-cultural communities distinct from the Georgian majority would be in acute danger in an independent Georgian state.”[6] The relationship between Russia and South Ossetia was reinforced by the fact that ethnic Ossetians had their own autonomous republic within Russia, namely North Ossetia-Alana. With the support of Russia, the South Ossetian separatists managed to put up a strong resistance against the Georgians.[7] In June 1992, shortly after the election of former Soviet Foreign Minister Edvard Shevardnadze as Georgian president, a ceasefire was signed in Sochi under Russian supervision.[8] The Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) sent a mission composed of troops from Georgia, Russia, South Ossetia, and North Ossetia to facilitate negotiations toward a political agreement.[9] The OSCE mission successfully maintained peace until 2003 when President Mikhail Saakashvili rose to power through the popular Rose Revolution, and made the restoration of Georgian territorial integrity a major goal of the new government.[10] The administration’s policy led to a violent flare up in 2004 when the government cracked down on a symbol of interethnic cooperation: the Ergneti Market.[11] Though the black market was a major point of contraband trade, the introduction of a harsh taxation system in the market, as a part of Saakashvili’s anti-contraband operation, significantly harmed Georgian relations with Ossetians. The market was one of the only sites of direct interaction between the two ethnic groups. Relations were made even worse by the fact that one of the targeted groups in this operation was comprised of local officials and businessmen who profited from Russian and Ossetian trade connections.[12] Violence erupted during and after the shutting down of the market. Even more detrimental to interethnic relations, in 2006 it became public that the smuggling operation still existed, but that it was now run but the ruling Georgian elite.[13] The closing of the Ergneti Market was labeled a “missed window of opportunity” for conflict resolution by academic Doris Vogl. She argued that “during the rigorously implemented state-building process of the early Saakashvili government, the informal Georgian-Ossetian relations immediately lost momentum.”[14] The events of 2004 polarized and radicalized both Georgians and Ossetians and intensified the clashes between the ethnic groups in the prelude of the war of 2008. Though Georgia offered South Ossetia federal status in 2004, the leadership rejected this possible resolution.[15] Georgian policies in the early 2000s allowed Russia to offer more substantial and public support to the separatist Ossetians. Russia distributed passports to ethnic Ossetians and intensified political, economic and military ties with the separatist region. Arguably even more important, Russia observed growing relations between Georgia and Western powers like the United States. Georgia received 1.3 billion dollars of American financial aid and oversaw the construction of BP operated Baku–Supsa oil pipeline which runs through Azerbaijan and Georgia.[16] As Georgia began to pursue NATO membership, Russia was threatened by the possibility of having the Western coalition present in its own backyard. Svante E. Cornell and S. Frederick Starr comment that before the 2008 war, “Georgia was moving rapidly toward Euro-Atlantic integration, and was doing so at a time when an increasingly assertive Russian foreign policy was being shaped by sphere of influence-thinking.”[17] With fears of further NATO expansion and growing US presence in the Caucasus, Russian policy was driven by global security concerns, dynamics of European and global geopolitical power. Also significant is the fact that dominant Western powers such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and France supported and legitimized the secession of Kosovo from Serbia in February 2008. This allowed President Putin to cite the “Kosovo precedent” when signing a presidential decree on April 16th that established political, economic and social relations with both South Ossetia and Abkhazia.[18] Rising tensions between the two sovereign nations resulted in a five day war in 2008. Controversy surrounds who actually initiated the war on August 7th 2008,[19] as reports by the European Union and the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute & Silk Road Studies Program Joint Center agree that while Georgia made the first move, Russia significantly increased the number of troops and armaments in Abkhazia, and later in South Ossetia in the prelude to the war.[20] After five days of violent conflict, Georgia and Russia agreed to sign an armistice and engaged in peace talks sponsored by the European Union, the United Nations and OSCE. Russian military troops remained in South Ossetia in order to prevent Georgia from recovering the territory.[21] On August 25th, Russia recognized the sovereignty of South Ossetia and Abkhazia. Western powers and institutions such as NATO, the European Union, and the United Nations strongly condemned this move as they believed it undermined the sovereignty of the Georgian state. In response, Georgia ceased all diplomatic relations with Russia. This made the peace process slow and ineffective as the co-sponsored EU-UN-OSCE talks in Geneva were the only mechanism for multilateral talks.[22] Since 2008, Russia has increased governmental, economic and social ties with the secessionist regions. The administrative border between South Ossetia and Georgia has also been pushed southwards and since the summer of 2015, South Ossetian-held territory includes a section of the Baku-Supsa pipeline. As Andrews Higgins puts it, the secessionist region is part of Russia’s “Frozen Zone”, which includes areas under Russian control that officially belong to neighboring states, such as Georgia’s Abkhazia, Moldova’s Transnistria, and Ukraine’s Crimea. Higgins also adds that these regions are “useful for things like preventing a NATO foothold or destabilizing the host country at opportune moments.”[23] Issues with the Secession of South Ossetia In his essay “The Cracked Foundations of the Right to Secede”, law professor and political scientist Donald Horowitz outlines a set of assumptions that are made about secessionist states which justify the right to secede. This right assumes that secession will produce a “homogenous successor” that will “respect minority rights,” and where “republican democracy is viable.”[24] It also assumes that secession will “result in a diminution of conflict.”[25] The case of South Ossetia can be analyzed as a natural secessionist experiment of history because the region has been a de-facto independent state for many years. The question then arises: have these assumptions materialized in the case of South Ossetia? In short, they have not. As Horowitz points out, secession “merely proliferates the arenas in which the problem of intergroup political accommodation must be faced.”[26] In the case of Georgia, ample evidence shows that ethnic conflict continues to haunt both Georgia and the de-facto independent state of South Ossetia. There were many reports concerning violations of human rights from both sides during the 2008 war. For example, a Human Rights Watch report showed that there was intentional destruction of Georgian villages by Russian-South Ossetian troops.[27] The majority of ethnic Georgians who resided in South Ossetia fled during the August 2008 conflict, but an estimated 20,000 still live in the disputed territory.[28] The Ministry for Internally Displaced Persons from the Occupied Territories, Accommodation and Refugees of Georgia reported that there were 34,274 internally displaced persons (IDPs) from South Ossetia as of October 2014.[29] A UN survey shows that 56.9% of IDPs from South Ossetia are unable, but would like to return to their place of origin in cities like Tskhinvali, Znauri, Java, and Shida Kartli. This demonstrates how interethnic accommodations have failed to unfold with the creation of a separate state. Additionally, with no access to the territory except in preparations for the Geneva Discussions, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees and Georgian authorities have been unable to implement conventions regarding rights of refugees, stateless persons, and IDPs.[30] Russian troops regularly detain Georgian civilians for illegal crossings of the “administrative boundary line” (around 320 villagers were detained in 2015 alone).[31] In fact, the Freedom House Organization states that ethnic Georgians are barred from returning to the region unless they “renounce their Georgian citizenship and accept Russian passports.”[32] Therefore, the freedom of movement of Georgian citizens is constantly threatened in South Ossetia. In July 2017, the South Ossetian authorities also shared plans “to abolish the Georgian language schooling in the region’s ethnic Georgian populated areas beginning from the 2017/2018 academic year.”[33] The language policy proposed by the South Ossetian government recalls the discriminatory policies Ossetians were subjected to at the hand of Georgians during the Soviet period. Regarding the meaningful political participation of ethnic minorities, the Freedom House states that ethnic Georgians have refused or been barred from participating in the electoral process.[34] Freedoms of expression and of organization are also threatened.[35] As Horowitz argues, the treatment of this new ethnic minority is highly discriminatory. Therefore, in the case of South Ossetia, secession does not create a homogenous successor nor does it guarantee the respect of minority rights. In the case of South Ossetia, secession does not seem feasible unless the authorities make a commitment to guarantee the rights of its ethnic minorities. But, as Horowitz warns, “guarantees of minority protection in secessionist regions are likely to be illusory.”[36] While South Ossetia is considered a de-facto independent state, the viability of an independent republican democracy in South Ossetia is questionable when considering its high dependence on Russia. Historians Andreas Gerrits and Max Bader argue that “the economic and intergovernmental linkages with Russia … directly undermine the autonomy of the region.”[37] With a dual executive system, South Ossetia maintains political institutions based on those of Russia. The 2011 presidential election demonstrates the grip of Russia on the region’s politics and shows how the South Ossetian political process is highly susceptible to Russian influence. When a candidate who criticized strong ties with Russia won the popular vote, the Supreme Court annulled the results. Elections were repeated in 2012 with four new candidates, all pro-Russia.[38] As a result of the bilateral agreements signed in 2009, 2010, and 2015 that established economic, governmental and military links between Russia and South Ossetia, South Ossetia developed a high level of dependence on Russia.[39] Russia is South Ossetia’s only relevant trade partner, the ruble is the official currency, and South Ossetia’s imports and investments are exclusively from Russia.[40] More significantly, 91% of South Ossetia’s government budget is made up from Russian financial aid.[41] These limitations arguably derive from a lack of international recognition and from the consequences of the 2008 war. However, as Russian economist Mikhail Delyagin states, “South Ossetia does not exist as an independent economic entity due to its small size and extremely low-level management,” as well as due to its reliance on Russia’s long-term military presence to protect its territory.[42] As a result of this significant dependence on Russian aid, South Ossetia does not have a sustainable future as an independent nation. Another assumption that can be contested is that secession will lead to a diminution of violent conflict. This inevitable reality is highly flawed because devolution merely turns domestic conflicts into international ones. While a political divorce has not officially occurred, South Ossetia has been de-facto independent for at least 10 years. Though ethnic enmities linger, the recent history of the conflict shows how ethnic conflicts can mutate into primarily geopolitical ones when separatist movements thrive. University of Edinburgh Professor Emeritus John Erickson writes that the implications of Georgia’s Western push “are consequently dire for those [including high level Russian officials] who insist doggedly that the post-Soviet ‘space’ in its entirety, encompassing the former states of the Soviet Union, is and must remain a closed Russian geopolitical preserve.”[43] For Russia, the possibility of NATO encroachment on the South Caucasus precludes any significant decision concerning the separatist regions. As historian David J. Smith argues, German Chancellor Angela Merkle sealed the region’s fate when she said that the resolution of internal conflict was a prerequisite for NATO membership.[44] From that moment onwards, South Ossetia became a pawn in Moscow’s foreign policy strategy, described by Svante Cornell as a “revival of a classically modern, Realpolitik culture of security.”[45] The South Ossetian “secessionist” experience, along with that of other separatist states in Eastern Europe, illustrates how ethnic conflicts can be used to further geopolitical interests of powers like the Russian Federation in the post-Soviet space. The internationalization of the Georgian-South Ossetian conflict shows how secession does not necessarily lead to a diminution of violence. Therefore, the failure of South Ossetia to protect the minority rights of ethnic Georgians, its continued dependence on Russia, and likely mutation of ethnic conflicts into geopolitical ones suggests that secession is not a viable solution for this conflict. Implications There are no clear answers to Georgian-South Ossetian conflict. Though the director of the Institute for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies Cory Welt argues that “the reintegration of South Ossetia…poses no challenges to conventional understandings of democracy and human rights,” as time passes, the collective consciousness of both South Ossetians and Georgians acquires increasingly negative perceptions of the opposing ethnic group, making future interethnic cooperation difficult to achieve.[46] Additionally, the social linkage between South Ossetia and Russia continues to grow through the Russian domination of the media, the use of Russian as the lingua franca, and the promotion of educational exchange programs.[47] A symbolic link also comes from the large Ossetian diaspora in North Ossetia, an autonomous region within Russia. Thus, South Ossetia’s reintegration into Georgia becomes more unlikely by the day. With most citizens having dual citizenship to South Ossetia and Russia, further integration of South Ossetia into Russia can be anticipated. While Russia has not stated that it will pursue the annexation of the territory, its aggressive support of South Ossetia has managed to destabilize the region, prevent Georgia from joining Western organizations such as NATO. Moreover, through its involvement in Georgia, Russia has reasserted its influence in the Caucasus region. If secession occurred and South Ossetia was recognized as independent state by the international community, Russia would be encouraged to engage in even more aggressive foreign policy in the post-Soviet sphere of influence, possibly resulting in a domino effect of secessionist movements and a higher occurrence of violent conflicts. Georgia is a multiethnic country with two separatist movements (the experience of Abkhazia is very similar to that of South Ossetia), so the secession of one region would likely lead to that of the other. The disputed territories make up about one quarter of the Georgian territory, which means secession would severely destabilize the already weak country. The fear of a domino effect, not only in Georgia, but in other disputed territories that are currently under Russian control (i.e.: Crimea and Donbass, Ukraine; Transnitria, Moldova), is already a reality shaping international geopolitics. If the right to secede is accepted in relation to the South Ossetian dispute, the legal precedent set by Kosovo’s independence will be reaffirmed. With Russia’s “Frozen Zone” in mind, the emergence and legitimization of separatist movements of small and unsustainable regions can lead to the expansion of Russian sphere of influence in the post-Soviet territory and the further polarization of the present international political dynamics. Conclusion Peace talks and conflict resolution efforts have proven ineffective for almost 25 years, since both sides are committed to achieving predetermined preferential outcomes.[48] Both sides have been haunted by the impatience of political leaders such as President Saakashvili and by a lack of trust from both sides due to the lack of interethnic communication. But, most of all, the sides have been haunted by a pro-separatist Russian mediator. Cory Welt writes that Russia’s “function as a ‘hegemonic balancer’ interposed between conflicting parties resulted in the establishment of a level playing field for negotiations, allowing Abkhazia and South Ossetia to consider themselves equals to Georgia, not subordinates.”[49] While Georgia attempted to reach an acceptable political solution, the support from a major power endowed separatist group with a decisive sense of confidence and security that hindered the resolution of the conflict. Meanwhile, Western states and institutions failed to devise a coherent response to Russian policies that threaten stability and Europe’s own interests in the region. The de-facto independence of South Ossetia encountered a continued threat to rights of ethnic minorities, a strong dependence on Russia, and the quick escalation of violence in 2008 due to the internationalization of the conflict. The region’s experience thus supports the argument that secession is not a viable solution for ethnic conflict in the Caucasus. Endnotes [1] Donald L. Horowitz, “The Cracked Foundations of the Right to Secede,” Journal of Democracy, 11. [2] George Hewitt, Discordant Neighbours: A Reassessment of the Georgian-Abkhazian and Georgian-South Ossetian Conflicts, (Leiden: 2003), 22 -23. [3] Hewitt, 41. [4] Sonya Kleshik, "I Am My Language: Language Policy and Attitudes Toward Language in Georgia" (Master's thesis, Central European University, 2010), 11 - 12 [5] Hewitt, 57 – 58. [6] Stefan Wolff, "Georgia: Abkhazia and South Ossetia," Encyclopedia Princetoniensis. [7] Ibid. [8] Ibid. [9] Marietta Konig, "The Georgian-South Ossetian Conflict ," OSCE Yearbook 2004 (Hamburg: 2004), 242. [10] Ibid, 238. [11] Doris Vogl, "Missed Windows of Opportunity in the Georgian-South Ossetian Conflict – The Political Agenda of the Post-Revolutionary Saakashvili Government (2004-2006)," Failed Prevention: The Case of Georgia (Vienna: 2010), 68 – 71. [12] Vogl, 70. [13] Ibid. [14] Ibid, 72. [15] Wolff. [16] Cory Welt, “Balancing the Balancer: Russia, the U.S., and Conflict Resolution in Georgia,” Global Dialogue 7, no. 3-4 (Summer/Autumn 2005), 24. [17] Svante E. Cornell and S. Frederick Starr, eds., The Guns of August 2008: Russia's War in Georgia (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2015), 4. [18] Ibid, 7 – 8. [19] "The Blame Game," The Economist, October 03, 2009. [20] Ibid; Cornell, Popjanevski and Nilsson, “Russia’s War in Georgia”, 23 – 24. [21] Luke Hardinng and Jenny Percival, “Russian troops to stay in Abkhazia and South Ossetia,” The Guardian, September 09 2008. [22] Wolff, "Georgia”. [23] Andrew Higgins, “In Russia’s ‘Frozen Zone,’ a Creeping Border With Georgia,” The New York Times, October 23 2016. [24] Horowitz, “Cracked Foundations,” 8. [25] Ibid. [26] Ibid, 9. [27] Up In Flames: Humanitarian Law Violations and Civilian Victims in the Conflict over South Ossetia (New York: Human Rights Watch, 2009). [28] "World Directory of Minorities and Indigenous Peoples: Ossetians," Minority Rights Group International. [29] UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Intentions Survey On Durable Solutions: Voices Of Internally Displaced Persons In Georgia, June 2015. [30] UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Submission by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees For the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights' Compilation Report Universal Periodic Review: Georgia, January 2015. [31] Vicenews, The Russians Are Coming: Georgia’s Creeping Occupation, VICE News, November 04, 2015, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv00Weif0Sw . [32] “Freedom In The World: South Ossetia," Freedom House, 2016. [33] Georgian Schools to be Abolished in S. Ossetia," Civil.Ge, July 28, 2017. [34] “Freedom In The World: South Ossetia”. [35] Ibid. [36] Horowitz, 6. [37] Andre W. M. Gerrits and Max Bader, "Russian Patronage Over Abkhazia and South Ossetia: Implications for Conflict Resolution," East European Politics 32, no. 3 (July 19, 2016). [38] “Freedom In The World: South Ossetia”. [39] Gerrits and Bader, “Russian Patronage”. [40] Ibid. [41] Paul Rimple, “Economics Not Impacting Russian Support for Georgian Separatists,” Eurasianet.org, February 13, 2015. [42] Mikhail Delyagin, "A Testing Ground for Modernization and a Showcase of Success," Russia in Global Affairs, March 8, 2008. [43] John Erickson, “Russia Will not be Trifled With: Geopolitical Facts and Fantasies,” in Geopolitics: Geography and Strategy, ed. Colin S. Gray and Geoffrey Sloan (London: Frank Cass Publishers, 1999), p. 260. [44] David J. Smith, "The Saakashvili Administration’s Reaction to Russian Policies Before the 2008 War," in The Guns of August 2008: Russia's War in Georgia (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2015), 126. [45] Cornell and Starr, The Guns of August 2008, 196. [46] Cory Welt, “Balancing the Balancer: Russia, the U.S., and Conflict Resolution in Georgia,” Global Dialogue 7, no. 3-4 (2005), 12. [47] Gerrits and Bader, “Russian Patronage”. [48] Oksana Antonenko, "Failures of the Conflict Transformation and Root Causes of the August War," Failed Prevention: The Case of Georgia (Vienna: National Defence Academy and Bureau for Security Policy at the Austrian Ministry of Defence, 2010), 83. [49] Welt, “Balancing the Balancer,” 2. References Antonenko, Oksana. "Failures of the Conflict Transformation and Root Causes of the August War." In Failed Prevention: The Case of Georgia, 79-93. Vienna: National Defense Academy and Bureau for Security Policy at the Austrian Ministry of Defense, 2010. "The Blame Game." The Economist. October 03, 2009. http://www.economist.com/node/14560958 . Cornell, Svante E., and S. Frederick Starr, eds. The Guns of August 2008: Russia's War in Georgia. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2015. Cornell, Svante E., Johanna Popjanevski, and Niklas Nilsson. Russia’s War in Georgia: Causes and Implications for Georgia and the World. Singapore: Central Asia-Caucasus Institute & Silk Road Studies Program, August 2008. Delyagin, Mikhail. "A Testing Ground for Modernization and a Showcase of Success." Russia in Global Affairs. March 8, 2008. Accessed August 19, 2017. http://eng.globalaffairs.ru/number/n_12538. Erickson, John. “Russia Will not be Trifled With: Geopolitical Facts and Fantasies.” Geopolitics: Geography and Strategy. Colin S. Gray and Geoffrey Sloan ed. (London: Frank Cass Publishers, 1999). "Freedom In The World: South Ossetia." Freedom House. 2016. https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/2015/south-ossetia. "Georgian Schools to be Abolished in S. Ossetia." Civil.Ge. July 28, 2017. http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=30309. Gerrits, Andre W. M. , and Max Bader. "Russian Patronage Over Abkhazia and South Ossetia: Implications for Conflict Resolution." East European Politics 32, no. 3 (July 19, 2016): 297-313. Goble, Paul A. "Russian 'Passportization'." The New York Times. September 09, 2008. Accessed August 17, 2017. https://topics.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/09/09/russian-passportization/?_r=0. Hardinng, Luke and Jenny Percival. “Russian troops to stay in Abkhazia and South Ossetia.” The Guardian. September 09 2008. Hewitt, George. Discordant Neighbours: A Reassessment of the Georgian-Abkhazian and Georgian-South Ossetian Conflicts. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Higgins, Andrew. “In Russia’s ‘Frozen Zone,’ a Creeping Border With Georgia.” The New York Times. October 23 2016. Jentzsch, Greg. "What are the main causes of conflict in South Ossetia and how can they best be addressed to promote lasting peace." The BSIS Journal of International Studies (2009). Kleshik, Sonya . "I Am My Language: Language Policy and Attitudes Toward Language in Georgia." Master's thesis, Central European University, 2010. Konig, Marietta . "The Georgian-South Ossetian Conflict ." OSCE Yearbook 2004 (Hamburg: 2004). Rimple, Paul. “Economics Not Impacting Russian Support for Georgian Separatists.” Eurasianet.org. February 13, 2015. UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Intentions Survey On Durable Solutions: Voices Of Internally Displaced Persons In Georgia. June 2015. http://www.refworld.org/docid/55e575924.html UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Submission by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees For the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights' Compilation Report Universal Periodic Review: Georgia. January 2015. Up In Flames: Humanitarian Law Violations and Civilian Victims in the Conflict over South Ossetia. New York: Human Rights Watch, 2009. Vicenews. The Russians Are Coming: Georgia’s Creeping Occupation. VICE News. November 04, 2015. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv00Weif0Sw. Vogl, Doris. "Missed Windows of Opportunity in the Georgian-South Ossetian Conflict – The Political Agenda of the Post-Revolutionary Saakashvili Government (2004-2006) ." In Failed Prevention: The Case of Georgia, 59 - 77. Vienna: National Defence Academy and Bureau for Security Policy at the Austrian Ministry of Defence, 2010. Welt, Cory. “Balancing the Balancer: Russia, the U.S., and Conflict Resolution in Georgia.” Global Dialogue 7, no. 3-4 (Summer/Autumn 2005), 22-36. Wolff, Stefan. "Georgia: Abkhazia and South Ossetia." Encyclopedia Princetoniensis. "World Directory of Minorities and Indigenous Peoples: Ossetians." Minority Rights Group International. http://minorityrights.org/minorities/ossetians/.

*Feature* John R. Allen John R. Allen is a retired United States Marine Corps four-star general, and former commander of the NATO International Security Assistance Force and U.S. Forces - Afghanistan (USFOR-A). He was appointed by President Barack Obama as the special presidential envoy for the Global Coalition to Counter ISIL (Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant). He is currently the President of the Brookings Institution, and his most recent research addresses the effects of artificial intelligence in a variety of sectors. Allen’s piece in JPPE’s second issue explores the effects of artificial intelligence on the future of education. Fall 2018 Artificial intelligence (AI) and emerging technologies (ET) are poised to transform modern society in profound ways. As with electricity in the last century, AI is an enabling technology that will animate everyday products and communications, endowing everything from cars to cameras with the ability to interact with the world around them, and with each other. These developments are just the beginning, and as AI/ET matures, it will have sweeping impacts on our work, security, politics, and very lives. These technologies are already impacting the world around us, as Darrell West and I wrote in our April 2018 piece “How artificial intelligence is transforming the world ,” and I highly recommend that anyone just discovering the topic of AI policy read it thoroughly. There, Darrell and I describe several important implications related to AI/ET, but chief among them is that these technology developments are on the cusp of ushering in a true revolution in human affairs at an increasingly fast pace. As AI continues to influence and shape existing industries and allows new ones to take root, its macro-level impact, particularly in the realm of economics, will become more and more apparent. Control over the research and development of AI will become increasingly vital, and the winners of this upcoming AI-defined era in human history will be the countries and companies that can create the most powerful algorithms, assemble the most talent, collect the most data, and marshal the most computing power. This is the next great technology race of our generation and the stakes are high, particularly for the United States. If American society is to embrace the full range of the social and political changes that these technologies will introduce, then it is the education and training we provide our youth and workers that will fuel the engines of future AI, and therefore geopolitical success. I've studied and written extensively about the effects of AI/ET on the evolving character of war toward a concept I’ve called hyperwar – or, a new era of warfare in which, through AI, the speed of decision making is faster than anything that has come before. At a superficial level, this topic often devolves into a discussion of “killer robots,” or at the very least the impending use of AI in lethal autonomous weaponry. While those discussions are relevant and inextricably linked, they represent a narrow understanding of the greater issues at hand. The concern over AI’s potential or theoretical military applications must not distract us from how far-reaching the impact of AI will be in nearly all other policy domains. Health care, education, agriculture, energy, finance, and yes, national security, will all be reshaped in some way by AI – with education being the pivot point around which the future of the United States revolves. This is not solely a matter of social redress – which is by itself is extremely important – but in fact is a larger national security issue. The way we use education to prepare our next-generation of leaders will directly determine whether the US retains its leadership in critical fields of relevance in the emerging digital environment. Without a sufficiently educated population and workforce, the US likely will slip behind other states for whom AI/ET is not only means for improved social organization, but for strategic superiority, and potentially for digital and physical conquest. A future in which the United States is second in the race for AI technology would create a situation of national technological and digital/cyber inferiority, which could in turn result in national strategic subservience – something simply unimaginable in a world of growing strategic competition with systems of government very different from ours. Many Americans grew up with the understanding that the US’ capacity to fight and win a nuclear war was defined by its superiority in the Strategic Triad, the three legs of our strategic deterrence: our missile squadrons, our bomber fleet, and our ballistic missile submarines. Behind that dizzying array of hardware was the undisputed power of US intellectual and technical capabilities, and behind that was a near unlimited supply of talented engineers, each trained by a system of education undisputed in its excellence. That system was built from the ground up to produce crucial STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) protégés in the quantities needed to ensure American strategic superiority, which contributed directly to the US and its allies prevailing in the Cold War. For the health of our American way of life, our competitive advantage, and the strategic security of our nation, the basis for tomorrow’s system of education must reflect a deliberately tuned and calibrated system that proactively emphasizes AI/ET, big data analytics, and super-computing. Unfortunately, in both relative and absolute terms, the US is falling behind in the race for superiority in these key technologies and AI. Where the US strategic advantage of the 20th Century was secured by American nuclear superiority, US superiority in the 21st Century will likely be preserved, safeguarded, and sustained through a system of education that envisages the changes necessary and is sufficient to embrace and apply relevant technologies. It will also be underwritten by educators who grasp the profound shifts in the pedagogical skills essential to the educational needs of the 21st Century. The need to adapt is great – and for this system to be fully embraced it must come in the form of a comprehensive and national US strategy for education in the digital age, to include the resources necessary to bring education into the digital classroom, and to educate and train entire generations of educators to be relevant in the 21st Century and beyond. The United States must at all costs preserve its position of primacy in AI, big data, and super-computing through leaders who understand these issues on a fundamental level and have the political will to develop and resource a comprehensive plan for reimagining our national education efforts. In thinking about the essence of a US national education strategy adapted to the digital age, several important questions arise pertaining to the way we think about education and develop the next generation of leaders: What will be the implications for how we educate, train, and develop teachers? A discussion on the impact of AI on education will point dramatically to those who facilitate the process in our schools. The very term “teacher” may be insufficient to adequately capture the role of this key individual in the educational experience. Teaching and learning requirements may be substantially re-ordered and the dynamic of learning versus teaching in an AI-based system of education will be very different. And while teachers today are in many ways the unsung and underappreciated heroes of the American workforce, the teachers of the digital age may define the future of America. This will raise important questions about requirements for teaching degrees and related certificates in this new environment, and the necessary adaptation of the science of pedagogy to these changes. Ultimately, the key question will be “are the teachers of today ready to develop the leaders we will need tomorrow?” A difficult question, to be sure, and the answer today is no. The national education strategy must focus on their development as it focuses on the students as well. What will the AI-based classroom look like? With AI, every aspect of the traditional learning environment is up for reimagining. Will classrooms continue to be physical spaces? Or instead, will it be a virtual "space" using networked augmented or virtual reality technologies? The answer is yes to both, and the student in tomorrow’s AI based educational experience will be exposed to an immersive, digital education heretofore unimaginable. The distributed, networked, virtual reality classroom is both enormously exciting, and at the same time frightening for the enormity of its potential. There are major challenges to measuring success in an AI-based educational process. For instance, if our students can become more deeply involved in the pathways of their own learning through AI, measurement will occur moment to moment, as well as the success of remediation. In the best-case scenario, we will know at the end of each student’s day if s/he is meeting academic requirements and quickly correct deficiencies as necessary to stay on track. In any case, there are profound moral questions to consider with a system such as this, and policymakers must understand the underlying dynamics of the technologies at play if they are to fully support society. What will this kind of system of education do to reduce inequalities in our society? One of the most profound aspects of education in the AI environment is that these technologies could unleash the potential and productivity of a huge sector of American and global society hitherto constrained by their educational experience and resulting lack of opportunity. Local governments, schools, and especially the private sector will need to routinely intersect to create synergy and symbiosis to enhance our educational processes. Through the AI-powered digital space, “opportunity for all” may become a reality for those who previously had little means of achieving their own piece of the American Dream. The profoundly limiting feature of these opportunities lies in internet and 4G and 5G penetration within the United States, and the sometimes appallingly scarce educational resources committed in some areas in America. There are large segments of the US where our education systems, and our youth, have limited-to-no access to the internet and to Wi-Fi. If we hope to achieve our digital potential, and to continue to maintain our lead in AI and other emerging technologies, a national program to bring Wi-Fi and the internet to all our citizens is absolutely essential, and will in any case help to close the sometimes yawning gaps created by racial and income inequality in the US. AI/ET promise to usher in a bold new era of human history, one where the machines we create will oftentimes be smarter, faster, and more powerful than those who created them. This reality has profound implications for the field of education and introduces complex ethical, legal, and societal implications that academics, policymakers, and average citizens alike will need to contend with as every aspect of society reshapes around them. Further, the United States risks strategic inferiority if it does not embrace a full reconsideration of education in the digital environment, to include a comprehensive strategy for reimagining our education system at the national level. Today, we are not training our young leaders with the tools required to be successful in the digital age, and that has deeply troubling implications for the future of American society. Nevertheless, just as the United States persevered through the Cold War through technological superiority, I am hopeful that the 21st Century will yet again be one defined by American leadership – with our best and brightest from across the entire society leading the charge in digital era.

Transparency and Compliance The Strength of EU Lobbying Regulations Abigail Borges Brown University Author Miles Campbell Audrey McDermott Sydney Munro Editors Fall 2018 This essay discusses the outright robustness of the European Union's lobbying regulations in comparison to the regulations in the EU countries, concluding that it is on par with or surpasses regulatory strength in the states. The interactions between politicians and lobbyists present a challenge to governments’ transparency and accountability, and affect supranational entities like the European Union. Before evaluating a lobby’s influence, it is necessary to understand what exactly defines these groups and how they interact with governments. ‘Lobbyists’, which will be used synonymously with ‘interest groups’, are defined as those seeking to influence the outputs of a given policy-making process. Lobbyists attempt to support their interests by affecting policy outputs through methods like maintenance of a status quo or the implementation of a new policy. In response to lobbyist manipulation, recent policy trends have been in favor of controlling lobbying by creating level playing fields for interest groups to operate. Such policy trends include an expansion of the European Union’s lobbying rules over time. In 1996, the European Parliament introduced provisions for simple yearly passes for lobbyists seeking access to the Parliament building. The European Commission implemented its own rules that likewise lacked teeth in 2008 by instituting a voluntary lobbyist register.[1] The bodies’ recent replacement regulation, the Joint Transparency Register (JTR), has prompted a re-evaluation of the EU’s robustness in terms of lobbying controls, especially when considering the precedents set by national governments. Scholars in the field take robustness to mean “the capacity of the regulation to increase transparency and accountability,” which reflects the rules’ level of usage and reliability.[2] Though there is certainly room to strengthen its provision of regulations regarding lobbyists, the EU is holistically and comparatively more robustly regulatory than EU member nations in managing interest groups. This lead is earned both by having regulations in the first place and by these rules’ ability to equal or surpass the robustness of lobbying regulations in the EU’s member states. First, a brief overview of the implications of the JTR for the EU and its lobbyists is necessary to more clearly understand how the regulations imposed by the JTR compare with the regulations enacted its constituent states. The JTR’s stated goal was to increase transparency, replacing regulatory structures in the Parliament and Commission for a joint registration for all lobbyists.[3] Transparency and accountability are the two main goals associated with lobbying regulation. These standards aim to let voters know who influences whom and allow them to see the degree to which a given politician or lobbyist is responsible for a policy. The EU’s definition of a lobbyist expanded “to include law firms, NGOs, think tanks - indeed any organization or self-employed individual engaged in influencing EU policy making and implementation.”[4] This expansion ensures that no agents seeking to affect policy can find a loophole or excuse to avoid the option of registering for the JTR. The most crucial detail about the JTR in this sense is its voluntary nature: since it allows the option for groups not to register, one can question the extent to which such a transparency register can be effective. Still, the JTR did strengthen disclosure provisions and data accessibility with measures such as necessitating yearly reports on personal and organization information and financial details at the time of register (though notably not in regular reports thereafter). All of this information was then made available to the public online. Finally, registration required compliance with a code of conduct that includes pledges against dishonesty, incentives for disclosure, and mechanisms to handle breaches of the code.[5] Scholars Chari and Crepaz maintain that interest groups have largely complied with the JTR system, suggesting that many of the goals the JTR had in its launch have proven successful.[6] In several ways, the regulations imposed by the JTR are on par with other European countries. In terms of the Centre for Public Integrity’s index of lobbying regulation robustness, the JTR’s regulations fall directly in the middle of the EU nations’ regulation ratings, with a score of 31. Slovenia, Hungary, Lithuania, and Austria received higher scores, and Poland, the UK, France, and Germany received lower.[7] This measure indicates that the JTR is indeed more robust than some, but falls short of others, with almost a twenty-point difference between it and the most regulated European lobby (Slovenia at 49). Notably, the JTR proposes more stringent regulations than the major constituent EU states, suggesting that the EU does more to control the actions of its lobbyists than the national entities that wield much of the power within it. This is especially true for Italy, who has no interest group regulation at all. Additionally, if judging instead by specific provisions of the JTR, the EU’s system again proves to be average in many dimensions. All states mentioned above in the CPI index have a register for lobbyists of some kind, which defines the substance of the JTR. Additionally, provisions like its code of conduct and voluntary nature are mirrored in countries like France and the UK.[8] Like the public lists of lobbyists found in Poland and Germany, the individuals and groups registered under JTR are openly accessible on the internet.[9] These measures all help establish the rules of the game and increase transparency and accountability in the overall process of lobbying. These aims are desirable because they give actors more information and require justification of one’s actions to the public. Thus, the EU and its JTR prove to be just as strong in a range of provisions as the other member states regulating interest groups. As much as the EU is on par with member nations that regulate lobbying, it is distinctly advanced among the other countries in Europe that do not have rules at all. Of the about fifty European nations, including the EU, only nine have enacted laws to regulate lobbying to speak of.[10] Thus, in its implementation of any regulations at all, the EU proves to be ahead of the curve. Some may argue that many of the states lacking lobbying rules do not need them because they do not have the same scope of lobbyists present as those systems with laws; this may be true, but not relevant to the question at hand evaluating outright robustness. Additionally, there have been many calls for increased regulation throughout Europe in general, to achieve the stated aims of increased transparency and accountability. Transparency International, a group centered on fighting corruption, released a 2015 report evaluating lobbying in Europe, its effectiveness, and its future. It concluded that the EU Commission’s rules are among one of only two of the nineteen European entities that score above 50% on its measures of transparency, integrity, and equality of access.[11] The authors also note that only seven of the entities feature any lobbyist-specific regulations, a fact which in the report it finds problematic and wishes to see changed.[12] Hence, the EU already surpasses many nations in its rule robustness simply by having regulations, regardless of what the regulations entail. Still, it becomes clear upon scrutiny that the details of the JTR’s regulation also prove more stringent than those of its European counterparts. This finding is true especially regarding the disclosure of financial information, the level of compliance, and the scope of lobbyists to which the rules apply. The JTR requires an initial submission of information concerning an organization’s spending and activity, and each type of lobbyist must disclose varying levels of financial information at this stage.[13] Though it does not require yearly spending reports, this documenting of finances is equivalent with, or stronger than, all other governments with registers. For comparison, Germany requests no information at all, nor does Poland.[14] Lithuania requires yearly spending and salary reports, which appears more robust than the EU, but compliance with its register is thought to be very low; 2004 estimates place the number of lobbyists registered at about one in seven of those who operate within the state.[15] Austria, too, requests yearly reports, but, similarly, this regulation does not effectively apply to many lobbyists.[16] By these terms, then, the manner in which the JTR requests financial information makes it stronger in interest group transparency, who cannot in theory spend considerable sums of money without at least some documentation. Money often captures influence in government, so it follows that financial disclosures are also significant in terms of accountability at the EU level. The JTR provides an effective medium for this disclosure, unlike most of its peers. Also related to this discussion are issues of compliance levels, for disclosures of any type do not matter if no one complies. In their recent comparative study of the JTR, Crepaz, and Chari found that based on the registration and spending disclosures of the largest corporations seeking to influence the EU, it can be concluded that firms are taking the JTR more seriously, with all examined firms registering and giving seemingly more accurate spending disclosures.[17] Comparatively, this is quite remarkable, as many other registration systems see low levels of compliance. Chari, Hogan, and Murphy find that in Lithuania, Hungary (whose 2003 regulations have been removed), and Poland, regulations are often ignored or maneuvered around, often because the term ‘lobbyist’ retains negative connotations.[18] The 2013 Venice Report on the Role of Lobbying puts forward a similar argument about Germany, explaining that “not being on the register is no real barrier to being in contact with Parliamentary committees or members of the Bundestag.”[19] With ability and ease to get around lobbying regulations, then, the regulations prove somewhat ineffective in Germany as well. Yet, as Crepaz and Chari point out, the JTR has in fact seen increased registration by EU interest groups since its adoption.[20] Low effectiveness in complying with registration could also be related to the scope of lobbyists to which the legislation applies, which in the EU is all activity, but in most other nations is narrowly defined. This scope and compliance indicates success on the part of the JTR in terms of transparency over the aforementioned countries, as it comes closer to the ideal of providing the most information about influence in political systems. Finally, the EU does feature less regulation for lobbyists in some dimensions of transparency and accountability that at first glance makes it seem like the JTR is not very robust, yet in practice this observation proves untrue. The first such category which the JTR lacks is a set of provisions regarding the so-called ‘revolving door’, preventing civil servants from immediately working as lobbyists and vice versa. The JTR fails to prevent such capacity for corruption. However, of the four European nations studied by Chari, Hogan, and Murphy, only Lithuania has these rules.[21] Further, Transparency International explains that most of the countries it studied have some sort of “cooling-off period” for officials, but Slovenia was the only one to implement the period for legislators. And yet, it also reports that none of these countries had “effective monitoring and enforcement of the revolving door provisions,” calling into question the effectiveness of the laws even where they exist.[22] Furthermore, Crepaz and Chari recognize that the EU Commission, top officials, and the EP all have internal revolving door regulations.[23] Therefore, even if the JTR itself does not provide cooling-off periods, the issue is effectively dealt with in other ways, which is not the case for the EU countries that on paper seem more regulated. Despite appearances, then, the EU still emerges with more robust and effective regulations than most, if not all, of its EU counterparts. For its strengths and advances, however, the JTR does have several other comparative drawbacks that leave room for improvement in relation to other European state entities. Primarily, it could make its law mandatory, as Austria and Slovenia have sought to do, to improve relative robustness. Transparency International analyzed the effective impact of Slovenia’s mandatory register and found that it operates on a “wholly inadequate scope covering only a small proportion of lobbyists,” because it defines interest groups so narrowly.[24] An analysis of the Austrian system found similar results.[25] In this way, the EU regulations are still arguably as strong as Slovenia’s and Austria’s laws, because they apply to a much broader scope of lobbyists and are complied with, as evidenced earlier by Chari and Crepaz. This engenders more compliance with and operation within the register in the EU. Aside from implementing a mandatory register, another way the JTR is comparatively less robust involves its sanctions and enforcements, of which it has few. Slovenia, Lithuania, and Austria score higher on the CPI index much for this reason.[26] For example, Slovenia has a Commission for the Prevention of Corruption (CPC) that provides oversight on many types of lobbyists, such as professional, in-house, and lobbyists from private sector interest organizations.[27] Though the JTR has a Secretariat intended to watch activity, its only effective power is naming and shaming, which Crepaz and Chari find especially problematic given the voluntary nature of the register.[28] As always, though, one must keep in mind that although the JTR is less regulated in oversight, its high compliance and the often low enrolment in other countries problematizes deeming the JTR less robust due to its less strict enforcement and sanction rules. Still, in these areas there is room for improvement of the JTR in comparison to other EU nations. Ultimately, on most dimensions the JTR proves generally stronger than, if not at least as strong as, its counterpart laws in EU member nations. In providing a voluntary register, public internet accessibility, and a code of conduct, the EU regulations are in line with the rules of its peers. In fact, in even having a register at all, EU lobbying laws are more robust than the lobbying regulations found in the majority of EU nations. When one examines precedents of financial disclosures, levels of compliance, scope of application, and even revolving door rules, the JTR is arguably strongest among its counterparts in effectively handling them. One must note that the voluntary nature of the JTR and its enforcement mechanisms could be improved considering the rules of countries scoring higher than the EU on the CPI index, even if these rules are not effectively followed. Overall, regardless of the diverse characteristics of distinct regimes, lobbying regulation systems seek to achieve the ideals of transparency and accountability. Considering the totality of the strengths mentioned above, by increasing public access to the entities and insight into their inner workings, the JTR moves the EU much closer to these goals than other regulating systems have proven to accomplish. Still, even if the EU is more regulated, it is not precluded from needing to further strengthen its provisions. A mandatory system of registration, for example, would ensure maximum transparency and accountability through behavioral regulation, as argued by Direnc Kanol.[29] In the realms of financial disclosures and sanctions, too, the JTR could seek improvement by strengthening its policies, further augmenting transparency and accountability. However, the aim of this study was to evaluate comparative, rather than outright, robustness, and by this measure the EU and its lobbying regulations prove decidedly strong. Endnotes [1] Michele Crepaz and Raj Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives to Regulate Lobbyists: Good or Bad Administration?,” Cuadernos Europeos de Deusto 82, no. 5 (2014): 77, accessed December 7, 2016, https://www.tcd.ie/Political_Science/assets/pdfs/eu_lobbyist_regulation_crepaz_ chari_2014.pdf. [2] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 81-82. [3] European Commission, Commission and European Parliament launch Joint Transparency Register to shed light on all those seeking to influence European policy, 2011, accessed December 7, 2016, http://europa.eu/rapid/press-release_IP-11-773_en.htm?locale=en . [4] European Commission, Commission and European launch Joint Transparency Register. [5] European Commission, Commission and European launch Joint Transparency Register. [6] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 89. [7] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 82. [8] Assemblée Nationale, "Interest Representatives in the National Assembly," Assemblée Nationale, accessed December 7, 2016, http://www2.assemblee-nationale.fr/14/representant-d-interets/repre_interet and UKLR, "About the Register," UK Lobbying Register, accessed December 7, 2016, http://www.lobbying-register.uk/about-.html. [9] Deutscher Bundestag, "Public List of Associations Registered with the Bundestag," Deutscher Bundestag, November 24, 2016, accessed December 10, 2016, http://www.bundestag.de/parlament/lobbyliste/ and OECD, Lobbyists, Governments and the Public Trust, Volume 2: Promoting Integrity through Self-Regulation (OECD Publishing, 2012), 62, accessed December 7, 2016, http://dx.doi.org/10.1787/9789264084940-en . [10] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 82. [11] Suzanne Mulcahy, Lobbying in Europe: Hidden Influence, Privileged Access (Berlin: Transparency International, 2015), 8, accessed December 7, 2016, http://www.transparencyinternational.eu/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Lobbying_web.pdf . [12] Mulcahy, Lobbying in Europe, 8. [13] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 79. [14] Raj Chari, John Hogan and Gary Murphy, Regulating Lobbying: A Global Comparison (Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 2010), 61, 173. [15] Chari, Hogan, and Murphy, Regulating Lobbying, 75-76. [16] Peter Köppl and Julia Wippersberg, “The State of Public Affairs in Austria,” Journal of Public Affairs 14, no. 1 (2014): 35-36, accessed December 9, 2016, http://dx.doi.org/10.1002/pa.1503 . [17] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 88-89. [18] Chari, Hogan, and Murphy, Regulating Lobbying, 76, 80, 84. [19] Venice Commission, Report on the Role of Extra-Institutional Actors in the Democratic System (Strasbourg: Venice Commission, 2013), 16, accessed December 8, 2016, http://www.venice . coe.int/webforms/documents/default.aspx?pdffile=CDL-AD(2013)011-e. [20] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 90. [21] Chari, Hogan, and Murphy, Regulating Lobbying, 168, 177. [22] Mulcahy, Lobbying in Europe, 9. [23] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 80. [24] Transparency International Slovenia, Lifting the Lid on Lobbying - Call for Transparent and Ethical Lobbying (Ljubljana: Transparency International Slovenia, 2014), 35, accessed December 1, 2016, http://www.transparencyinternational.eu/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/TI_SLO_LLL_report_ANG_web.pdf . [25] Köppl and Wippersberg, “The State of Public Affairs in Austria,” 36. [26] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 90. [27] Transparency International Slovenia, Lifting the Lid, 14. [28] Crepaz and Chari, “The EU’s Initiatives,” 80. [29] Direnc Kanol, “Should the European Union Enact a Mandatory Lobby Register?,” Journal of Contemporary European Research 8, no. 4 (2012): 524, accessed December 8, 2016, http://www.jcer.net/index.php/jcer/article/view/460/371 . Works Cited Assemblée Nationale. "Interest Representatives in the National Assembly." Assemblée Nationale. Accessed December 7, 2016. http://www2.assemblee-nationale.fr/14/representant-d-interets/repre_interet. Chari, Raj, John Hogan and Gary Murphy. Regulating Lobbying: A Global Comparison. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 2010. Crepaz, Michele and Raj Chari. “The EU’s Initiatives to Regulate Lobbyists: Good or Bad Administration?” Cuadernos Europeos de Deusto 82, no. 5 (2014): 71-97. Accessed December 7, 2016. https://www.tcd.ie/Political_Science/assets/pdfs/eu_lobbyist_ regulation_crepaz_ chari_2014.pdf . Deutscher Bundestag. "Public List of Associations Registered with the Bundestag," Deutscher Bundestag, November 24, 2016, accessed December 8, 2016. http://www.bundestag.de/parlament/lobbyliste/ European Commission. Commission and European Parliament launch Joint Transparency Register to shed light on all those seeking to influence European policy, 2011. Accessed December 7, 2016. http://europa.eu/rapid/press-release_IP-11-773_en.htm?locale=en . Kanol, Direnc. “Should the European Commission Enact a Mandatory Lobby Register?” Journal of Contemporary European Research 8, no. 4 (2012): 519-529. Accessed December 8, 2014. http://www.jcer.net/index.php/jcer/article/view/460/371. Köppl, Peter and Julia Wippersberg. “The State of Public Affairs in Austria.” Journal of Public Affairs 14, no. 1 (2014): 31-43. Accessed December 9, 2016. http://dx.doi.org/10.1002/pa.1503 . Mulcahy, Suzanne. Lobbying in Europe: Hidden Influence, Privileged Access. Berlin: Transparency International, 2015. Accessed December 7, 2016. http://www.transparencyinternational.eu/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Lobbying_web.pdf OECD. Lobbyists, Governments and the Public Trust, Volume 2: Promoting Integrity through Self-Regulation. OECD Publishing, 2012. Accessed December 7, 2016. http://dx.doi.org/10.1787/9789264084940-en . Transparency International Slovenia. Lifting the Lid on Lobbying - Call for Transparent and Ethical Lobbying. Ljubljana: Transparency International Slovenia, 2014. Accessed December 8, 2016. http://www.transparencyinternational.eu/wp-content/uploads/2014/ 12/TI_SLO_LLL_report_ANG_web.pdf. UKLR. "About the Register." UK Lobbying Register. Accessed December 10, 2016. http://www.lobbying-register.uk/about-.html. Venice Commission. Report on the Role of Extra-Institutional Actors in the Democratic System. Strasbourg: Venice Commission, 2013. Accessed December 8, 2016. http://www.venice . coe.int/webforms/documents/default.aspx?pdffile=CDL-AD(2013)011-e.

*Feature* JPPE INTERVIEW, PASCUAL RESTREPO: Pascual Restrepo is an assistant professor at Boston University. His research focuses on the impact of technology on inequality, as well as labour markets and economic growth. Prior to joining BU’s faculty, he was a Cowles Foundation Fellow at Yale University, and earned his PhD in Economics at MIT. Besides research work, he has given numerous lectures at conferences, workshops and seminars across the country. October 2020 JPPE: Hi, everyone. I'm speaking right now with Professor Pascual Restrepo, who is an Assistant Professor at Boston University, whose research focuses on the impact of technology on inequality, as well as labor markets and economic growth. Hi, Pascual. How are you? Restrepo: Hi, Julian. How are you? Thanks for inviting me. JPPE: Thanks for taking the time to speak with me. So, the first thing I wanted to talk about is how you got into automation and inequality, and I saw that in your earlier work you tended to focus on the illicit economy--and from what I could tell, within that, the illicit economy in Colombia. And I wanted to know how you shifted from that towards automation and inequality. Restrepo: Yeah, absolutely. So I'm from Colombia, you know, and when I was doing my undergrad, I started doing my undergrad in mathematics, but then I got interested in economics. And the key topics in the public discussion in Colombia was always about violence, always about state capacity, always about corruption and political economy. And at the center of all of that, you always have these big illegal markets that were reinforcing, if not causing many of these things. So as a Colombian, it's natural to be interested in that, because it's a topic that is very close to our hearts, our history, and our future. And that's why I started doing research on that topic. Then when I moved to the US to start my PhD, the focus shifted a little bit. I guess that doing a PhD is a great opportunity to start seeing the world from a more global perspective, perhaps, and so I became more interested in problems that were perhaps not as important for Colombia. I mean, Colombia, I wouldn't say right now that automation, it's a big concern there. There's a lot of inequality, but for very different reasons. And so I became interested in these topics that I saw were very relevant for the developed world. And so I think that it's kind of nice that you get to do research on topics that you hear people talking about, right? So like, you open a newspaper, you read The Economist, and they're always talking about, you know, automation, inequality, technology, and so on, but when I was in Colombia, it was the case with illegal markets, so I guess that I'm just trying to follow that trail. You know, like, interesting stuff. JPPE: So the shift towards a more global topic, with far-reaching implications. So, do you remember, was there a specific thing that you read? That made you interested? Do you remember the moment when you thought that this is something you wanted to focus on? Restrepo: Yeah, I don't think that it was anything specific. I just think that it was like an accumulation of stuff. And you know, when I was starting my PhD, there was all of the fuss about Artificial Intelligence. Everyone was fussing about what it was going to be. And I was, like, listening to podcasts by, I don't know, Sam Harris and other people, or the book by Yuval Noah Harari, and I started reading all of these things, and I was like, "Oh, this is super interesting, I wonder if you can analyze this from an economics perspective," right? JPPE: Right. Restrepo: And then, like, Daron--who was my advisor--and Daron apparently was also super interested in this thing, so we started this collaboration. JPPE: Yeah, yeah. So, I- and I think that this is one of the things that is so interesting about the topic, too, is that it is something that gets discussed in these journalistic spheres like The Economist or more central, mainstream publications, but also in academia. And also in a slightly more sensationalistic way by futurists and so on, because the name 'Artificial Intelligence' is kind of, you know, some people think of Blade Runner, or cyborgs walking down the streets. So I think cutting through that is very interesting, which is why one thing I did want to ask is where you stand on the question of automation. And I have four or five studies that you wrote that I just wanted to briefly mention, in case some people aren't familiar with that. One is a piece that you co-authored called "Demographics in Automation," where--and correct me if any of these takeaways are wrong, but--you showed that robots tend to substitute for middle-aged workers. In the paper "Automation of New Tasks," you showed that there is a reinstatement effect of labor, these new digital, labor-saving technologies. In "Competing With Robots," you showed that the overall impact of robot adoption on an industry tends to reduce the employment in that same industry--the number of jobs, at least in the short run. And in "Unpacking the Skill Bias," which I believe is the most recent paper you showed that there is this powerful impact on inequality, and that there is a reduction in real wages. And that productivity increases might not even be that high relative to inequality, which I thought was a very interesting point. So to the extent that you can, where do you stand on automation and AI? Restrepo: Perfect, so let me try to reframe this question a little bit. One of the questions that you sent me earlier on--and feel free to tell me if you're going to discuss it later on, or where this is a good moment to discuss it, because you asked what's wrong with public discourse about automation, right? JPPE: That was my next one, so we can do that now. Restrepo: Perfect. So I guess that what would be useful for me is to tell you how I see public discourse, and where I see myself into the public discourse, and why I think that some of the perspectives that Daron and I have brought are different from the main views that you would find out there, right? Because you see that you are asking me where do I stand on automation. And I think that that's part of what's the problem with this topic, is that people want to divide themselves into two groups. There's kind of a false dichotomy, so either you believe in the robot-apocalypse: you know, robots are going to come and are going to take over all of jobs or you are a firm believer that this has happened before, and that we have already seen this, and technology is great, and nothing is going to happen. And I think that the reality's in the middle. Undoubtedly, technology is the only thing that has allowed us to achieve our standards of living. But I also think that there's no denying that technology sometimes achieves that at the expense of some groups of society. And I think that that's where I stand. Technology is a great force. Technology allows us to live better lives. But some technologies--not every technology, because technologies are all so different, right? Like, I wouldn't say that automation is the same thing as inventing new products, right? Those two things do different things. Some technologies, like automation in particular, have this peculiar feature that the way that they generate productivity--that the way that they generate additional capacity to produce--is by substituting very specific types of human labor. And those workers that get replaced and that get substituted, from their perspective, technology is a bad thing. Socially, technology is a good thing, but there are going to be losers--net losers. And I think that my thing is just to put the spotlight on those losers, and try to identify them and quantify those losses. The idea that technology generates winners and losers--I mean, people have that around, but we tend to think that the gains are so large that this is okay, we just need to redistribute. I don't know, the losses sometimes might be much more problematic than what you can compensate for with the gains. JPPE: Right, certainly. I think even in the way that people phrase it: 'short term losses,' 'disruption.' Some people might say that there's a slight underselling of what the human costs of that disruption are. But I wanted to ask about whether or not AI is fundamentally different in your view, because you said it's somewhere in the middle. And it sounded like you were saying it's not going to be "a temporary loss of some jobs, but it's fine because we'll create new ones" or "a complete joblessness apocalypse." It might be somewhere in the middle. And that seems to me very much in line with what past labor-saving technologies did during the Industrial Revolution. You know, the classic example where you had a spike in the automation- or, a spike in labor-saving devices that increased inequality in the short run--and we can talk about the extent to which that was tolerable--but in the long run, those jobs came back. So do you think that it is fundamentally different from how devices in the past performed, or is it in line with that history? Restrepo: Perfect, so that's a great question. You know, we talk a lot about Artificial Intelligence, but we don't really know what it does. Right? JPPE: [laughing] Yeah . Restrepo: Right, so I can talk about technologies that I know what they do. So for instance, automation of manufacturing via industrial robotics, or automation of white-collar jobs via software, right? So let's just start there, and then we'll speculate a little bit more about AI. So I think that industrial robotics and automation of white-collar jobs via software--the economic forces are very similar to what we saw in the past, let's say, with the mechanization of agriculture. Or the mechanization of textile production in England during the Industrial Revolution, right? You have very artisanal techniques where it took a bunch of people, kids and women, to weave and knit a particular piece of clothing. And then you come out with these machines where you just need one person to operate the whole machinery, and essentially what you did is you replaced all that artisanal and labor-intensive technique that used to be the main technique before. Like with agriculture, you see the same thing, right? Before it was like people with rudimentary tools, such as a scythe, or whatever who would reap the land. And then you have a tractor, right? And the tractor, there's just one person; and that person, the only thing that he has to do is drive the tractor. Nowadays they don't even need to drive the tractor, because these tractors are becoming increasingly self-driving tractors. And so, you can see that, essentially, we are moving to technologies that are more, more, more capital-intensive and that rely less and less and less on human labor. And I think that the consequences, to some extent, are similar. So like, many people say, "Oh no, we have a lot of mechanization in history, and we still have a bunch of jobs, so that's not bad." But then you look at historical records; that argument is not exactly right. Because for instance, England around the Industrial Revolution, there were about 60 years where wages were essentially stagnant. So yes, this technology created more bounty, they created higher incomes per capita, but most of this income went to the hands of capital owners: people who owned the machinery, people who owned the land. And those gains didn't trickle down to wages until after 60 years of these developments. 60 years is a long time. During these years we had a lot of unrest. We had many, many social reforms to appease, some of the unrest that resulted from these. We had the Luddites, right? That was kind of a response to all of these developments. So, you know, it was not a rosy- it was not an easy transition. Now, of course, that puts us into a fantastic path where eventually, people acquire skills; we came out with new industries, products, and so want to employ a bunch of people. But that was kind of like a choice, right? I mean, maybe that wouldn't happen. And so I guess that that's the next question: what are we going to be able to come out with? The jobs, the ideas, the tech force, the tasks, or all of the people that we displaced from manufacturing and all of the people that we are displacing from services. I mean, what are we going to employ all of these people, right? And perhaps, what if the future is one where we're going to have fewer jobs? JPPE: You really think that there's a chance that the future could look like, on aggregate, there are fewer jobs that the economy requires. Restrepo: Yeah. JPPE: So in essence, the whole principle of efficiency gains creating jobs in new industries, that that principle might break down. Restrepo: I mean, I think that that principle has worked in the past, but the fact that it has worked in the past does not guarantee that it's going to keep working in the future. I think that at least theoretically, conceptually, I mean, it's possible. I'm not saying that it's going to happen, but it's possible that we go into a future where the economy uses less labor. So you know, like, only 20% of the population works, and that's enough to supply all of the labor that the economy needs. I mean, this is a great thing if all of us only work one day per week. But the problem is that we might be going to a future where only 20% of us work the entire week. And that's very different because the implications for inequality are quite different, right? So I guess that that's kind of the challenge. The challenge to me is not so much whether the level of employment that you need to produce something is going to go down--for sure that's going to go down. I mean, we're going to produce much more with fewer workers. The question is, who's going to provide those hours of human labor, and who are the people in a position to benefit from that demand for labor that's going to be out there? JPPE: Mm. So, I'd love to talk more about the social and political implications of what you just said, but first I want to ask about a pandemic-related question. Restrepo: Yep. JPPE: So, The Wall Street Journal just ran a headline where they said that, essentially, meatpackers were, all of a sudden, beginning to automate more and more labor, and that that automated technology was not necessarily doing as good a job as the humans were, but the coronavirus had essentially hastened that shift. And I believe there are other instances of that in manufacturing as well. So is this something that you view as bringing automation much faster? Restrepo: Totally. One of the papers that you mentioned earlier on was this paper on demographics. And in that paper, what we showed is that a lot of what you see in terms of industrial automation--that is, automation by industrial robots and machinery in car manufacturing plants, for example--is driven by the scarcity of work. This is technology that responds to incentive. So what are the most automated countries in the world? Japan, Germany, Italy, countries where the population is aging very rapidly--where young workers with the muscle to weld a car are scarce. And so it's that scarcity of labor, in some sense, what has fueled a lot of this automation. And you can think of the pandemic as doing something similar; it's generating a scarcity of labor. Because workers--on the one hand, they cannot go to work because of either concerns or lockdown measures--but also, there's also some safety measures that might make some automation technologies more safe than human workers, right? So there's an element of that. On the other hand, you know, this pandemic also gave me another reflection that many of us- or, many people thought that humans were already kind of obsolete, and humans were no longer needed, and this pandemic kind of made me revisit that view because it does suggest that humans are still extremely important for the country. JPPE: [laughing] Yeah. Restrepo: Extremely important, right? You take out the human element, and the economy completely gets destroyed. JPPE: And human contact too. Restrepo: Yeah. Absolutely. So, you know, it's not only about production, but so much of our economy is about humans interacting with other humans, and human contact that- it also kind of gives me some pause. Yeah, maybe, sure, maybe we're going to automate a lot of jobs, but maybe there's- you know, the economy's increasingly becoming more intensive in the sort of activities that, by their nature, they're just not automatable. Or we don't want to automate them because the quality of the goods that we are consuming then, they're dependent on human interaction, right? JPPE: Mm. And certainly I think there are instances- I mean, the skeptics that I've talked to about AI have definitely brought up instances; they'll pull up a treasure trove of articles where someone says, "We can now automate kindergarten teachers." Restrepo: Exactly. JPPE: And then we could do some polling on the number of moms and dads that would be happy with a robot teaching their kids- or, their kindergarteners. Restrepo: Yeah. Absolutely. JPPE: [laughing] But, so, I did want to ask more about the social and political side of this as well, and I don't mean to be flippant with this question, but I wanted to know why inequality is necessarily a bad thing. Restrepo: Great. I think that that's a great question, and I think that the answer is that it's not necessarily a bad thing, at least in my mind. Let me tell you the feature about current inequality that I think is absolutely a bad thing. I think that the problem with current inequality is not- I mean, you can have inequality for two reasons. You can have inequality because everyone's incomes are growing, but some incomes are growing much more rapidly than others. Right? Maybe there are some political, philosophical, or ethical reasons to be opposed to that type of inequality. Okay. But there, I don't think there's a very strong argument that everyone should agree that that type of inequality is very bad. Because that type of inequality might reflect, "Oh, maybe the people whose incomes are growing more, it's because they started a business." Right? You know, like Bezos. But Bezos has- is like a billionaire. But I would say yeah, if you ask me, I think that--well, maybe I'm more stating my case here, but--yes, he deserves to be a millionaire because-and a billionaire, because the product that he created delivers a lot of value, right? So I think that there's a chunk of inequality that is good and that I'm not opposed, at least, in terms of first principle. But. I do think that the nature of contemporary inequality is very different from that story that I was telling. Contemporary inequality is not just about some people who came up with great ideas, and their incomes grow a lot, and all of our incomes kind of grow just if we happen to work hard, and so on. Contemporary inequality, if I had to describe it, has this feature that we see groups of society who are worse off than before. So it's not just how incomes are growing. It is that some incomes are falling in real terms. And for me, that is something that is just... the biggest contemporaneous problem. That we have people who are worse off than their parents, than their previous generation. So if, in the U.S., you are a person who has high school or less than a high school degree, who comes from a poor background, actually your parents were better off than you in terms of labor market income. And that's kind of the scary aspect of inequality, that it's not even progress, but sometimes it means no progress at all for some society. That's the reason that makes me worry. And those groups, of course--I mean, that's going to have political implications, everything. But just from a humanity perspective, I think that as a society we can afford- I mean, we should aspire for trying to make everyone gain from technology, everyone gain from globalization, there shouldn't be anyone who is worse off than a person like him or her 30 years ago. JPPE: Mm. Mm. Yeah, and so, I mean, there is the data from Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez that tries to quantify how that inequality is today; and from what I have seen, it shows that it's roughly where it was at in the early 20th century. And so when you think about automation in conjunction with the general financialization of the economy, the rise of private debt, the extension of credit in the economy, do you feel like now is a particularly vulnerable moment for a shock to inequality through digitally-enabled automation? Restrepo: Yeah, absolutely. I think that part of the problem is that there's no safety net in this country. I mean, the safety net is kind of like- I mean we are seeing that with COVID, right? There's people whose finances are in an incredibly vulnerable position. And so imagine that you're in your 30s, you're in 40s, you have some debts, you don't own a lot of assets, and then they come out with this software that can do exactly what you're doing at your work, right? You are screwed! There's nothing you can do. JPPE: [laughing] Yeah. Restrepo: And then we turn to economists and the economists said, ‘no, because people can re-train, and people can relocate, and we're going to take that person and make that a coder, right? Or a software engineer.’ That's not going to happen! That's kind of like a lost generation there. And I think that we should care more about that potentially lost generation. JPPE: Mm. And in terms of reducing inequality, I actually- a month ago, I got to speak with historian Walter Scheidel on his thesis and The Great Leveler, that inequality only gets reduced or leveled by mass military mobilization, civil war, plague, or government collapse. And what was so striking about reading his book and talking with him was, it seemed to--on some level--be in opposition to a lot of the language in economics that seems to frame inequality and shocks as almost cyclical in nature, where there's a short run and a long run. And it seemed like Professor Scheidel's point was essentially that actually, there's been these exogenous forces in the form of, essentially, catastrophe, that have reduced inequality. And I'm wondering what your thoughts are on that. Restrepo: Yeah. So I think that for economists in general, I wouldn't say that inequality's just a cyclical phenomenon. I mean, if you read the labor economics literature, there's a lot of literature kind of emphasizing these trends and it's long-run trends. So like, over the long run, what we are seeing is that someone who has a college degree is earning much more than someone who does not have a college degree. And that just keeps expanding and expanding and expanding, and decelerated a bit and so on. But you know, there are these big trends. I wouldn't say that it's only about shocks. But I do think that economists emphasize much more the role of technology than politics. Right? I mean, there are some fields in Economics that emphasize much more the role of politics, and I think that in these shocks that you're mentioning, what needs to happen is a big shock, so that it triggers political reform, and so on. And that perhaps hasn't been so much included into the language of economists. The other thing that I would like to say is that, while I think that thesis is kind of interesting, you also see a lot of variation across countries. When you look at the data that are countries that technology is kind of universal- I mean, I was telling you about, you know, the Germans were the ones who invented industrial automation, same as Japan. And they don't have as much inequality as we do here in the U.S., right? That's also kind of a choice; I don't think that you need to have a war to reduce inequality. But you need to have more progressive taxation, and I mean when you think about inequality, that's the first thing that you should do! I mean, it's very simple. I mean, simple, technically. Politically, it might be difficult, but the solution is clear. JPPE: Right. And so, what do you think about proposals like a universal basic income, or a progressive basic income, or any variation of that? Negative income tax, and so on. Restrepo: Yeah, I think that anything that looks like a negative income tax, I think that would be greatly beneficial. Anything that looks like an earned income tax credit, that is subsidizing work for low-wage workers would be very beneficial. Also because it helps convince firms not to automate those jobs, so part of those jobs are subsidized. Anything like a universal basic income, I mean, I think it's- again, I like the idea; I don't like the idea of a universal basic income essentially substituting the whole safety net. I think that still having a government that buys insurance and that supplies all our programs that are more targeted to whoever it's useful. But I think that the spirit of all of these things is the same. We need a better safety net, right? And so, if you implement it one way or the other; if politically this is more feasible than this...I don't know. I'm fine. I just think that we do need some more safety net. JPPE: Right. So the last question I wanted to ask is: looking to the future, what are some open questions that you think would be really interesting to look at, either on inequality alone, or on automation and inequality and so on? And also, if not questions, some areas of research that you think, thus far, have been untapped. Restrepo: Perfect. So let me start with the first one. I think that one of the things that I find more puzzling about current technologies is that if you look at the labor market, you would conclude that there is a lot of disruption. You would conclude that there's inequality; the prices of different skills are changing the nature of jobs is changing; the types of jobs that we are posting are changing the skills that the labor market is valuing are changing. From looking at that, you would think, "Oh, technology is advancing at this amazing pace," but when you look at productivity, there's not a lot of productivity growth. And you know, this lack of productivity growth has been used by many to argue that automation, or that technology, is not a concern. So like, I saw that you did an interview with Paul Krugman at some point. JPPE: Yeah. He brought it up. Restrepo: Yeah, and I think he made that point. And I think that that point is kind of misguided. Because I think that one of the interesting things about automation technologies is that--and you already mentioned that this is something that we emphasize a lot--is that you can have automation without big productivity gains. And let me just give you an example of why that is the case. Imagine that I'm a worker working in a supermarket checkout machine, right? And then someone comes and invents a self-service kiosk, or whatever, right? That innovation is going to substitute me; but in terms of cost, how much is it going to reduce the cost for the supermarket? Very little! Because the worker was already very cheap; the machine itself is very cheap, but not as much! Right? Installing all of the equipment, programming, all of that--at the end of the day, the productivity gains is, I don't know, 1%? Something even smaller than that, that's just a small part of the cost? So at the end of the day, you unroll this technology, you deploy this technology, you substitute all of the checkout clerks, right? So that's a chunk of the population, and what are the productivity gains from doing that? Not that big. They're not that big; it's just like, you saved a little bit on costs. So automation has this thing that as long as you save a little bit on costs, you're going to adopt it. So you can have the adoption of a lot of automation technologies that have very small efficiency gains. And I think that that principle has escaped current discussions about automation. People equate productivity or technology with automation. Automation is just one particular type of technology--concerning one particular component of productivity--that has this feature that it can generate big distributional impacts just by having small productivity gains. But I think that the interesting research question there is to try to understand, why are we adopting automation technologies that have such, very low productivity gains? And that our candidate- one candidate is perhaps taxation. Maybe we're doing this because we're taxing labor a lot so that's inducing us to adopt more automation, even if that's not very profitable, from an engineering perspective. Or maybe it's a cultural thing. So I think that those are the big, important questions. What determines the direction of technology? Are we going to keep focusing on automation, automation, automation? Or are we going to have a more balanced element of technologies that, in the long run, it's going to end up being more beneficial for all of those people--that I already discussed--that have experienced net losses in their income in the last 30, 40 years? JPPE: Professor Restrepo, thanks so much. Restrepo: Thanks. Thanks for having me, Julian.

Health/Disease Distinction Normative Uses Margot S. Witte Brown University Author Matthew Flathers Fengyi Wan Alex Vaughan Williams Editors Fall 2018 I consider the question of whether or not it is permissible to intervene, given a particular medical condition. Typically, we argue that healthy conditions do not permit interventions, while disease conditions do. In this paper, I argue that the distinction between “healthy” and “diseased” is too slippery to be practically useful, and suggest that we should do away with it in clinical practice, substituting a model of asking whether an individual needs help. Introduction Every time a physician faces a condition in clinical practice, they must determine whether or not to intervene. This is an ethical question: “When ought I to intervene?” The centrality of the question in the practical world means that it merits philosophical consideration. In this essay, I will be focusing on the distinction between conditions for which intervention is permissible and conditions for which it is not permissible. The first category of conditions can be further divided into conditions for which intervention is required and conditions for which it is merely permissible, but I will not be addressing this second distinction. It is also important to note that I am concerned in this paper with the question of whether or not intervention is permissible, not whether or not a physician will intervene. The answer to the second question relies on issues like resource allocation and standard practices, which are outside the scope of this paper. The distinction we draw between conditions that do and do not permit intervention ought to align with our general intuitions. There are two main reasons to pick an intuitive distinction over an unintuitive one. First, intuition is acceptable evidence in ethical decisions. We can see one simplistic reason for accepting this by considering ethical propositions that we take to be true independent of ethical analysis. For example, someone who isn’t familiar with moral theory would say that, all things being equal, it is worse to kill indiscriminately than not to kill indiscriminately. This person’s primary evidence is their moral intuition, and we think that they are justified in their conclusion. The second reason we should accept intuition as evidence in finding a normatively useful distinction between conditions that permit and do not permit intervention is that we require a practical theory. The intention of this distinction is for it to be used practically by real physicians in real clinics. If the distinction goes against general moral intuition, it will not be followed by the majority of physicians. Often, the distinction between “health” and “disease” is used to make decisions about intervention, where intervention is permissible in the case of disease and impermissible in the case of health – or, in some theories, we should be agnostic about whether to intervene in cases of health . The primary purpose of this paper is to investigate how helpful this health/disease distinction is and whether we need an alternative. I will consider various conceptual analyses of disease and see which, if any, are most helpful. Just as there are different definitions of what qualifies a state as diseased, there are different definitions of what qualifies a state as healthy. The World Health Organization defines health as more than just “the absence of disease and infirmity.” It is also a “complete physical, mental and social well-being” that every human has the right to.[1] This creates three categories: diseased, healthy, and an in-between category, in which people are neither diseased nor infirm, but lack complete well-being. Because I am focused on whether health/disease distinction works to guide us in determining whether or not it is permissible to intervene, a situation with only two options, I will be discussing the theories that have only two categories: healthy and diseased. The first part of my paper will be concerned with different versions of the health/disease distinction and specific counterarguments to each distinction. I will then consider the possible problems that arise from using the health/disease distinction, however it is drawn, to make the normative decision about whether or not it is permissible to intervene. Finally, I will propose another way to make this distinction and evaluate the shortcomings and potential areas of further investigation for this new theory. The “Health”/“Disease” Distinction There are three primary approaches to conceptualizing disease: naturalism (sometimes called objectivism), constructivism (sometimes called normativism), and the relatively recent addition of embedded instrumentalism. In this section, I will consider these three theories of disease and analyze their abilities to provide necessary and sufficient conditions for disease, with the assumption that if there are serious weaknesses with the theory as a definition, it is not advisable to employ it as a normative guide to distinguish between conditions that do and do not permit intervention. The first theory I will consider is naturalism. Naturalists believe that the label “disease” represents an objective, intrinsic category of conditions and that we can determine whether a condition falls into the category by making empirical observations. Proponents of the theory claim that it is completely value-free and non-normative.[2] Dominic Murphy summarizes naturalism with a two-step classification system meant to determine whether a condition is a disease.[3] The first step is to determine whether a biological organ or system is malfunctioning. The second step is to determine whether the malfunction is harmful to the person it is affecting. As Murphy formulates naturalism, a condition is a disease if and only if the answer to both questions is yes. Most accounts of naturalism follow a similar structure, even if they do not break it down as clearly as Murphy. There is some variation within naturalism about what counts as a “malfunction.” While some theorists appeal to a common sense notion of “functioning,” most argue that a system is functioning if it is working in the way it was evolutionarily intended to work. Under this definition, the structure of the eye was naturally selected for because of its ability to pick up a given range of wavelengths and activate the optic nerve in a given way. Christopher Boorse, a major figure in naturalism, argues for what he calls a “Bio-Statistical Theory” of what qualifies as normal functioning.[4] He claims that, for any system, we can determine a species-specific standard based on a reference class with an acceptable level of variation. If a particular organism’s system significantly varies from the standard, it is malfunctioning. So, if an eye fails to pick up a wavelength that the statistically standard eye in the appropriate population picks up, it would be considered malfunctioning. Boorse defends his Bio-Statistical Theory on the grounds that it allows us to determine whether or not a system is malfunctioning in an objective manner without inserting our own beliefs about what constitutes “normal.” The philosopher Elselijn Kingma points out that naturalism, especially as formulated by Boorse’s Bio-Statistical Theory, is not at all free of subjective value-judgments. She claims the organisms that we choose to include in the reference class are determined through normative ideas about what proper functioning is, so it would be circular to use the standard class to make determinations about what qualifies a system as properly functioning.[5] The Bio-Statistical Theory only moves the value judgment problem up a level: instead of making a value judgment about what functioning is normal, we make a value judgment in selecting which organisms are normal and should constitute our reference class. Besides the problem of circularity, general naturalists face another problem: an organ can be functioning in its proper way according to evolutionary biology, but still be considered “diseased.” Kingma gives the example of an overdose of paracetamol, an over the counter pain reliever that causes liver damage. A properly functioning liver will reduce in function when flooded with the drug. In this case, the liver certainly is not healthy, but it is functioning appropriately, given the unfortunate situation it is in. Even if an organ is functioning properly, external conditions that Kingma calls “stressors” can cause an organ to become diseased.[6] If someone came into a clinic with an overdose of paracetamol and the physician extended the naturalist theory of disease to a normative theory, she would find that the liver was not diseased and that it would be impermissible to treat the patient. The problem of circularity and the practical problem of a somewhat limited idea of diseased both seem to be major weaknesses that stand in the way of using naturalism as a normative guide in clinical practice. The second conceptual analysis of disease I will consider is constructivism, which makes no attempt to shy away from a value-based, normative conception of disease. Constructuralists see disease categories as formulated based on social constructions about which physical conditions are healthy and which are not. They claim that we cannot understand disease independent of social concepts like “culture, history, meaning, and the constructed nature of medical phenomena.”[7] Because this definition of disease is so rooted in social constructions, constructivists accept (and expect) that the conditions that are diseases will vary across cultures. Some constructivists, like Lawrie Reznek, explicitly reject the idea that a malfunction is necessary for a condition to be a disease. To support their theory, constructivists often cite conditions that used to be considered diseases but are no longer. A common example is that of homosexuality. Reznek explores the way that conditions can move between the categories of disease and healthy across time and space and uses that as evidence that these are not mere category mistakes, but that the categories themselves are variable.[8] Naturalists respond to this claim by maintaining that they really are category mistakes, and that the removal of homosexuality from the “disease” category was an example of psychologists realizing that they had mislabeled a condition in which all systems are properly functioning a disease, not that the category “disease” had changed to exclude homosexuality.[9] Constructivists claim that while a disease can be traced back to a real biological process, the determination of whether a specific biological process is a disease relies on social considerations. This determination is based on a shared idea of what constitutes a “normal” and “valued” state. The problem with this approach is that there is variation about what these states are even in a specific community. This begs the question, “What counts as a community?” which naturalists disagree on. It seems excusable that the variation of “normal” across cultures might bleed into a sense of variation of “normal” within a culture, but the theory is meaningless without an idea of “normal” specific to a culture. There are also structural problems with the constructivist position. Constructivists are most likely correct that some diseases, particular psychological disorders, are based on social ideas about what conditions are valuable, but are they right that the entire category of disease is socially constructed without any naturalistic basis? It seems possible that there are some conditions that are classified as disease merely due to social factors, but that there are others that are true biological malfunctions. This means that constructivists cannot make their case by pointing out individual conditions that have moved into or out of the “disease” category; they need to prove that the entire category is based on social norms and that there are no diseases that can be categorized as such by only empirical evidence without social judgment. The constructivists do not seem concerned with making that sort of argument, though. Constructivist Peter Conrad writes that he is “not interested in adjudicating whether any particular problem is really a medical problem… I am interested in the social underpinnings of this expansion of medical jurisdiction.”[10] This structural problem of constructivism may be accounted for by the fact that most constructivists are more concerned with social issues than with philosophical definitions, so their arguments sometimes read more as descriptions of the medical method, rather than “necessary and sufficient condition” based arguments. This problem may dissolve if we read constructivism in the tradition of social critique rather than philosophy, but if we are to consider using the theory as a normative – and necessarily philosophical – guide that can help us determine which conditions permit intervention, we must read it as a philosophical theory, and its structural problems become unavoidable. The second structural problem of constructivism is that society already makes a distinction between those who we think are diseased and those that we disapprove of for other reasons. We do not pathologize every norm-breaking condition (general laziness, ugliness, poor taste in house decor, for example) and when people do things we ethically disapprove of, we often question their morals, rather than their sanity. So if constructivists want to argue that those we classify as having diseases are merely breaking social norms, they need to account for why we classify them differently from other norm-breakers who we don’t classify as diseased. They must explain why those who are diseased are norm-breakers in a health-related way without appealing to biological notions of “health.”[11] This is a difficult explanation to provide, and there is no standard constructivist answer. The third and final analysis of disease I will consider is that of embedded instrumentalism. Kenneth Richman, who developed embedded instrumentalism, borrowed some elements from constructivism but worried that any theory of disease that is based on culturally-contingent factors could not be universal. He proposed a theory in which health is indexed to goals, such that how healthy an agent is determined by how well they can fulfill their goals. He wanted to propose “a theory of health which characterizes certain states as being valuable neither intrinsically nor merely because they are useful, but rather because of their being in an appropriate relationship to an individual’s actual values.”[12] Richman rejects the view that certain goals are intrinsically valuable. He argues that if we begin with fairly agreeable goals like “The proper functioning of a heart is an intrinsically valuable goal”, we will eventually get to more troubling organs and will have to make claims like “The proper functioning of a set of ovaries is an intrinsically valuable goal.” Of course, about 41.5% of reproductive-age people with ovaries in the United States use some form of hormonal birth control, with the specific goal of ensuring their ovaries are not functioning.[13] Richman thinks that it is impossible to form a coherent argument that a heart functioning is intrinsically good but a set of ovaries functioning is not. One possible objection to this argument is that someone with very low ambitions might be considered healthy merely by virtue of their laziness. Richman tries to account for this problem by introducing the Richman-Budson view of health. According to this view, a person’s health is not indexed to their actual goals, but to the set of goals they would choose for themselves if they were fully aware of their “objectified subjective interests,” by which he means the goals they would set for themselves if they were perfectly rational and had full knowledge of themselves and their environments. There is a counterexample to the Richman-Budson view, however. What if the goals we have are unreasonable? If I have the goal of playing 48 simultaneous chess games while blindfolded, but I can’t achieve that goal due to my poor visual memory, lack of practice, etc., am I ill? It seems like obviously, I am not, but that goal is compatible with a full (though generous) understanding of myself and my environment. Is a concept of disease helpful in deciding whether to intervene? Beyond the specific problems that each individual theory of disease faces, the structure itself of the healthy/disease distinction may not be a helpful guide for clinicians trying to decide whether or not it is permissible to intervene when faced with a specific condition. I will look at four potential issues with using the health/disease distinction to determine whether to intervene in a specific condition. First is the threat of circularity. Some philosophers of medicine explicitly use the normative distinction of whether or not a condition allows intervention to ground their healthy/disease distinction, which would make it circular for us to use the health/disease distinction as an ethical guide to determine whether intervention is permissible, and most implicitly use it. One example of the explicit use is John Harris’ “ER test,” in which he argues that a condition is a disease if the condition makes someone worse off and if we would think medical personnel would be negligent if they did not treat this person if they came into an ER.[14] If we were to try to use such a distinction to determine whether or not to treat someone, we would be stuck in a circular argument. Germund Hesslow makes a related argument that the concept of disease is not normatively useful in clinical practice because it “does not coincide with any clinically important or morally relevant categories.”[15] Regardless of what theory of disease we choose, there are examples of conditions that are not diseased that permit intervention and diseases that do not permit interventions. Hesslow considers three types of conditions where this nonequivalence surfaces. First, doctors regularly treat patients in healthy states. He cites the examples of plastic surgery, gender affirmation surgery, and vaccination. Surely, we do not think that a too-big nose, gender, or a natural susceptibility to infection make a person diseased. Second, there are conditions that are technically pathological which physicians rarely treat, including benign tumors like birthmarks. Third, physicians sometimes intentionally induce pathological symptoms. Hasslow gives the example of sterilization, but we can also consider Richman’s argument about birth control. According to Hasslow, if disease was a clinically useful category, then physicians would never intentionally induce disease-symptoms. A third argument against using the healthy/disease distinction to guide clinical practice is that the version of the distinctions discussed so far includes too much information in some ways and too little information in others. A theory of disease gets caught up in all the issues of a conceptual analysis. For instance, every theory requires a value-laden discussion of “norms” and “normality.” (Recall that naturalism claims that norms are biologically determined, constructivism claims that they are socially determined, and embedded instrumentalism that they are indexed to personal goals.) If we are only concerned with deciding whether or not it is permissible to intervene, it would be ideal to develop a theory that we can use as a clinical guide without having to develop an entire theory of disease. In other ways, the theory has too little information to provide practical clinical guidance. If we only consider “disease,” we have no way of determining whether to intervene in cases of disability or injury. But there is no obviously philosophical, ethical, or even ontological distinction between disease and injury or disability. It seems likely that the ethical norms that govern disease should also govern disability and injury, and conceptual analyses of disease fail to provide guidance in these cases. Ereshefsky makes a fourth argument again the entire project of a conceptual analysis of disease. He claims that there is a structural problem with the health/disease distinction.[16] The distinction must take into account at least two factors: the physical state of the individual and the social value or disvalue of that state. On one extreme is naturalism, which values only the former, and on the other is staunch constructivism in the vein of Conrad, which values only the latter. There are some approaches that try to balance the two, like instrumentalism. But like any philosophical problem of distinction, however we try to balance the two factors, there will always be counterexamples. In this way, Ereshefsky thinks that the project is doomed to fail. The distinction between health and disease does not map onto a permissible/impermissible intervention distinction. At best, it distinguishes between conditions that permit intervention (diseases) and conditions that require more consideration (health). If we say that all healthy conditions do not allow for intervention, we make preventative medicine impermissible. It would be much neater if we had a single theory that could give us normative guidance on whether or not it is permissible to intervene. A New Theory: “Do you want help?” I propose a new approach that is still normatively useful in that it helps decide between when intervention is permissible and when it is not, but it does not run into the same difficulties as a conceptual analysis of disease. On my account, the distinction between whether or not intervention is permissible comes down to the question of whether an agent wants help. If they do want help, one is permitted to intervene. If not, one is not permitted. This approach is most closely related to that of embedded instrumentalism but tries to eliminate the aspects of it that are not relevant to the normative distinction between intervening and not intervening. For now, I will take a relatively general view of what qualifies as “wanting help.” I imagine the theory would be used in clinical practice in which a particular symptom is brought to a clinician's attention and they have to determine whether or not it is permissible to intervene. Whether or not help is wanted would be determined by the agent, and “help” would be whatever the intervention the physician is considering. Typically, we think that the phrase “I need help” as remedying some status that the agent considers troubling, but what qualifies it as troubling is up to the agent. This approach solves some intrinsic problems of using a theory of disease as a moral guide. Although it may seem that this approach is just as circular as using a conceptual analysis of disease, it is not. To see this, we can consider the difference between asking whether someone wants help and whether one ought to help them. The first is a practical question, and therefore can be used to answer an ethical question – “Will I intervene?” – without the threat of circularity. The second is an ethical question and results in circularity when we try to use it in this case. With this new distinction, we are not substituting one distinction in for another; we are using the question of whether someone wants help as a guide to help us understand when we are permitted to intervene. Additionally, the question of whether someone needs help has exactly as much information as we need to determine whether or not to intervene. It is not bogged down by the complications of a conceptual analysis, but it covers disability and injury. Because the theory is not supposed to be used as a definition, only as a guide for action, there is no need to hold onto any “intrinsic idea of health” and we can limit the scope of our consideration to the agent’s desires. The theory is also immune to Hesslow's criticism that theories of disease are irrelevant to clinical practice. This approach is built with use in mind such that part of the theory itself is a normative guide for clinicians that clearly determines whether or not they are permitted to intervene. Although the theory draws significantly on instrumentalism, it doesn’t face the same problems. The primary counterarguments to instrumentalism are that it fails to provide a coherent conceptual analysis, which simply is not a problem for a theory that is explicitly not a conceptual analysis – the theory doesn’t have the same definitional burdens. Unlike instrumentalism, this theory doesn’t have to provide necessary and sufficient conditions to classify a condition as a disease. This new theory also aligns better with our intuitions about intervention than the normative extensions of the conceptual analyses of disease. As discussed in the introduction, it is in our interests to develop an intuitive theory both because intuition is valid evidence for ethical reasoning and because a theory that is unintuitive is much less likely to be followed and therefore considered useful. We can use case studies to test our intuitive distinction between who wants help and who does not. We can compare how closely the “help” distinction and the normative extension of the theories of diseases align with our intuitions. Case 1 : A person who knows they are pre-diabetic Intuition: Intervention (education, for example) is permissible. Case 2 : A person seeking an abortion for themselves Intuition: If we put aside the abortion debate, intervention is permissible. Case 3 : A person with delusion and hallucinations who is isolated from society (i.e. not a danger to anyone; harm to him does not impact others) and does not want help Intuition (crowd-sourced for three college students): Intervention is impermissible. A theory that relies on an evolutionary biology definition of “function” would respond that intervention is impermissible in both Case 1 and Case 2 because no system is (yet) malfunctioning. They would likely answer that intervention is permissible in Case 3 because some element of the delusional person’s psychological or physical systems is malfunctioning. These responses are the exact inverse of our intuitive responses. A constructivist based in a community similar to the one at Brown would respond that intervention is permissible in Cases 1 and 3 and not in Case 2. In Case 1, we value the condition of being pre-diabetic as undesirable. In Case 2, while we do not necessarily value the state of someone who has an unwanted pregnancy, we certainly do not pathologize the state as a disease. In Case 3, we generally see hallucinations and delusions as unacceptable. An instrumentalist would most closely align with our intuitions. They would likely respond that intervention is permissible in Case 1, assuming the person has some goals that would be more attainable if he were not diabetic. They would certainly respond that intervention is acceptable in Case 2 because we can conclude from the fact that the person is seeking an abortion that they have goals that would better be accomplished if they were not pregnant. The answer to Case 3 would depend on whether the instrumentalist subscribed to the Richman-Budson theory. If they accepted it, they would say that intervention is permissible because if the person had perfect knowledge of themselves, they would most likely have goals that would be better attained if their delusions and hallucinations stopped. If the instrumentalist accepted a more basic idea of instrumentalism where health is indexed to an individual’s actual desires, then they would claim that intervention is impermissible because the person does not have any occurrent goals that are better achieved by the cessation of their delusions. Independent of its comparison to the theories of disease, there are other reasons to adopt the “wants help” approach to intervention. By focusing on whether or not someone wants help, we are zeroing in on the normatively useful part of the much wider question of whether or not someone is in a diseased state. That is to say, when we ask whether or not someone has a disease in the context of deciding whether or not it is ethical to intervene, what we are really asking is whether or not they need help. Additionally, the theory is more humane and less pathologizing and paternalistic. It focuses on the individual and their self-determination, rather than a particular diagnosis, and it assumes that most people can properly practice their right to bodily autonomy most of the time. Shortcomings and areas of further investigation In this paper, I have laid out a new way of determining whether or not it is permissible to intervene in certain conditions, and there, of course, are major shortcomings of this theory. Some of them can be patched up, but most will require substantial consideration and reworking of the theory. The first potential problem is that if we keep the vague definition of “wants help” that makes paternalistic, value-laden ideas of “normal” and “healthy” unnecessary, we have to accept that some degree of “enhancement” (genetic, pharmaceutical, etc.) is morally permissible. If the agent finds their current situation troubling and wants an intervention that would help them, assuming that they understand the side effects, this theory would permit the intervention. This may be an acceptable conclusion, though, because the “wants help” question would be asked in a clinical setting and would not overrule any external rules or laws. So for example, a “neurotypical” person could not get a cognitive enhancer like Adderall for their SAT because it is against the rules of the College Board, but they could maybe get a prescription to keep themselves focused during a grueling day-long interview at a tech company. Another more serious problem is that our intuition about who needs help can sometimes differ from who actually wants help. Admittedly, there are significant benefits of posing the question as whether someone wants help, rather than whether someone needs help. It solves the problem of having to determine what it means for someone to need help, and it centers the agent’s autonomy and self-determination. However, someone who we may intuitively think “needs help” may not “want help.” The theory is threatened when we question someone’s ability to decide whether or not they need help. There are four types of cases in which we might think the agent lacks the ability to make these decisions: Someone who had the ability and lost it (e.g. someone with dementia) Someone who never had the ability (e.g. someone with a rare genetic disorder) Someone who may have the ability in the future but lacks it now (e.g. very young children) Someone who may be a reliable decision-maker but cannot communicate it (e.g. someone in a coma) When faced with these situations, we have two possible options. We could try to determine whether the person (or some proxy for them) wants help for themselves, or we could appeal to an idea of who “needs” help. In the first case, we have a reference of who the person was before they lost this ability, and they may even have a written account of what they want. Even though this is unlikely to answer the specific question of whether they want help in that moment, it may serve as a guide. The problem with trying to use what someone expressed in a previous state is that desires and values can change. Someone who we may not think can properly exercise their right to bodily autonomy due to illness may still be able to express feelings about whether or not they want help. The occurrent views may differ from those that they expressed in the past. In these situations, it is not necessarily clear which account to use. In the second, third, and fourth cases it seems reasonable to use a surrogate, ideally someone who has the agent’s best interests at heart and who we have reason to believe would make similar decisions to the agent if the agent had the ability (i.e. people in their normative community, family members, etc.). We could then base our action on whether the surrogate wants help for the agent. The benefit of this solution is that it resists a didactic idea of who “needs” help and places the responsibility as close to the agent as possible. On the other hand, there is no way of knowing who really has someone’s best interests at heart, and it opens up too much room for variation between what a surrogate wants and what the agent would have wanted in a counterfactual in which they could express whether or not they want help. Using a surrogate in the third case of the young child introduces new problems. The agent will actually regain the ability to express whether or not they want help, so having someone else make that determination for them is riskier because both the surrogate and the clinician are more accountable to the agent than in the first or second cases. On top of the accountability, it is difficult to determine whether an agent can exercise their bodily rights. With children especially, there is disagreement about what rights children at various developmental stages can exercise, and there is contentious literature to match.[17] ,[18] ,[19] How much bodily autonomy children, and particularly adolescents have, varies greatly across cultures and even across philosophical theories within cultures. Using a surrogate in the fourth case of the person in a coma introduces even more problems. In this case, a clinician would be overruling someone’s occurrent wants, even if they were to make the decision to intervene or not intervene that corresponded to the person’s wanting or not wanting help. Despite the fact that we have no access to them, there is something intuitively troubling about this. This new approach of asking whether or not an agent wants help and making a decision based on that information has advantages over appealing to a conceptual analysis of disease. The question of wanting help cuts straight to the normative question without being caught up in categorical issues and it aligns better with our intuitions. However, the theory has some structural problems, and it cannot account for any situation in which it is not clear what someone wants or in which we have reservations about what they want. Not only that, but fitting the theory into clinical practice would be difficult, if not impossible. Before we can consider what the theory would look like in practice, we must develop a coherent response to the situations in which what the person wants differs from what we think the person ought to have. Endnotes [1] Preamble to the Constitution of WHO as adopted by the International Health Conference, New York, 19 June - 22 July 1946; signed on 22 July 1946 by the representatives of 61 States (Official Records of WHO, no. 2, p. 100) and entered into force on 7 April 1948. [2] I mean “normative” in the sense of prescribing a specific state as “normal,” as opposed to “normative” in the sense of prescribing a specific course of action. [3] Murphy, Dominic. Psychiatry In the Scientific Image. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2012. [4] Boorse, Christopher. “On The Distinction Between Disease and Illness.” Philosophy and Public Affairs 58, no. 45 (1975): 49–68. [5] Kingma, Elselijn. "What Is It to Be Healthy?" Analysis 67, no. 2 (2007): 128-33. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25597789. [6] Kingma, Elselijn. “Paracetamol, Poison, and Polio: Why Boorse's Account of Function Fails to Distinguish Health and Disease.” Br J Philos Sci 61, no. 2 (2010): 241-264. [7] Gaines, A.D. “From DSM-I to III-R; Voices of Self, Mastery and the Other: A Cultural Constructivist Reading of U.S. Psychiatric Classification.” Social Science & Medicine 35, no. 1 (1992): 3-24. [8] Reznek, L., 1987. The Nature of Disease, New York: Routledge. [9] Murphy, Dominic. "Concepts of Disease and Health." Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Spring 2015. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/health-disease/ . [10] Conrad, Peter. The Medicalization of Society: On the Transformation of Human Conditions into Treatable Disorders. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007. [11] "Concepts of Disease and Health." [12] Richard, Kenneth A. and Budson, Andrew .E. “Health of Organisms and Health of Persons: An Embedded Instrumentalist Approach.” Theoretical Medicine and Bioethics 339, no. 21 (2000). [13] "Contraceptive Use in the United States." Guttmacher Institute. September 23, 2016. https://www.guttmacher.org/fact-sheet/contraceptive-use-united-states . [14] Harris, John. Enhancing evolution. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010. [15] Hesslow, Germund. “Do We Need a Concept of Disease?” Theoretical Medicine and Bioethics 14, no. 1 (1993). [16] "Defining ‘Health’ and ‘Disease’." [17] Diekema, Douglas S., M.D., M.P.H. "Parental Decision Making." Parental Decision Making: Ethical Topic in Medicine. 2014. https://depts.washington.edu/bioethx/topics/parent.html [18] Worthington, Roger. “Standards of Healthcare and Respecting Children’s Rights.” Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine 99, no. 4 (2006): 208–210. [19] Ruccione, Kathy; Kramer, Robin; Moore, Ida K; Perin, Gail. “Informed Consent for Treatment of Childhood Cancer: Factors Affecting Parents' Decision Making .” Journal of Pediatric Oncology Nursing 8, no. 3 (1991): 112-121.

Respect for the Smallest of Creatures An Analysis of Human Respect for and Protection of Insects Grace Engelman Brown University Author Nidhi Bhaskar Zoe Zacharopoulos Nicole Tsung Naima Okami Nicole Fegan Editors Fall 2019 Download full text PDF (19 pages) Abstract: Humans have a complicated relationship with insects. Fearing them, we are quick to kill spiders and stomp on ants. Benefitting from them, we raise honeybees and silkworms and use their products for our enjoyment. Depending on them, we try to save bee populations, realizing that many of our food sources would be lost if bees died out. My goal in this paper is to find ways to justify respecting and protecting insects. They have been systematically excluded from animal rights theories because we tend to believe that they lack sentience, the main criterion used to extend rights to nonhumans. As I will argue, the sentience criterion relies on anthropocentric thinking about the ways that animals experience the world. Choosing an alternative to the sentience criterion—one that does not rely on commonalities between insects and humans—is a necessary step in finding a motivation for respecting insects. I will test two approaches to respecting insects—one that involves granting them rights and another that requires thinking of them as possessing inherent worth. Then, I will use my analysis of insects to answer some broader questions in environmental political theory. Mainly, what is the basis for respecting nature even when it does not directly benefit us? Finding a way to respect the creatures that we consider the most difficult to live alongside and relate to serves as a useful test for determining the limits and scope of our respect for nature. "If all mankind were to disappear, the world would regenerate back to the rich state of equilibrium that existed ten thousand years ago. If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos." -E.O. Wilson Insect populations have declined rapidly in the last twenty years, and no one seems to care. As we gain more knowledge about the disappearance of insect species, some scientists and media outlets have publicized the news of a climate change-driven insect decline. But the vast majority of us remain unaware of the importance and vulnerability of the insect world. Given the abundance and variety of insects, it may seem as though the loss of certain species is insignificant. And yet, the complex web of life suggests otherwise. Almost every type of insect interacts with plant and animal species, providing necessary food, pollination, or fertile soil. These small creatures maintain life. Despite their importance, insects have been systematically excluded from theories of animal rights. We often fail to recognize in insects the qualities—such as sentience or the ability to feel pain—that we use to establish the rights of other animals. Our ignorance of insect sentience stems from the practical difficulty of studying their tiny nervous systems, along with an evolutionarily ancient aversion that creates barriers to understanding and relating to them. This failure to connect with insects often leads us to think of their death and suffering as insignificant. My goal in this paper is to analyze how we should interact with insects and find ways to justify respecting and protecting them. Overcoming the instinctual fear and repulsion many of us feel for these creatures is a necessary aspect of any proposal for respecting insects. Additionally, approaches to insect protection require adopting ecocentric views of conservation. Usually, arguments for protecting insects rely on their benefit to us. Many people care about saving bees, for example, because they pollinate plants that we eat. But given some of the shortcomings of anthropocentric approaches, it is necessary to think of alternative theories that guide us to respect insects apart from their relation to us. Finally, our consideration of insects challenges some of the criteria that we often use to extend rights and consideration to nonhuman animals. As I will argue, the popular sentience criterion relies on anthropocentric thinking about the ways that animals experience the world. Choosing an alternative to the sentience criterion—one that does not depend on commonalities between insects and humans—is another necessary step in finding a motivation for respecting insects. In sum, I will argue that respecting insects requires overcoming stigma, adopting an ecocentric approach, and abandoning the sentience criterion. After describing our current relationship to insects and their importance to various ecosystems, I will test two approaches to respecting insects—one that involves granting them rights and another that entails thinking of them as possessing inherent worth. I will assess each theory in terms of its treatment of stigma, ecocentrism, and the sentience criterion. Finally, I will discuss some of the implications of our treatment of insects for broader questions in environmental political theory. I. Our Relationship With Insects We use insects for a variety of purposes. In labs, scientists experiment on fruit flies to study ageing, genetics, human disease, and countless other topics. In gardens and on farms, we depend on bees and butterflies for the pollination of crops and flowers. It would not be possible to produce silk fabric and clothing without the labor of silkworms, nor would it be possible to break down soil or compost materials without various flies and maggots. Some people eat high-protein insects such as crickets and grasshoppers, and claim that entomophagy, or bug-eating, will become a necessity in the future as other food sources run out. Despite our dependence on and benefit from a wide range of insects, we tend to respond to them with fear or repulsion. Our nicknames for bugs—"creepy-crawlies and pests"—capture this attitude. Part of our aversion may stem from our negative associations with insects and the harm they cause. Ticks, mosquitoes, and other insects carry diseases such as Lyme, the Zika virus, and malaria. Parasites, including lice and bed bugs, encroach on our personal space and threaten the sanctity of our homes and bodies. Various types of locusts, worms, and beetles damage crops, threatening the livelihoods of farmers and those who rely on them for food. In contrast, the vast majority of insects neither pose a direct threat to us nor even benefit us in some way. And yet, our aversion to harmful insects usually extends to all insects. Many people are quick to kill the ants, spiders, and flies that appear in their homes, even when these insects pose no immediate threat. The ease with which we kill these insects stems from our fear (phobias of spiders, for example, are fairly common) and from our inability to relate to them. Perhaps we fail to connect with them because of their divergence from mammalian bodies—their wings, shells, and antennae contrast with the appendages of more familiar animals. Insects' size and abundance also seem to play a role in our tendency to discount them. How could an ant—a being as small as a crumb—possibly matter, especially when there are millions more of them? Most of all, it is difficult for us to recognize sentience in insects—the main attribute used to determine the degree to which an animal can be likened to humans. Our simultaneous dependence on and inability to relate to insects merge to form our complicated relationship with them. II. The Necessity of Insects What would the world look like without insects? Not only do insects benefit us in certain ways, but they also serve a vital role in ecosystems more generally. The naturalist E.O. Wilson refers to insects as "the little things that run the natural world." Though we are often unaware of their presence and necessity, their disappearance would spark a cascade of additional extinctions. Vital to the food chain, insects serve as a food source for most bird and fish species. Plants also benefit from insects in numerous ways, mainly through enhanced soil quality and pollination. Some plants depend on specific bee species for pollination, and some bee species can only acquire food from certain types of plants. This symbiotic relationship entails that when either partner—plant or insect—becomes endangered, the other suffers as well. Climate change has caused a massive decline in insect populations that humans are only just beginning to quantify and analyze. Given the size and abundance of insect species, it is difficult to track their decline. Additionally, there are millions of species that humans have never studied or counted before. But recent experiments that involve catching and recording large quantities of insects in certain areas have demonstrated that their numbers are declining quickly. For example, researchers studied arthropod populations in Puerto Rico's Luquillo rainforest between 1976 and 2012, a period in which maximum climate temperatures increased by two degrees Celsius. The decline of the arthropods mirrored a loss of lizard, frog, and bird species in the same forest. As the authors of this study write, "climate warming is the major driver of reductions in arthropod abundance," and leads to the "collapse of the forest food web." The decline of insects has caused a similar cascading effect in other parts of the world as well. Pollinators of all types (mainly bee and butterfly species) are declining at an unprecedented rate. Many native bee species in New England have become endangered due to disease, pesticides, and a reduction in the plants they require for food. As the bee species go extinct, native plant species die as well, and this dual decline harms bird populations in return. As biologist and bee ecologist Robert Gegear explains, the resulting lack of biodiversity could cause gardens and fields to transform into endless, green lawns. Vibrant gardens full of plant and animal life will wither away without pollinators. III. Approaches to Respect How should we interact with these creatures which we depend on but cannot relate to? Broadly, there are two categories of approaches that we could take. First, there are anthropocentric approaches, or strategies, that frame motives for conservation around human interests. There are at least two forms of anthropocentrism: (1) viewing the world from the perspective of humans without considering the perspectives of other beings or the natural world as a whole or (2) prioritizing the interests of humans over everything else. An example of (1) would be failing to grant moral consideration to insects because they may lack consciousness, a trait we sometimes use to determine whether we should extend moral rights or standing to other beings. As conscious animals ourselves, we often believe that consciousness is a key feature of a being that is "advanced enough" to receive our consideration. There are multiple examples of (2) in relation to insects. Some people believe that we should protect insects because they contribute to biodiversity, making the world more aesthetically pleasing to us. On a more drastic scale, some people argue that we should protect insects because ecosystems will collapse and we will lose food sources without them. One of the main dangers of anthropocentric thinking is that it leads us to exclude from our consideration the aspects of nature that do not (as far as we know) directly benefit us. This exclusion entails that we should not attempt to avert the suffering or extinction of plant and animal species that we have not decided benefit us in some way. Ironically, this exclusion fails to achieve the goals of anthropocentrism: it is likely that, due to our limited knowledge of nature and ecosystems, we will fail to save a species that we need. Given the complex web of organisms that makes up the natural world, it is not possible to foresee all of the consequences of failing to respect and protect a particular species. Additionally, this anthropocentric approach to conservation is dangerous in the sense that it could easily lead to more environmental harm in the future. As biologist Jeffrey Lockwood acknowledges, it was an anthropocentric view that "created the environmental problems confronting us today." Even if we could successfully use anthropocentrism and our fear of human extinction to motivate ourselves to reverse the trends of climate change, our lingering dominance over nature and prioritization of our immediate interests will lead to additional environmental problems in the future. A more radical shift in our relationship with nature is necessary to ensure lasting, positive change. Anthropocentric views contrast with ecocentric approaches to conservation, or approaches that take into account the needs and interests of beings besides humans by treating nature as an end in itself. An example of an ecocentric approach to conservation is arguing for the protection of a species of bees not because that species is necessary for human food sources or enjoyment, but simply because the bees matter inherently. When considering ways to interact with insects, we should prioritize ecocentric approaches over anthropocentric approaches, given the pitfalls of anthropocentrism. An ecocentric approach to interacting with insects involves some form of respect for insects and a motive for their protection beyond their relation to us. If insects are inherently valuable, then we owe them respect and should care about their interests. Theories of respect guide our actions and the way we treat other beings. For centuries, Western political theory framed humans as the only creatures deserving of respect. For example, the Kantian theory of respect features humans as the only rational beings, and thus the only entities that we should treat as ends in themselves. But this theory of respect entails that nonhumans can be exploited for the benefit of rational beings. The theories that I will analyze call into question this assumption, and provide us with alternative grounds for respecting nonhuman animals and aspects of nature. A) Insects as Citizens, Denizens, and Sovereigns One approach to respecting insects is to grant them rights. There are many different types of rights, including moral rights, legal rights, civil rights, and political rights. It may benefit insects and elevate their standing to extend some of these rights and protections to them. In their book Zoopolis , Sue Donaldson and Will Kymlicka propose a model for animal rights that ensures that animals' "basic interests cannot be sacrificed for the greater good of others." Even though Donaldson and Kymlicka label these rights "inviolable," they also acknowledge that there are situations in which these rights are not "absolute or unconditional," including when animals harm or threaten to harm humans. By centering animal rights in political theory, Donaldson and Kymlicka demonstrate ways to integrate animals into our existing models of citizenship and sovereignty. One of their strategies is to separate animals into three broad categories based on our levels of interaction with them: domesticated, liminal, and wild animals. Domesticated animals such as dogs, pigs, and chickens are oppressed in many ways; they are held in captivity, their labor is exploited, and some of them are killed and eaten on a daily basis. Donaldson and Kymlicka argue that, because we have integrated these animals into our society, we have certain obligations to them—mainly to listen to and interpret their interests and needs. The best way to reverse their oppression and ensure that their needs are met is to grant them full citizenship rights. Using comparisons to children and mentally disabled people, Donaldson and Kymlicka argue that humans can extend assistance and representation to animals by noticing their interests and then communicating them to the rest of society. Nonhuman animals are capable of communicating to us in nonverbal ways, and with the support of human companions, these expressions of their interests can be translated into the political system. Based on this citizenship theory of the rights of domesticated animals, humans should not harm them or exploit them for food or labor. Donaldson and Kymlicka argue that liminal animals should be allowed to live near and around us without subjection to extermination or harm. Even though they are not granted the rights of full citizens, they are still guaranteed the right to not be harmed and the right to have their interests included in decision-making and urban planning. Additionally, fully wild animals are granted rights to be protected from human destruction of their habitats. As sovereign beings, they are members of their own communities that humans cannot disrupt or harm. Their needs must be taken into account any time that humans build on or otherwise disrupt the land they inhabit. According to Donaldson and Kymlicka, the basis for granting these rights to animals is their sentience, which "has distinct moral significance because it enables a subjective experience of the world." Sentient creatures possess interests and goals; in other words, they "care about how their lives go." Based on this theory of animal rights, the possession of interests differentiates certain animals from rocks or trees. Though there may be reasons to protect and care about forests, we do not need to grant forests inviolable rights because trees are not sentient. When we look at them, we do not feel as though there is "someone home," or a person there. Thus, we only have obligations towards animals with subjective experiences of the world. If we apply this animal rights model to insects, then it is necessary to determine whether insects are sentient. Donaldson and Kymlicka explicitly exclude insects from their analysis, explaining that current evidence and scientific analysis suggests that insects are not sentient. Thus, insects are not granted inviolable rights or included in our conceptions of citizens, denizens, or sovereign beings. As Lockwood proposes, however, insects are more intelligent and aware than we might think, and our tendency to think of insects as "genetically programmed robots" has contaminated our ability to consider their sentience. In contrast with the view of insect sentience that Donaldson and Kymlicka propose, there exists evidence that suggests that insects can experience pain, form relationships, and solve problems. Testing whether a being has a subjective experience of the world is not a simple task; there is no standard set of attributes that determine sentience. To solve this issue, we can rely on some of the common criteria for sentience including consciousness, awareness, the capacity to feel pain, the ability to communicate, and the potential to problem-solve. Based on many definitions of sentience, if a living being possesses one or more of these attributes, we can regard it as sentient. Many scientists suggest that, at a bare minimum, insects have interests. For example, they try to avoid painful stimuli, including dangerous temperature changes, toxic chemicals, and electrical shock. They also writhe in response to pesticides, and they try to escape if they are physically restrained. It is possible that insects do not feel pain in response to these stimuli (pain is subjective, and therefore difficult to study in other beings). However, multiple studies indicate that insects can experience some form of visceral pain. It is also possible that insects communicate with each other. For example, honeybees use "an elaborate form of symbolic communication" or the "dance language" to share information on the "distance, direction, and desirability" of food sources and nesting sites. If, as this research suggests, insects possess the capacity for language, pain, and awareness, then they meet some of the criteria for sentience. Humans, however, tend to find it difficult to accept this conclusion. Regardless of our scientific advances in studying insect behavior and nervous systems, we remain quite removed from the insect world. No matter what we learn about insects, they are still (at least for most of us) difficult to relate to. Once again, the size of insects becomes a barrier to understanding them. It is difficult to imagine that such a small creature could have a complex enough nervous system to possess any criteria for sentience. Additionally, we may find it difficult to believe that insects are sentient because we tend to study pain, consciousness, awareness, and language in vertebrate animals. Many of our tests for sentience, for example, rely on verbal language or other human-centered ways of thinking about sentience. In order to adequately study insect sentience, we need to develop ways to test for consciousness and awareness that do not depend on our understanding of language. As Gegear explains, studying insect behavior and consciousness is akin to "studying a group of people where you don't know the language." In his book How Forests Think , Eduardo Kohn presents us with ways to think about human-insect communication. Based on observations of the rainforest in Ecuador's Upper Amazon as well as the people who live there (the Runa), Kohn suggests that "seeing, representing, and perhaps knowing, even thinking, are not exclusively human affairs." Kohn develops an expanded and flexible definition of selfhood; according to him, anything that interprets or represents the world in some way possesses a form of selfhood. For example, as flying ants in the rainforest relate to the environment and the beings around them in a certain way, he would argue they possess selfhood. One feature of their selfhood is their ability to communicate with other animals and to behave in a manner dependent on factors in the external world. Humans enjoy eating these flying ants, and are able to predict when the ants will emerge from the ground by paying attention to various signs from nature. These predictions are the result of "treating ants as the intentional communicating selves they are." The humans in this example use this form of communication to interact with the insects by hunting and eating them. It would not be possible to predict the ants' flight without implicitly acknowledging the ways that they understand and react to the world. With this example, Kohn demonstrates that in paying attention to and understanding the interests of insects, communication with them is possible. If we take all of these examples to suggest that insects have some form of sentience, then we can apply the Zoopolis theory to them. There are not many domesticated insects, but honeybees and silkworms would be extended full citizenship rights. Liminal animals such as spiders and ants would be denizens, and insects that live exclusively in the wild (the vast majority of them) would be sovereign beings. The rights of each of these groups may entail that we must avoid "unnecessary or insensitive handling or restraint" and refrain from killing them. Additionally, we could not use them as a food source or exploit them for their labor. The purpose of this paper is not to compile a comprehensive list of the rights of insects under this model, but rather to suggest that we could extend to them the rights of citizens, denizens, and sovereigns. Although it is possible to use the Zoopolis model to grant rights and protections to insects, this approach has two major shortcomings. The first involves barriers to communicating with and relating to insects. Based on this theory, taking into account the interests and needs of nonhuman animals requires crossing an inter-species communication barrier. As Kohn and Gegear argue (from an anthropological and biological view, respectively), insects are capable of communication. However, learning how to predict insect flight or studying insect behavior in a lab does not necessarily entail a full understanding of insects' interests. Donaldson and Kymlicka propose relying on humans to represent their animal companions in the political sphere. But do there exist willing and adequate human translators for insects? It is useful to consider as candidates the human members of our society who appear to know the most about insects. One group of candidates includes the farmers and gardeners who rely on certain species of insects for the pollination of crops and flowers. Their intimacy with plant life includes their knowledge of insect biology and behavior. Despite their reliance on (and perhaps respect for) pollinators, earthworms, and other "beneficial insects," many farmers and gardeners also engage in a constant battle with the insects that sabotage their plants. A farmer who cares about saving bee populations may simultaneously kill potato beetles, locusts, or other insects that damage crops. Although there may exist some exceptions, it seems as though most farmers and gardeners only engage with insects so far as they benefit or hurt plants, which is not an adequate foundation to build the type of relationship or companionship required for use of the Zoopolis theory. The Runa and other people who eat insects relate to them in a similar way. While they may learn a great deal about insects in order to predict their movements or learn how to raise them, the ultimate goal of their interactions is to hunt and eat the insects. It is important to note that eating insects does not necessarily entail a lack of respect for them. It may be necessary or justifiable in some situations to use insects as a food source. However, if the only goal of one's interactions with insects is to eat them, then the insects are used as a means to assuage human hunger; in other words, the insect serves a purpose for the human. Given the nature of this interaction, a person who eats insects is not in an ideal position to advocate for the insects' interests. Another group of humans who interact with insects frequently are entomologists and other scientists who study insects. Although these scientists may possess the best understanding of the biological mechanisms behind possible insect sentience, their scientific knowledge does not entail respect or a willingness to translate the needs of insects to the rest of society. In fact, many scientists who study insects keep them confined in tanks and cages for long periods of time and expose them to painful stimuli. Analyzing these various human-insect relationships reveals that, at least at present, it would be difficult to find adequate human representatives for the insect world. Even if it is possible to find some willing and knowledgeable humans, it is doubtful that there are enough of them to sufficiently represent the vast number of insect species that we interact with. There are far fewer domesticated animals in the world than there are insects, so domesticated animals are easier to accurately represent. However, it may be possible to overcome these difficulties by focusing our attention on a few of the species that we interact with most frequently or tend to exploit for resources and labor, such as honeybees and silkworms. The most significant barrier to finding human translators is the stigma associated with insects. Donaldson and Kymlicka write that "most humans come to understand and care for animals by having a relationship with them—observing them, hanging out with them, caring for them, loving and being loved by them." But we do not tend to think of people as "loving" insects or developing caring relationships with them. Because of our difficulty relating to them, which often takes the form of fear or disgust, our relationships with insects are not comparable to our interactions with dogs, cats, and other domesticated animals. This stigma against insects may begin to fade away. It is possible that, with more research on invertebrate nervous systems, we will gain enough knowledge of insect sentience to be able to relate to them. This scientific knowledge, however, may not succeed in helping us overcome the instincts that have led us to fear insects for centuries. Additionally, even if our view of insects changes, and we find a way to relate to them, it will only be because we recognize in them something that resembles us. A major flaw with our theories of respect is that each time we grant it to other creatures, it is often only because we see ourselves and aspects of our humanity in them. Even with enough research, it is possible that insects will never be considered similar enough to us to be included in this group. Therefore, we must overcome our dependence on relatability as a necessary criterion for respect. This shift in justification is a fundamental first step towards learning how to interact with insects in a more respectful way. The version of animal rights theory that Donaldson and Kymlicka articulate offers us no way to move beyond our narrow focus on resemblance as a basis for respect. The second problem with using the Zoopolis theory as the model for our treatment of insects is that, despite the extensive rights it grants to animals, it remains a fundamentally anthropocentric approach. The citizenship and sovereignty model that Donaldson and Kymlicka propose depends on existing political structures and concepts. As Donaldson and Kymlicka explain, "for many legal and political purposes, advancing an animal rights agenda will require using the pre-existing language of persons and extending it to animals." This dependence on human-designed models means that treating animals like citizens and sovereigns entails bringing them into a political landscape that was developed with humans in mind. The categories of citizen, denizen, and sovereign reflect language and political theory that is familiar only to humans. Thus, animals might be forced into a system that they ultimately cannot consent to, and that hinges on philosophical and moral principles that are inaccessible to them. To extend the human concepts of law, rights, and citizenship to animals entails viewing our relationship with them through an anthropocentric lens. Additionally, this theory's dependence on the concept of sentience allows the exclusion of many beings, including insects (at least until more scientific research is conducted and accepted). Humans have decided that sentience is a criterion for moral considerability because a subjective experience of the world is a core feature of humanity. Thus, when we recognize sentience in other animals, we begin to care about them as well. Donaldson and Kymlicka acknowledge that moral theories often fall into this anthropocentric trap by taking "humanity as [their] standard." Based on an anthropocentric view, animals "achieve moral standing only if they can be seen as possessing or approximating some aspect of [the] essence of humanity." Donaldson and Kymlicka believe that their theory avoids this trap by focusing on the protection of vulnerable beings rather than the protection of beings that relate to humans. Possessing sentience is a form of vulnerability because a being with sentience possesses interests that can be unfulfilled or harmed. But this response fails to demonstrate why the Zoopolis theory is not anthropocentric. Instead, it replaces sentience (an anthropocentric criterion for moral considerability) with another criterion that is equally anthropocentric: vulnerability. A human understanding of vulnerability suggests that a being must be sentient to have interests or be harmed. Again, this view of vulnerability is based on our own experiences of the world and fails to take into account the experiences or perspectives of other living beings. Thus, focusing on vulnerability does not demonstrate that this version of animal rights theory avoids anthropocentrism. B) Respecting Nature Another approach to understanding the way we should interact with insects is to rely on ecocentric views of their worth. In his article "The Ethics of Respect for Nature," philosopher Paul Taylor presents us with an alternative to anthropocentric environmental ethics. Taylor argues that we have moral obligations to plants and animals to "protect or promote their good for their sake." These moral obligations include respecting the "integrity of natural ecosystems," saving endangered species, and minimizing environmental pollution. The reason we should care about the well-being and survival of plant and animal species is that each living thing possesses an "inherent worth" and a "good," or well-being. In contrast with theories that depend on sentience as a criterion, Taylor's theory relies instead on these two features of living beings. According to Taylor, "every organism, species population, and community of life has a good of its own which moral agents can intentionally further or damage by their actions." Humans, plants, insects, and other animals all possess interests that can be protected or harmed (notice that inanimate objects such as rocks do not fall into this category). Generally, these interests include staying "strong and healthy." Thus, even if a plant is not necessarily aware of being harmed or benefited, it can still be injured or helped in certain ways. The second main feature of Taylor's argument is that all living things possess inherent worth. Part of this inherent worth stems from the fact that living things deserve moral consideration as "members of the Earth's community of life." Granting all living beings moral consideration does not mean that they possess inviolable rights; it only entails that every living being must be considered when making decisions. Establishing the inherent worth of living things also involves considering it "intrinsically valuable" to protect the interests of living things whenever possible. Taylor argues that granting each living being inherent worth and moral considerability allows us to develop a certain attitude towards all of nature that he labels "respect for nature." Taylor's theory accounts for some of the shortcomings with the Zoopolis theory. The respect for nature that he articulates does not entail granting consideration to living things based on their similarities to humans. For example, consciousness is not a necessary criterion for moral considerability. Rather, we begin to respect each living thing simply because it possesses intrinsic value. This theory allows us to transition away from the sentience criterion and other human-centric criteria for respect. Additionally, and more broadly, Taylor's theory outlines an ecocentric approach to respecting nature. When applied to insects, his theory entails that we should respect them because we understand that they possess a good and inherent worth. Thus, we are obligated to respect their interests by refraining from harming them, and we need to take into account their interests when interacting with them or making decisions that influence them. C) The Limits of our Respect How might we decide which species' well-being to prioritize when those interests come into direct conflict? The main problem with Taylor's theory is that he does not articulate the limits of our respect for insects or other aspects of nature. If we adopt Taylor's theory, then we must treat all living beings with equal respect. How then, can we determine whether and how to prioritize our interests above the interests of insects? This account of respect cannot effectively guide us in situations in which insects pose a threat to our wellbeing or survival. There are many situations in which it might be necessary to harm or kill an insect (or insects) in order to protect ourselves or others. In Zoopolis , Donaldson and Kymlicka present us with a way to think about potential conflicts between our rights and those of animals. Their solution to the human-animal conflict of interests is to apply what Rawls refers to as the "circumstance of justice." This principle, based on Hume's statement that "ought implies can," suggests that "humans only owe justice to each other when they are in fact able to respect each other's rights without jeopardizing their own existence." Thus, justice only applies in certain situations—when one's life is not at stake. If a mosquito that is likely to carry a disease is biting us, we are justified in killing it given that it has the potential to kill us. Our relationships with insects may also change over time. An insect that currently poses no threat may evolve to carry a fatal disease, changing the circumstances of justice. Thus, "assessing and sustaining the circumstances of justice is...an ongoing task." Another approach to recognizing the limits of our respect for or protection of insects is to "shift the burden of proof" onto humans. Lockwood establishes the moral considerability of insects by arguing (like Taylor) that they possess certain interests that can be harmed or helped by humans. Based on this moral considerability, Lockwood proposes a minimum ethic for our treatment of insects: We ought to refrain from actions which may be reasonably expected to kill or cause nontrivial pain in insects when avoiding these actions has no, or only trivial, costs to our own welfare. Lockwood describes a circumstance of justice; so long as insects pose no threat to our well-being, we should not kill or harm them in any way. This minimum ethic places the burden on humans to demonstrate the necessity of harming an insect before acting. Notice that this minimum ethic fails to grant any positive rights or protections to insects—it does not show us how we should help or protect insects in ways that exceed simply avoiding directly harming them. Instead, it demonstrates a baseline of respect for insects: it is not morally justifiable to kill an insect for no reason. These theories give different accounts of the type of situations in which we can justifiably harm insects. Donaldson and Kymlicka measure insects' threat to human existence, while Lockwood draws our attention to insects' threat to human welfare more generally. Lockwood's articulation of the limits to our respect is a more useful and practical approach. With their theory, Donaldson and Kymlicka ignore the fact that humans possess interests other than survival. Our health and happiness, for example, are additional human interests that may weigh into our decisions about how to treat insects. Lockwood presents us with a way to integrate some of our other interests besides survival into our consideration of human-insect conflict. Although Lockwood's theory provides us with a more useful account of the limits of our respect, it also complicates our decisions. When we expand our list of relevant human interests past survival, it becomes more difficult to measure them and to use them in decision-making. Determining whether an insect will kill us is more straightforward than determining the degree to which an insect will affect our quality of life or overall health. If one has a choice between eating insects or dying of starvation, the decision they should make is clearer than deciding whether to endure hunger for a short period or eat insects. Lockwood offers us no limit on the types of interests that we can take into account when prioritizing our wellbeing. He acknowledges that "the control of insects to prevent cosmetic damage" to crops is not justified by his minimum ethic. Additionally, he explains that major threats to our health justify harming insects. But many cases, including the consumption of insects as food, do not clearly fit into the categories of cosmetic harm or serious health threat. Thus, Lockwood's minimum ethic fails to offer us guidelines for navigating these more nebulous conflicts of interest. IV. Humans and Nature The current dominant approach to protecting insects is to articulate their benefit for humans. People might rally to save honeybees because of our reliance on their labor or our enjoyment of their honey. Similarly, people might feel motivated to protect insects in order to save certain plant or bird species they like. In each situation, the desire to protect insects stems from our needs and interests. Even when humans discuss the protection of insects in the context of climate change, their goals remain anthropocentric. A negative consequence of adopting anthropocentric views is that we tend to anthropomorphize nature. It is only when we believe we have recognized a "human" aspect of an animal (or plant) that we begin to view it as deserving of our moral consideration. But this approach to respecting nature fails to extend respect and protection to multiple nonhuman animals and plants, including insects. Until recently, we have assumed that insects are mere robots without any sort of consciousness or feelings. And even with the advent of promising research into the subject, we are not confident that insects are sentient. Our requirement that “respectable” creatures must fulfill a sentience criterion has led us to invest an insufficient amount of resources and energy into protecting insect species that are now endangered or extinct. The great insect decline of the last twenty years is a sobering reminder of the consequences of that perspective. Understanding the shortcomings of the sentience criterion leads us to understand that, more broadly, we cannot pick and choose the aspects of nature we want to respect. Each individual organism, plant and animal species, and community should be afforded the same baseline respect in terms of moral consideration. Even if there are reasons to prioritize one species' interests over the interests of another species, we must, at a minimum, consider the interests of all affected creatures before acting. We should not base our moral consideration of nature on arbitrary principles such as sentience. Nor should we base our moral consideration on the degree to which we fear or avoid certain species such as insects. Fear and a lack of understanding or relatability should not entail disrespect. To gain our respect and protection, it is enough just to exist. Taylor's theory encapsulates this message and offers us an ecocentric approach to respecting insects and nature more broadly. Adopting his theory would allow us to abandon the sentience criterion and respect insects even when we cannot find an aspect of resemblance or similarity between them and us. However, Taylor's theory leaves us with unanswered questions about how to balance our interests with the interests of nature, and how to determine the situations in which we can use insects for certain purposes. It is necessary, therefore, to piece together aspects of Taylor's theory with other theories that outline methods for weighing our interests against those of insects. Using Taylor's theory, we can think of our respect for insects as independent of the sentience criterion, and we can find inherent value in their existence. If we also draw upon Lockwood's minimum ethic, we can describe some of the situations in which it may be necessary to harm or kill insects, and we can find the justification for prioritizing our interests when our welfare is at risk. This blend of theories requires us to take into account the interests of insects and consider our effect on them when acting or making decisions. V. Conclusion Drawing to a conclusion our centuries-long domination of nature will require a change in our theories and our practices. In particular, it requires abandoning anthropocentric approaches to conservation. How can we convince people to adopt a more ecocentric view of nature in place of an anthropocentric one? One strategy is to acknowledge the degree to which the two approaches converge. Although their intents differ, their results may be similar. Saving the human species probably requires finding a way to protect and respect the environment so that our habitats, ecosystems, and resources are preserved. And, as I have argued, it is not possible to protect the environment without adopting a fully ecocentric approach. Thus, adopting an ecocentric view and learning to care about the environment for its inherent worth would directly benefit us and improve our chances of survival. Unfortunately, acknowledging the convergence between the two approaches seems to require an ecocentric view in the first place. If we continue to view ourselves as separate from the rest of nature, then we will not notice the myriad ways in which we are woven together with the natural world and share the same habitat and desire for survival. In contrast, if we begin to see ourselves as more connected with nature, then a clear delineation between anthropo- and ecocentric views will fade away; all efforts to care for the environment will benefit nature (which includes us). But how can we break down this barrier that we have established? For inspiration, we can look to the pollinating bee and the pollinated flower. As Gegear explains, the two beings are not individuals—rather, they are a combination, an interdependent relationship, an assemblage. Neither one can exist without the other species. The bee and the flower represent the interconnectedness essential to all ecosystems and the strength of a relationship rooted in common interest. If we similarly begin to see our interests in survival as intertwined with the interests of nature, then it will be far easier to overcome anthropocentric barriers to respecting nature. Even if some of our interests come into conflict, our ultimate interest in preserving the natural habitat that is common to all living things. We are forced to share the same space and resources. Acknowledging the areas in which our interests merge helps us to understand that we are not separate from this network of life. Even the smallest of creatures—the ants, bees, and worms of the world—depend, like us, on the health of the environment, and thus deserve our respect. Works Cited Chittka, Lars and Catherine Wilson, "Bee-brained." Aeon . November 27, 2018. Donaldson, Sue and Will Kymlicka. Zoopolis: A Political Theory of Animal Rights . New York, Oxford University Press, 2011. Interview with Robert Gegear, November 29, 2018. Jarvis, Brook. "The Insect Apocalypse is Here." The New York Times Magazine , November 27, 2018. King, Barbara J. "The Joys and Ethics of Insect Eating." NPR, April 3, 2014. Kohn, Eduardo. How Forests Think: Toward an Anthropology Beyond the Human . Berkeley, University of California Press, 2013. Lister, Bradford C. and Andres Garcia. "Climate-driven Declines in Arthropod Abundance Restructure a Rainforest Food Web." Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA , September 2018. Lockwood, Jeffrey A. "The Moral Standing of Insects and the Ethics of Extinction." The Florida Entomologist 70, no. 1, 1987, pp. 70-89. Smith, Jane A. "A Question of Pain in Invertebrates." ILAR Journal, vol. 33, no. 1-2, 1991, pp. 25-31. Taylor, Paul. "The Ethics of Respect for Nature." Environmental Ethics , vol. 3, 1981, pp. 197- 218. Wilson, E. O. The Creation: An Appeal to Save Life on Earth . New York, W.W. Norton, 2006.

Cannabis Latent Effects of Cannabis Legalization: Racial Disproportionality and Disparity in Washington State Drug Convictions, 2000-2015 Kaid Ray-Tipton University of Washington Author Danai Benopoulou Matthew Dowling Bastien Ibri Shreya Raghunandan Editors Spring 2018 Understanding if racial disparities in drug convictions decreased post the implementation of cannabis legalization in Washington state. Introduction There has been a great amount of research analyzing racial disparities in drug arrests (Beckett, Nyrop, Pfingst and Bowen, 2005; Kutateladze, Andiloro, Johnson and Spohn, 2014). Findings show that black people have disproportionate arrest rates compared to Whites. In fact, “Blacks are 3.73 times more likely than Whites to be arrested for marijuana possession” (ACLU, 2013). These statistics are surprising given that Blacks and Whites use cannabis at a comparable rate (ACLU, 2013). Hispanic communities are also impacted. Racial disparities in drug crimes in this group are harder to measure quantitatively because some agencies group Hispanic or Latinos with Whites. This causes the White conviction rate to increase, thus deflating the racial disparity present. In New York City where Latino arrest rates are available, “Latinos are arrested at 2.5 times the rates of Whites for marijuana possession” (ACLU, 2013). Richard Nixon’s declaration for the “War on Drugs” that began in the 1970’s has had many negative latent effects on communities of color and has contributed greatly to racial disproportionality in mass incarceration (Sharp, 1994). For example, “arrest for marijuana possession… accounted for nearly 80 percent of the growth in drug arrest in the 1990s” (Alexander, 2010). Images within media have reinforced the link between people of color and their involvement with drugs (Bullock, Wyche and Williams, 2001). These socially constructed depictions have influenced prejudices and stereotypes which in turn create implicit biases. These biases have been shown to have profound effects on police enforcement tactics and decision making (Levinson, 2007). Currently, police across the nation have the discretion to stop and search people under “reasonable suspicion” that an individual may be in possession of illegal drugs (Yankah, 2011). These so called “Terry” stops allow police officers to use the notion of reasonable suspicion to stop and frisk individuals (Terry v. Ohio, 392 U.S. 1, 1968). Such inquiries frequently rely on police officers’ own intuition - an intuition often affected by the aforementioned implicit biases. Scholars have suggested that this policing is not evenly distributed among neighborhoods and across socioeconomic statuses. To be more specific, racially and ethnically diverse areas may be subject to over-policing while predominantly white neighborhoods may be more likely to be under-policed (Beckett, Nyrop and Pfingst, 2006). Therefore, more police enforcement in communities of color leads to more stops and searches among people of color. These outdoor drug busts may lead to a disproportionate increase in convictions for Blacks and Hispanics. Blacks are disproportionately convicted for cannabis related offenses, which disrupts many areas of life including family, employment opportunities, housing, and well-being (Massey, 2007). It is important to note that even stops and searches that yield no results for the police may lead to continued harassment and embarrassment for members of the community due to the “War or Drugs”. Recently, cannabis has been highly debated as a substance that could be legalized for medical and/or recreational purposes (Coulkins, Kilmer, Kleiman, MacCoun, Midgette, Oglesby, Paucula and Reuter, 2015). The federal government has yet to lift the national prohibition of cannabis but many states have begun to revise their laws regarding it. There are currently 23 states and the U.S. territories of Guam and Puerto Rico that have passed laws to legalize medical cannabis. There are only nine states and the District of Columbia that have legalized recreational use as well; these states include Alaska, California, Colorado, Oregon, Maine, Massachusetts, Nevada, Vermont, and Washington (Guttmannova, Lee, Kilmer, Fleming, Rhew, Kosterman and Larimer, 2016). Cannabis being decriminalized in these states may have profuse positive outcomes for people of color. Policing would be reduced for cannabis use and possession within these states. Blacks and Hispanics in these areas may be subject to fewer convictions by police because of the nature of the fledgling laws. In this paper, I will analyze latent outcomes of the legalization of cannabis. More specifically, I will examine racial disproportionality in drug conviction pre and post the legalization of cannabis for recreational use in King County and Washington State. I expect to find reductions in racial disproportionality in drug convictions post cannabis legalization at the county and state level. Background History of Cannabis in the United States and Its Links to Race/Ethnicity Scholars suggest that cannabis was first brought to the United States in the beginning of the 1600s. The Jamestown settlers primarily used this plant in hemp production and cultivation until around 1850 (Anderson, Hansen and Rees, 2013). The uses for hemp ranged from clothing and oil to edible nuts. Subsequently following the end of hemp cultivation was the use of hemp for medicinal purposes. The use of herbal medicine did not last very long. As the alcohol prohibition gained support in the 1850s, so did the movement to outlaw cannabis. The first prohibition of recreational cannabis use was passed in 1913 by California. By 1936, the rest of the 47 states decided to do the same (Anderson, Hansen and I. Rees, 2013). In the years to come, these policies led to immense consequences for the consumer, including the label of felon with a stigma that restricted occupational attainment, and included hefty incarceration time and large monetary sanctions. For instance, possessing one joint (cannabis cigarette) in Arizona could lead to up to 10 years in prison with a fine of $50,000 (Inciardi, 1981). Policies and laws such as these became monolithic because “those who have actively promoted these laws, the moral entrepreneurs of drug legislation, have relied on racial slurs and allusions to bolster their arguments for criminal controls” (Provine, 2007). In 1970, cannabis was classified as a Schedule I substance along with heroin and LSD. For a substance to be listed as a Schedule I drug, it must not be accepted for medical use, have a high potential for abuse, and be considered a dangerous drug that can cause psychological and physical dependence (United States Drug Enforcement Administration, 2015). As time moved on, groups began to consider cannabis for medicinal purposes. The Food and Drug Administration began to allow cannabis for medical use in 1978. The number of medical cannabis patients flourished and California eventually passed the Compassionate Use Act in 1996 to allow for personal use of the plant (N. Yankah, 2011). Two years after, Washington State passed Initiative 692 titled Washington State Medical Use of Marijuana Act (Washington State Medical Association). This allowed for the growing, possession, sale, and use of cannabis for medical patients. It is worth noting that this initial stance against cannabis did not necessarily happen out of fear of the potential negative effects of the drug, such as addictive, psychological, and physiological damage. Instead, the prohibition on cannabis developed as a result of anti-minority feeling (Bonnie and Whitebread, 1970). Inciardi (1981) conducted a social constructionist analysis of newspapers about cannabis published in the late 1800s and early 1900s and showed that headlines negatively linked cannabis with communities of color. For example, the New York Times published an article in 1972 titled “Mexican Family Go Insane”. This particular article detailed how a widow and her four children accidentally ate cannabis as part of their vegetables for dinner. In the neighbor’s account, they described hearing “crazed laughter” and rushed to the house to see the entire family “insane”. The doctors said that there would be no hope for the mother and children and that they would be insane for the rest of their lives. These early depictions linking race and drugs have lasting effects on media consumers. For example, results from a study done in 1995 asked respondents to imagine what a typical drug user looks like. Analysis indicates that 95% of the respondents thought of an African American person (Burston, Jones and Robertson-Saunders, 1995). The acceptability of illegal substance tended to rely on the social position of the consumers (H. Skolnick and Dombrink, 1978). The perceived deviance of cannabis intensified once linked with racial/ethnic minorities. Whites were seen as upper class and angelic. People of color were paired with a lower social class, at times considered non-human in the early 1900s. This helps explain the overstated deviance of cannabis. The deviance also increased when the effects were dramatized and exaggerated. In 1936, the American Journal of Nursing said that a cannabis user may “suddenly turn with murderous violence upon whomever is nearest to him. He will turn amuck with knife, axe, gun, or anything else that is close at hand, and will kill or maim without any reason" (Musto, 1991). Articles such as these from professionals are an example of the control around cannabis use and how it was perceived by the general public. Cannabis Laws in King County and Washington State and Implications for 2012 As Seattle is the most populated city in King County and thus Washington State, I will give emphasis to their policies and the city will have the most influence per this discussion. In 2003, Seattle, Washington voters passed the Marijuana Law Enforcement or “Initiative 75”. This initiative required all cannabis offenses for adult personal use to be the lowest priority for the Seattle Police Department (SPD) (Atherly and Baird, 2014). This change in the Seattle municipal code was a huge step towards decriminalization of cannabis in Washington State (Seattle, Washington Municipal code 12A.20.060). Subsequently, on November 6th 2012, Washington Initiative 502 was approved by a majority vote (Washington State Liquor and Cannabis Board, 2015). The cannabis reform had many different components that took over a year to be fully established. The passing of I 502 legalized the recreational use of cannabis for individuals 21 and older. A 21 year old may possess up to one ounce of usable cannabis, seven grams of cannabis concentrates/extracts, 16 ounces of cannabis infused in a solid form, up to 72 ounces of cannabis infused in liquid form, and also paraphernalia related to cannabis. Only cannabis producers, processors, and retailers with a license are permitted to distribute cannabis. Seattle’s massive drug market has been analyzed and researched during these years to learn if there are disparities among race and ethnicities in drug convictions. Katherine Beckett demonstrates that Seattle is unique in many ways. During the 2000s, Seattle was estimated to have the fourth largest drug market in the country. The predominantly white city has a white population of about 70% and 8% black population. Despite the low proportion of Blacks, during a 28-month investigation in Seattle, black people represented 51.1% of drug violation arrests (Beckett, Nyrop, Pfingst and Bowen, 2005). Beckett et. al (2005) attribute most of these arrests to the focus on crack cocaine by the SPD. This may be due to the fact that crack cocaine has been represented through media as a “Black” drug (Kutateladze, Andiloro, Johnson and Spohn, 2014). Another reason for the high number of arrests is explained by the location of the drug market. Beckett et. al suggest that the SPD tends to focus on racially diverse outdoor drug markets, such as Downtown Seattle, compared to indoor and/or outdoor White drug markets, such as a neighborhood named Capitol Hill (Beckett, Nyrop and Pfingst, 2006). Previous research on Seattle’s drug market indicates that Blacks and Hispanics do not necessarily use or sell at higher rates than Whites, and yet, the SPD tends to focus on people of color. These results of racial disparity are consistent with other states as well. New York data shows that there are not just disproportionate percentages in possession/delivery arrests, but that Blacks and Hispanics are also more likely than Whites to be arrested for smoking cannabis in public and cannabis misdemeanor sales. They are also likely to spend more time in jail or prison for these cannabis offenses (Golub, D. Johnson and Dunlap, 2007). Thus, it is clear that people of color—primarily Blacks and Hispanics—are being convicted disproportionately for drugs. Given that cannabis is legal in the state of Washington, I want to first investigate if the legalization has had a significant impact on the number of drug convictions for people of color. Second, I will examine how much of an impact a prior conviction has on one’s probability of being convicted of a drug offense for each race and ethnicity. This is done by first illustrating drug conviction rates and then examining drug convictions on the condition that the offender has a prior conviction. I also compare the results from King County to Washington as a whole. Lastly, I have computed multivariate logistic regressions to analyze the likelihood of being convicted of a drug offense in Washington State and King County. There have been reports that show cannabis-related arrests and convictions have decreased 81% between 2011 and 2014 (Drug Policy Alliance, 2015). There may be racial/ethnic differences, which I will attempt to contextualize. Subsequently, I will examine the association between the 2012 legalization of cannabis in Washington State and drug conviction rates between different racial/ethnic groups. Methods In the following analysis, I focus on racial/ethnic disproportionality and disparity in drug convictions in Washington State. Unfortunately, the data does not allow me to break out cannabis-related convictions from other types of drug convictions. I use the term disproportionate in convictions to refer to the overrepresentation of certain groups of defendants compared to their representation in the general population. I use the term disparity in convictions to refer to the portion of overrepresentation in convictions of one subgroup that can be explained by differences in the institutional processing of that specific racial/ethnic group as compared to other racial/ethnic groups. That is, racially motivated differences in processing and treatment explains disproportionate overrepresentation of certain groups in drug convictions. Data I examined all convictions within the state of Washington from January of 2000 to June of 2015 using data from the Database and Sentencing of Washington State Caseload Forecast Council Sentencing Data (Washington State Caseload Forecast Council, 2000-2015). My data includes 409,455 convictions of which 36,521 were drug convictions. Variables The dependent variable for analysis is drug conviction (1) or non-drug conviction (0). The primary independent variable of interest is the race/ethnicity of the convicted defendant. The racial/ethnic categories used are White (reference group), Black, Asian, Native American, and Hispanic. The control variables included in the analysis are year of conviction, 2000 (reference year) to 2015, sex (0=Female, 1=Male), county of conviction (King County is reference county), and whether the defendant had any prior convictions (0=no prior offense, 1=prior offense). Each of the control variables will be needed to test the robustness of the influence that the dependent variable has on the independent variable. The year of conviction is relevant because there are many fluctuations over the years in drug convictions. In 2012, Washington State legalized recreational cannabis usage for individuals over 21 years old. There are also gender differences in risk of arrest and convictions (Rodriguez, Curry and Lee, 2006). The counties of Washington State contain differing police practices and demographics. We predict that if a defendant had prior convictions, that might increase the likelihood of a subsequent conviction. These individuals may be targeted as the “usual suspects” (Kutateladze, Andiloro, Johnson and Spohn, 2014). Analytical Approach I compute several bivariate and multivariate logistic regression models. Model A includes all Washington State conviction cases, and Model B includes only convictions in King County, the largest county in this state. The full-state logistic bivariate regression is: The logistic multivariate regression for Washington will be computed as: The King County logistic bivariate regression is formulated as: The King County formula logistic regression is computed as follows: To test for significance of the data, I have conducted a two-tailed 95% confidence interval. When p-values are below a α level of .05, this will indicate that we reject the null hypothesis. The HO is as follows, there is no difference by race or ethnicity in the number of drug convictions when compared to whites (β=0). The HA can be understood as the number of drug convictions is different for each race or ethnicity when compared to whites (β≠0). Findings I will present the findings under three categories. I first examine the racial and ethnic disproportionality in drug conviction. I then discuss the relationship between prior drug convictions and new drug convictions. Finally, I discuss the racial and ethnic disparity in drug conviction. Table 1 presents the summarized statistics for the racial, ethnic, and gender characteristics of convicted defendants in Washington State and King County, averaged between the years 2000 and 2015. Comparing pie charts 1 and 2, and 3 and 4 above demonstrate clear disproportionate numbers when comparing Whites and Blacks in Washington, King County in particular. As the pie charts show, in the state of Washington, Whites comprise 80.7% of the population and 65.49% of drug convictions. Blacks make up a small percentage of the Washington population (4.1%), but an astonishing 5th of the drug convictions (20.08%) - clearly disproportionate. On the other hand, all the other races, i.e. Native Americans, Hispanics, and Asians all have drug convictions relative to or less than their population size in the state. Table 1: Variables and Summary Statistics for Washington State and King County Drug Convictions, 2000 - 2 Note: The median, mean and standard deviation are each the median value across all years (Washington State Caseload Forecast Council) Racial and Ethnic Disproportionality in Drug Convictions Figure 1 is a line graph showing the number of drug convictions by race and year in the whole state. In terms of aggregate numbers, Whites have a larger number of convictions than non-Whites. For most years, Whites remain above 1,300 drug convictions and display 464 convictions halfway through 2015. Native Americans and Asians are convicted at similar rates in Washington State, staying below 75 drug convictions every year. Native Americans hold 9 drug convictions and Asians have 20 for 2015. Hispanic drug convictions have been on a steady decline since 2000. 2015 shows that Hispanics have 69 drug convictions. Blacks peak with 758 drug convictions in 2000, slowly decrease over time hovering around the 500 line until 2010, and then are convicted of a drug offense 87 times in 2015. When first looking at Figure 1, there does not seem to be a significant disparity in drug convictions for Blacks. However, examination of the proportions of convictions suggest racial disproportionality in conviction rates. I will do this by analyzing the proportions of drug convictions regardless if there has been any prior conviction in Figure 2. Throughout all sixteen years, Whites in Washington are convicted well under their 2014 population size. In 2012, the year of legalization, and beyond, Blacks experience their all-time lows in conviction rates for drugs. However, despite their smallest percentage at 13% of the drug conviction rate in 2014 and 2015, it is still about double their population size of 6.7%. On the other hand, Asians, Native Americans, and Hispanics are convicted of a drug offense relative or under their population size. The story changes dramatically when we analyze King County. Figure 3 represents drug convictions in King County. Although Blacks only make up 6.7% of the population in King County, they still have up to about half of the drug convictions for most years. This shows immense disproportionality in conviction rates. On the other hand, other ethnic and racial groups are convicted at rates under or comparable to their population. Relationship Between Prior Drug Convictions and a New Drug Conviction Looking at the Washington drug convictions show that an individual with prior convictions has significantly higher chances of future conviction. Figure 5 illustrates that every year excluding 2015, Blacks with a prior conviction comprise 50% or more of drug convictions. Again, Blacks are 6.7% of the population in King County. Yet among drug convictions annually, Blacks with a prior conviction comprise up to 65% of those convicted of subsequent drug crimes. This data indicates that Blacks are being re-convicted at much higher rates if they have a prior offense than are Whites, who comprise a majority (70%) of the population. Figure 5 shows that the two lowest fractions for Blacks are in years after legalization. The data set shows an increase in 2013 (60%) but then lows in 2014 (50%) and 2015 (45%). Figures 4 and 5 suggest that convictions may have been influenced by the passing of Initiative 75 in King County. Both graphs show that in 2002, there were high proportions of Black people who were convicted of drug-related offenses, and the percentage decreases by a few percentage points in 2003. This could be the result of the de-emphasis of cannabis arrests in King County. This percentage drastically reduced after the passing of I-75, from 29% to 13% in Washington, and from 62% to 45% in King County. Racial and Ethnic Disparity in Drug Conviction Figures 6 and 7 present the odds ratios computed from the multivariate logistic regression. The model compares each racial and ethnic groups probability of being convicted of a drug offense in King County or Washington to Whites’ probability of being convicted. For example, a value of 1.00 means that a person of that race has the same probability of a White individual being convicted. This would mean that in the year 2000, the odds ratio of 2.68 means that Hispanics in Washington State had a 168% higher probability of being convicted of a drug offense than Whites. The Washington and King County multivariate logistic regressions are surprisingly different. Figure 6 presents findings for the likelihood of a drug conviction in Washington State. It shows that Hispanics hover above the odds ratio of 1.50 for every year except for 2006. These numbers show that Hispanics are consistently convicted at higher rates than Whites. Blacks also have higher conviction rates in Washington State. Post cannabis legalization, the likelihood of conviction for a drug offense has decreased for Blacks, bringing the rate to almost that of Whites. In recent years, Blacks’ likelihood of conviction has decreased to about 56% of their White counterparts’ likelihood of being convicted. Asians are convicted around the same rate as Whites, never showing disparity. Figure 7 presents findings for the likelihood of a drug conviction in King County. Asians are convicted at the lowest rates next to Native Americans. For the first ten of the sixteen years of data, Hispanic individuals have over 200% higher likelihood than their White counterparts of being convicted of drug offenses. In 2007, however, the higher likelihood was 673%. Similarly, for most years, Black individuals are 100% more likely to be convicted of a drug offense. However, comparable to the other racial and ethnic categories, post 2012 we see a decrease in the rates of disparity. The logistic regression shows that the probability of getting a drug conviction in King County if you are Black still ranges between 70% and 108% higher likelihood than Whites. Washington State data shows otherwise. Three of the lowest probability ratings come in 2012 and beyond. This data could potentially mean that legalization is having a continuing positive effect on Black communities in Washington. Fewer individuals may be subject to harassment and patrolling because of the nature of the new laws. I have also the statistical significance for each race indicator variable using the multivariate logistic regressions. I have conducted a two-tailed hypothesis test with a 95% confidence interval. Figure 8 shows the distribution of how many years each coefficient on race/ethnicity were statistically significant in Washington and King County. In Washington State, the race indicator for Blacks is statistically significant for 13 years out of 16. This means that the p-value of the observations is below the e α level of .05. Thus, one would not expect these observations to occur by chance more than 1 in 20 times. We fail to reject the null hypothesis for the years 2012, 2014 and 2015. It is noteworthy that these are all years during or post the legalization of cannabis. For every year in King County, the coefficient on a Black race indicator variable is statistically significant. In Washington, the race indicator variable for Hispanics is statistically significant every year. On the other hand, in King County, the race indicator variable is statistically significant for only five years. The variables associated with Asians and Native Americans have a lower frequency of statistical significance. For Native Americans, eleven out of the sixteen years in Washington State are statistically significant. Disparities seem to vanish for Blacks at the state level in 2012 and during the post-legalization period. Hispanics experience this same alleviation of inequality in King County post-legalization. The data shows that Asians are convicted of drug offenses significantly less than Whites. Conclusion The United States is currently facing a problem of mass incarceration. Jails and prisons are disproportionately populated with people of color. Prior research has shown that Blacks and Hispanics are convicted at higher rates for drug offenses. Some scholars have attributed this to the negative media portrayals of these communities. These biases may have been internalized by police departments and have created unequal enforcement regarding drugs. For example, crack cocaine is seen as more deviant and penalized much heavier than cocaine. The difference is that crack cocaine is associated with poor urban Blacks (Beckett, Nyrop, Pfingst and Bowen, 2005). In this paper, I conduct a longitudinal study of drug convictions in Washington State and King County. My findings suggest that drug convictions in Washington and King County have decreased over time. Further research should be conducted to understand if this decrease in drug convictions may be attributed to a decrease in cannabis convictions specifically. A major limitation of my data is that all drug convictions are grouped together. Different drugs are not penalized the same way by criminal justice systems. Racial and ethnic groups may also be convicted at different rates depending on the substance. Overall, the data shows that in Washington and especially in King County, there is a great deal of racial and ethnic disproportionality in drug conviction rates, and racial disparity in drug convictions. Whites have an extremely low probability of being convicted than Blacks and Hispanics. Figure 4 and 5 shows that there is a significant impact of having a prior conviction on the probability of being convicted for a drug offense. In King County every year, Blacks have the highest proportion of drug convictions with the condition of having a prior conviction. This supports prior research in New York City that indicates the likelihood of a conviction increases substantially with the number of prior arrests (Golub, D. Johnson and Dunlap, 2007). Further investigation is necessary to explore why Blacks with a prior offense are being convicted at such higher rates within King County than Whites. Despite the unequal conviction rates, post-legalization in King County does seem to alleviate the racial disparity in drug convictions. The high proportions of non-White individuals convicted for drug offenses in King County may indicate that the policing practices are much different than other counties in Washington. Individuals of color have historically been under heavy surveillance by law enforcement that have institutionalized racial inequality and is perpetuated in conviction after conviction. The effects of the legalization of cannabis may benefit communities of color. The legalization of cannabis may lead to a decrease in racial and ethnic disproportionality and disparities in criminal justice contact for communities of color. References American Civil Liberties Union. “The War on Marijuana in Black and White: Billions of Dollars Wasted on Racially Biased Arrests.” ACLU, 2013. (https://www.aclu.org/files/assets/aclu-thewaronmarijuana-rel2.pdf ) Alexander, Michelle. 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