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- Adithya V. Raajkumar
Adithya V. Raajkumar “Victorian Holocausts”: The Long-Term Consequences of Famine in British India Adithya V. Raajkumar Abstract: This paper seeks to examine whether famines occur- ring during the colonial period affect development outcomes in the present day. We compute district level measures of economic development, social mobility, and infrastructure using cross-sectional satellite luminosity, census data, and household survey data. We then use a panel of recorded famine severity and rain- fall data in colonial Indian districts to construct cross-sectional counts measures of famine occurrence. Finally, we regress modern day outcomes on the number of famines suffered by a district in the colonial era, with and without various controls. We then instrument for famine occurrence with climate data in the form of negative rainfall shocks to ensure exogeneity. We find that districts which suffered more famines during the colonial era have higher levels of economic development; however, high rates of famine occurrence are also associated with a larger percentage of the labor force working in agriculture, lower rural consumption, and higher rates of income inequality. We attempt to explain these findings by showing that famine occurrence is simultaneously related to urbanization rates and agricultural development. Overall, this suggests that the long-run effects of natural disasters which primarily afflict people and not infrastructure are not al- ways straightforward to predict. 1. Introduction What are the impacts of short-term natural disasters in the long-run, and how do they affect economic development? Are these impacts different in the case of disasters which harm people but do not affect physical infrastructure? While there is ample theoretical and empirical literature on the impact of devastating natural disasters such as hurricanes and earthquakes, there are relatively few studies on the long-term consequences of short-term disasters such as famines. Further- more, none of the literature focuses on society-wide development outcomes. The case of colonial India provides a well-recorded setting to examine such a question, with an unfortunate history of dozens of famines throughout the British Raj. Many regions were struck multiple times during this period, to the extent that historian Mike Davis characterizes them as “Victorian Holocausts” (Davis 2001 p.9). While the short-term impacts of famines are indisputable, their long-term effects on economic development, perhaps through human development patterns, are less widely understood. The United Kingdom formally ruled India from 1857 to 1947, following an ear- lier period of indirect rule by the East India Company. The high tax rate imposed on peasants in rural and agricultural India was a principal characteristic of British governance. Appointed intermediaries, such as the landowning zamindar caste in Bengal, served to collect these taxes. Land taxes imposed on farmers often ranged from two-thirds to half of their produce, but could be as high as ninety to ninety-five percent. Many of the intermediaries coerced their tenants into farming only cash crops instead of a mix of cash crops and agricultural crops (Dutt 2001). Aside from high taxation, a laissez-faire attitude to drought relief was another principal characteristic of British agricultural policy in India. Most senior officials in the imperial administration believed that serious relief efforts would cause more harm than they would do good and consequently, were reluctant to dispatch aid to afflicted areas (ibid). The consequences of these two policies were some of the most severe and frequent famines in recorded history, such as the Great Indian Famine of 1893, during which an estimated 5.5 to 10.3 million peasants perished from starvation alone, and over 60 million are believed to have suffered hardship (Fieldhouse 1996). Our paper focuses on three sets of outcomes in order to assess the long-term impact of famines. First, we measure macroeconomic measures of overall development, such as rural consumption per capita and the composition of the labor force. We also use nighttime luminosity gathered from satellite data as a proxy for GDP, of which measurement using survey data can be unreliable. Second, we look at measures of human development: inequality, social mobility, and education, constructed from the India Human Development Survey I and II. Finally, we examine infrastructure, computing effects on village-level electrification, numbers of medical centers, and bus service availability. To examine impacts, we regress famine occurrence on these outcomes via ordinary least-squares (OLS). We use an instrumental-variables (IV) approach to ensure a causal interpretation via as-good-as-random assignment (1). We first estimate famine occurrence, the endogenous independent variable, as a function of rainfall shocks–a plausibly exogenous instrument–before regressing outcomes on predicted famine occurrence via two-stage least-squares (2SLS). Since the survey data are comparatively limited, we transform and aggregate panel data on rainfall and famines as counts in order to use them in a cross-section with the contemporary outcomes. We find for many outcomes that there is indeed a marginal effect of famines in the long-run, although where it is significant it is often quite small. Where famines do have a significant impact on contemporary outcomes, the results follow an interesting pattern : a higher rate of famine occurrence in a given district is associated with greater economic development yet worse rural outcomes and higher inequality. Specifically, famine occurrence has a small but positive impact on nighttime luminosity–our proxy for economic development–and smaller, negative impacts on rural consumption and the proportion of adults with a college education. At the same time, famine occurrence is also associated with a higher proportion of the labor force being employed in the agricultural sector as well as a higher level of inequality as measured by the Gini index (2). Moreover, we find limited evidence that famine occurrence has a slightly negative impact on infrastructure as more famines are associated with reduced access to medical care and bus service. We do not find that famines have any significant impact on social mobility–specifically, intergenerational income mobility–or infrastructure such as electrification in districts. This finding contradicts much of the established literature on natural disasters, which has predominantly found large and wholly negative effects. We at- tempt to explain this disparity by analyzing the impact of famines on urbanization rates to show that famine occurrence may lead to a worsening urban-rural gap in long-run economic development. Thus, we make an important contribution to the existing literature and challenge past research with one of our key findings: short-term natural disasters which do not destroy physical infrastructure may have unexpectedly positive outcomes in the long-run. While the instrumental estimates are guaranteed to be free of omitted variable bias, the OLS standard errors allow for more precise judgments due to smaller confidence intervals. In around half of our specifications, the Hausman test for endogeneity fails to reject the null hypothesis of exogeneity, indicating that the ordinary-least squares and instrumental variables results are equally valid (3). How- ever, the instrumental variables estimate helps address other problems, such as attenuation bias, due to possible measurement error (4). Section 2 presents a review of the literature and builds a theoretical framework for understanding the impacts of famines on modern-day outcomes. Section 3 describes our data, variable construction, and summary statistics. Sections 4 and 5 present our results using ordinary least-squares and instrumental two-stage least- squares approaches. Section 6 discusses and attempts to explain these results. 2. Review and Theoretical Framework 1. The Impact of Natural Disasters Most of the current literature on natural disasters as a whole pertains to physical destructive phenomena such as severe weather or seismic events. Moreover, most empirical studies, such as Nguyen et al (2020) and Sharma and Kolthoff (2020) , focus on short-run aspects of natural disasters relating to various facets of proxi- mate causes (Huff 2020) or pathways of short-term recovery (Sharma and Kolthoff 2020). Famines are a unique kind of natural disaster in that they greatly affect crops, people, and animals but leave physical infrastructure and habitation relatively unaffected. We attempt to take this element of famines into account when explaining our results. Of the portion of the literature that focuses on famines, most results center on individual biological outcomes such as height, nutrition, (Cheng and Hui Shui 2019) or disease (Hu et al. 2017. A percentage of the remaining studies fixate on long-term socioeconomic effects at the individual level (Thompson et al. 2019). The handful of papers that do analyze broad long-term socioeconomic outcomes, such as Ambrus et al. (2015) and Cole et al. (2019), all deal with either long-term consequences of a single, especially severe natural disaster or the path dependency effects that may occur because of the particular historical circumstances of when a disaster occurs, such as in Dell (2013). On the other hand, our analysis spans several occurrences of the same type of phenomenon in a single, relatively stable sociohistorical setting, thereby utilizing a much larger and more reliable sample of natural disasters. Thus, our paper is the first to examine the long-term effects of a very specific type of natural disaster, famine, on the overall development of an entire region, by considering multiple occurrences thereof. Prior econometric literature on India’s famine era has highlighted other areas of focus, such as Burgess and Donaldson (2012), which shows that trade openness helped mitigate the catastrophic effects of famine. There is also plenty of historical literature on the causes and consequences of the famines, most notable in academic analyses from British historians (contemporarily, Carlyle 1900 and Ewing 1919; more recently Fieldhouse), which tend to focus on administrative measures, or more specifically, the lack thereof. In terms of the actual effects of famine, all of the established literature asserts that natural disasters overwhelmingly influence economic growth through two main channels: destruction of infrastructure and resulting loss of human capital (Lima and Barbosa 2019, Nguyen et al. 2020, Cole et al. 2019), or sociopolitical historical consequences, such as armed conflict (Dell 2013, Huff 2019). Famines pose an interesting question in this regard since they tend to result in severe loss of human capital through population loss due to starvation but generally result in smaller-scale infrastructure losses (Agbor and Price 2013). This is especially the case for rural India, which suffered acute famines while having little infrastructure in place (Roy 2006). We examine three types of potential outcomes: overall economic development, social mobility, and infrastructure, as outlined in section three. Our results present a novel finding in that famine occurrence seems to positively impact certain outcomes while negatively impacting most others, which we attempt to explain by considering the impact of famines on urbanization rates. Famines can impact outcomes through various mechanisms; therefore, we leave the exact causal mechanism unspecified and instead treat famines as generic shocks with subsequent recovery of unknown speed. If famines strike repeatedly, their initial small long-term effects on outcomes can escalate. In order to distinguish long- run effects of famines, we construct a simple growth model where flow variables such as growth quickly return to the long-run average after the shock, but stock variables such as GDP or consumption only return to the average asymptotically. Our intuition for the basis of distinguishing a long-run effect of famines rests on a simple growth model in which flow variables such as growth quickly return to the long-run average after a shock, but stock variables such as GDP or consumption only return to the average asymptotically (5). Thus, over finite timespans, the differences in stock variables between districts that undergo famines and those that do not should be measurable even after multiple decades. As mentioned below, this is in line with more recent macroeconomic models of natural disasters such Hochrainer (2009) and Bakkensen and Barrage (2018). Assume colonial districts (indexed by i ) suffer n i famines over the time period (in our data, the years 1870 to 1930), approximated as average constant rates f i . The occurrence of famine can then be modeled by a Poisson process with interval parameter f i , which represents the expected time between famines–even though the exact time is random and thus unknown–until it is realized (6). For simplicity, we assume that famines cause damage d to a district’s economy, for which time r i is needed to recover to its assumed long-run, balanced growth path (7). We make no assumptions on the distributions of d and r i except that r i is dependent on d and that the average recovery time E[ r i] is similarly a function of E[ d ]. If the district had continued on the growth path directly without the famine, absent any confounding effects, it would counterfactually have more positive out- comes today by a factor dependent on niE[tf] and thus n i , the number of famines suffered. We cannot observe the counterfactuals (the outcome in the affected district had it not experienced a famine), so instead, we use the unaffected districts in the sample as our comparison group. Controlling for factors such as population and existing infrastructure, each district should provide a reasonably plausible counterfactual for the other districts in terms of the number of famines suffered. Then, the differences in outcomes among districts measured today, y i , can be modeled as a function of the differences in the number of famines, n i . Finally, across the entire set of districts, this can be used to represent the average outcome E[y i ] as a function of the number of famines, which forms the basis of our ordinary-least squares approach in section four. This assumes that the correlation between famine occurrence and outcome is equal to 0. To account for the possibility their correlation is non-zero, we also use rainfall shocks to isolate the randomized part of our independent variable in order to ensure that famine occurrence is uncorrelated with our outcome variables. The use of rainfall shocks, in turn, forms the basis of our instrumental variables approach in section five. The important question is the nature of the relationship between d and ri . While f can be easily inferred from our data, d and especially r are much more difficult to estimate without detailed, high-level, and accurate data. Since the historical record is insufficiently detailed to allow precise estimation of the parameters of such a model, we constrain the effects of famine to be linear in our estimation in sections four and five. 2. Estimation Having constrained the hypothesized effects of famine to be linear, in section four, we would prefer to estimate (1) below, where represents our estimate of the effect of famine severity ( famine i), measured as the number of famines undergone by the district, on the outcome variable outcome yi, and Xi is a vector of contem- porary (present-day) covariates, such as mean elevation and soil quality. The con- stant term captures the mean outcomes across all districts andis a district-specific error term. Much of the research on famine occurrence in colonial India attributes the occurrence of famines and their consequences to poor policies and administration by the British Raj. If this is the case, and these same policies hurt the development of districts in other ways, such as by stunting industrialization directly, then the estimation of (1) will not show the correct effect of famines per se on comparative economic development. Additionally, our observations of famines, which are taken indirectly from district-level colonial gazetteers and reports, may be subject to “measurement” error that is non-random. For example, the reporting of famines in such gazetteers may be more accurate in well-developed districts that received preferential treatment from British administrators. To solve this problem, we turn to the examples of Dell et al. (2012), Dell (2013), Hoyle (2010), and Donaldson and Burgess (2012), who use weather shocks as instruments for natural disaster severity. While Dell (2013) focuses on historical consequences arising from path dependency and Hoyle (2010) centralizes on productivity, the instrumental methodology itself is perfectly applicable to our work. Another contribution of our pa- per is to further the use of climate shocks as instruments. We expand upon the usage of climate shocks as instruments because they fit the two main criteria for an instrumental variable. Primarily, weather shocks are extremely short-term phenomena, so their occurrence is unlikely to be correlated with longer-term climate factors that may impact both historical and modern outcomes. Secondly, they are reasonably random and provide exogenous variation with which we can estimate the impact of famines in an unbiased manner. We first estimate equation (2) below before estimating (1) using the predicted occurrence of famine from (2): We calculate famine as the number of reported events occurring in our panel for a district and rainfall as the number of years in which the deviation of rainfall from the mean falls below a certain threshold, nominally the fifteenth and tenth percentiles of all rainfall deviations for that district. As in (1), there is a constant term and error term. As is standard practice, we include the control variables in the first-stage even though they are quite plausibly unrelated to the rainfall variable. This allows us to estimate the impacts of famine with a reasonably causal interpretation; since the assignment of climate shocks is ostensibly random, using them to “proxy” for famines in this manner is akin to “as good as random” estimation. The only issue with this first-stage specification is that while we instrument counts of famine with counts of lo w rainfall years, the specific years in which low rainfall occurs theoretically need not match up with years in which famine is recorded in a given district. Therefore, we would prefer to estimate (3) below instead, since it provides additional identification through a panel dataset. Any other climate factors should be demeaned out by the time effects. Other district characteristics that may influence agricultural productivity and therefore famine severity, such as soil quality, should be differenced out with district effects, represented by the parameters. Differences in administrative policy should be resolved with provincial fixed effects. Unfortunately, we would then be unable to implement the standard instrumental variables practice of including the control variables in both stages since our modern-day outcomes are cross-sectional (i.e, we only have one observation per district for those measures). Nevertheless, our specification in (2) should reason- ably provide randomness that is unrelated to long-term climate factors, as mentioned above. Finally, we collapse the panel by counting the number of famines that occur in the district over time in order to compare famine severity with our cross-sectional modern-day outcomes and to get an exogenous count measure of famine that we can use de novo in (1). To account for sampling variance in our modern-day estimates, we use error weights constructed from the current population of each district meaning that our approach in section 5 is technically weighted least-squares, not ordinary. While this should account for heteroscedasticity in the modern observations, we use robust SM estimators in our estimations (McKean 2004, Barrera and Yohai 2006) to assure that our standard errors on the historical famine and rainfall variables are correct (8). The results of these approaches are detailed in section six. 3. Data 1. Sources and Description Our principal data of interest is a historical panel compiled from a series of colonial district gazetteers by Srivastava (1968) and details famine severity at the district level over time in British India from 1870 to 1930. Donaldson and Burgess (2010) then code these into an ordinal scale by using the following methodology: 4 – District mentioned in Srivastava’s records as “intensely affected by famine” 3 – District mentioned as “severely affected” 2 – Mentioned as “affected” 1 – Mentioned as “lightly affected” 0 – Not mentioned 9 – Specifically mentioned as being affected by spillover effects from a neighbor- ing district (there are only four such observations, so we exclude them) In our own coding of the data, we categorize famines as codes 2, 3, and 4, with severe famines corresponding to codes 3 and 4. We compute further cross-sectional measures, chiefly the total number and proportion of famine-years that a district experienced over the sixty-year periods. This is equivalent to tabulating the frequency of code occurrences and adding the resulting totals for codes 2 to 4 to obtain a single count measure of famine. Our results are robust to using “severe” (codes 3 and 4) famines instead of codes 2, 3, and 4. Across the entire panel, codes from 0 to 4 occurred with the following frequencies: 4256, 35, 207, 542, and 45 respectively. We also supplemented this panel with panel data on rainfall over the same time period. Several thousand measuring stations across India collected daily rainfall data over the time period, which Donaldson (2012) annualizes and compares with crop data. The rainfall data in Donaldson (2012) represents the total rainfall in a given district over a year, categorized by growing seasons of various crops (for ex- ample, the amount of total rainfall in a district that fell during the wheat growing season). Since different districts likely had different shares of crops, we average over all crops to obtain an approximation of total rainfall over the entire year. We additionally convert this into a more relevant measure in the context of famine by considering only the rainfall that fell during the growing seasons of crops typically grown for consumption in the dataset; those being bajra, barley, gram (bengal), jowar (sorghum), maize, ragi (millet), rice, and wheat. Finally, to ensure additional precision over the growing season, we simply add rainfall totals during the grow- ing seasons of the two most important food crops - rice and wheat - which make up over eighty percent of food crops in the country (World Bank, UN-FAOSTAT). The two crops have nearly opposite growing seasons, so the distribution of rainfall over the combined growing seasons serves as an approximation of total annual rainfall. Our results are robust with regards to all three definitions; the pairwise correlations between the measures are never less than ninety percent. Moreover, the cross-sectional famine instruments constructed from these are almost totally identical as the patterns in each type of rainfall (that is, their statistical distributions over time) turn out to be the same. As expected, there appears to be significant variation in annual rainfall. The ex- ample of the Buldana district (historically located in the Bombay presidency, now in Maharashtra state) highlights this trend, as shown in Figure 1 on the following page. In general, the trends for both measures of rainfall over time are virtually in- distinguishable aside from magnitude. As anticipated, famine years are marked by severe and/or sustained periods of below-average rainfall although the correlation is not perfect. There are a few districts which have years with low rainfall and no recorded famines, but this can mostly be explained by a lack of sufficient records, especially in earlier years. On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are a few districts that recorded famines despite above-average rainfall, which could possibly be the result of non-climatic factors such as colonial taxation policies, conflicts, or other natural disasters, such as insect plagues. However, the relationship between rainfall patterns and famine occurrence suggests that we can use the former as an instrument for the latter especially since the correlation is not perfect, and famine occurrence is plausibly non-random due to the impact of British land ownership policies. Figure 1: Rainfall over time for Buldana from 1870 to 1920 Notes : The dashed line shows mean rainfall for all food crops; the solid line shows the total rainfall over the wheat and rice growing seasons. The blue and purple lines represent the historical means for these measures of rainfall. The rad shading denotes years in which famines are recorded as having affected the district. We construct count instruments for famines by first computing the historic mean and annual deviation for rainfall in each district. We can then count famines as years in which the deviation was in the bottom fifteenth percentile in order to capture relatively severe and negative rainfall shocks as plausible famine causes. For severe famines, we use the bottom decile instead. The percentiles were chosen based on famine severity so that the counts obtained using this definition were as similar as possible to the actual counts constructed from recorded famines (see above) in the panel dataset. For modern-day outcomes, we turn to survey data from the Indian census as well as the Indian Human Development Survey II, which details personal variables (ex. consumption and education), infrastructure measures (such as access to roads), and access to public goods (ex. hospital availability) at a very high level of geographical detail. An important metric constructed from the household development surveys is that of intergenerational mobility as measured by the expected income percentile of children whose parents belonged to a given income percentile, which we obtain from Novosad et al. (2019). Additionally, as survey data can often be unreliable, we supplement these with an analysis of satellite luminosity data, which provides measures of the (nighttime) luminosity of geographic cells, which should serve as a more reliable proxy for economic development, following Henderson et al. (2011) and Pinkovsky and Sala-i-Martin (2016). These data are mostly obtained from Novosad et. al (2018, 2019) and Iyer (2010), which we have aggregated to the district level. The outcomes variables are as follows: 1. Log absolute magnitude per capita. We intend this to serve as a proxy for a district’s economic development in lieu of reliable GDP data. This is the logarithm of the total luminosity observed in the district divided by the district’s population. These are taken from Vernon and Storeygard (2011) by way of Novosad et al. (2018). 2. Log rural consumption per capita. This is taken from the Indian Household Survey II by way of Novosad et al. (2019). 3. Share of the workforce employed in the cultivation sector, intended as a mea- sure of rural development and reliance on agriculture (especially subsistence agri- culture). This is taken from Iyer et al. (2010). 4. Gini Index, from Iyer (2010), as a measure of inequality. 5. Intergenerational income mobility (father-son pairs), taken from Novosad et al. (2018). Specifically, we consider the expected income percentile of sons in 2012 whose fathers were located in the 25th percentile for household income (2004), using the upper bound for robustness (9). 6. The percentage of the population with a college degree, taken from census data. 7. Electrification, i.e. the percent of villages with all homes connected to the power grid (even if power is not available twenty-four hours per day). 8. Percent of villages with access to a medical center, taken from Iyer (2010), as a measure of rural development in the aspect of public goods. 9. Percent of villages with any bus service, further intended as a measurement of public goods provision and infrastructure development. Broadly speaking, these can be classified into three categories with 1-3 representing broad measures of economic development, 4-6 representing inequality and human capital, and 7-9 representing the development of infrastructure and the provision of public goods. As discussed in section two, our preliminary hypothesis is that the occurrence of famines has a negative effect on district development, which is consistent with most of the literature on disasters. Hence, given a higher occurrence of famine, we expect that districts suffering from more famines during the colonial period will be characterized by lower levels of development, being (1) less luminous at night, (2) poorer in terms of a lower rural consumption, and (3) more agricultural, i.e have a higher share of the labor force working in agriculture. Similarly, with regards to inequality and human capital, we expect that more famine-afflicted districts will have (4) higher inequality in terms of a higher Gini index, (5) lower upward social mobility in terms of a lower expected income percentile for sons whose fathers were at the 25th income percentile, and (6) a lower percentage of adults with a college education. Finally, by the same logic, these districts should be relatively underdeveloped in terms of infrastructure, and thus (7) lack access to power, (8) lack access to medical care, and (9) lack access to transportation services. Finally, even though our independent variable when instrumented should be exogenous, we attempt to control for geographic and climatic factors affecting agriculture and rainfall in each district, namely: - Soil type and quality (sandy, rocky or barren, etc.) - Latitude (degree) and mean temperature (degrees Celsius) - Coastal location (coded as a dummy variable) - Area in square kilometers (it should be noted that district boundaries correspond well, but not perfectly, to their colonial-era counterparts) As mentioned previously, research by Iyer and Banerjee (2008, 2014) suggests that the type of land-tenure system implemented during British rule has had a huge impact on development in the districts (10). We also argue that it may be re- lated to famine occurrence directly (for example, in that tenure systems favoring landlords may experience worse famines), in light of the emerging literature on agricultural land rights, development, and food security (Holden and Ghebru 2016, Maxwell and Wiebe 1998). Specifically, we consider specifications with and without the proportion of villages in the district favoring a landlord or non-land- lord tenure system, obtained from Iyer (2010). In fact, the correlation between the two variables in our dataset is slightly above 0.23, which is not extremely high but enough to be of concern in terms of avoiding omitted variable bias. We ultimately consider four specifications for each dependent variable based on the controls in X from equation (1): no controls, land tenure, geography, and land tenure with geography. Each of these sets of controls addresses a different source of omitted variable bias: the first, land-tenure, addresses the possibility of British land-tenure policies causing both famines and long-term development outcomes. The second, geography, addresses the possibility of factors such as mean elevation and temperature impacting crop growth while also influencing long-term development (for example, if hilly and rocky districts suffer from more famines because they are harder to grow crops in but also suffer from lower development because they are harder to build infrastructure in or access via transportation). We avoid using contemporary controls for the outcome variables (that is, including infrastructure variables, income per capita, or welfare variables in the right- hand side) because many of these could reasonably be the result of the historical effects (the impact of famines) we seek to study. As such, including them as controls would artificially dilate the impact of our independent variable. 2. Summary statistics Table I presents summary statistics of our cross-sectional dataset on the follow- ing page. One cause for potential concern is that out of the over 400 districts in colonial India, we have only managed to capture 179 in our sample. This is due chiefly to a paucity of data regarding rainfall; there are only 191 districts captured in the original rainfall data from Donaldson (2012). In addition, the changing of district names and boundaries over time makes the matching of old colonial districts with modern-day administrative subdivisions more imprecise than we would like. Nevertheless, these districts cover a reasonable portion of modern India as well as most of the regions which underwent famines during imperial rule. The small number of districts may also pose a problem in terms of the standard errors on our coefficients, as the magnitude of the impacts of famines that occurred over a hundred years ago on outcomes today is likely to be quite small. Table 1 – Summary Statistics Source : Author calculations, from Iyer (2010), Iyer and Bannerjee (2014), Novosad et. al (2018), Asher and No- vosad (2019), Donaldson and Burgess (2012). 4. Ordinary Least Squares Although we suspect that estimates of famine occurrence and severity based on recorded historical observations may be nonrandom for several reasons (mentioned in section two and three), we first consider direct estimation of (1) from section two. For convenience, equation (1) is reprinted below: As in the previous section, famine refers to the number of years that are coded 2, 3, or 4 in famine severity as described in Srivastava (1968). X is the set of con- temporary covariates, also described in section three. We estimate four separate specifications of (1) where X varies: 1. No controls, i.e. X is empty. 2. Historical land tenure, to capture any effects related to British land policy in causing both famines and long-term developmental outcomes. 3. Geographical controls relating to climatic and terrestrial factors, such as temperature, latitude, soil quality, etc. 4. Both (2) and (3). Table II presents the estimates for the coefficients on famines and tenure for our nine dependent variables on the following page (we omit coefficients and confidence intervals for the geographic variables for reasons of brevity and relevance in terms of interpretation). In general, the inclusion or exclusion of controls does not greatly change the magnitudes of the estimates nor their significance, except for a few cases. We discuss effects for each dependent variable below: Log of total absolute magnitude in the district per capita : The values for famine suggest that interestingly, each additional famine results in anywhere from 1.8 to 3.6 percent more total nighttime luminosity per person in the district. As mentioned in section three, newer literature shows that nighttime luminosity is a far more reliable gauge of development than reported survey measures such as GDP, so this result is not likely due to measurement error. Thus, as the coefficient on famine is positive, it seems that having suffered more famines is positively related to development. This in fact is confirmed by the instrumental variables (IV) estimates in Table III (see section five). Curiously, the inclusion of tenure and geography controls separately does not change the significance, but including both of them together in the covariates generates far larger confidence intervals than expected and reduces the magnitude of the effect by an entire order of magnitude. This may be because each set of controls tackles a different source of omitted variable bias. As expected, however, land tenure plays a significant role in predicting a district’s development; even a single percent increase in the share of villages with a tenant-favorable system is associated with a whopping 73-80% additional night- time luminosity per person. Log rural consumption per capita : We find evidence that additional famines are associated with lower rural consumption, albeit on a minuscule scale. This suggests that the beneficial effect of famines on development may not be equal across urban and rural areas but instead concentrated in cities. For example, there might be a causal pathway that implies faster urbanization in districts that undergo more famines. Unlike with luminosity, historical land tenure does not seem to play a role in rural consumption. Percent of the workforce employed in cultivation : As expected, additional famines seem to play a strongly significant but small role with regards to the labor patterns in the district. Districts with more famines seem to have nearly one percent of the labor force working in cultivation for each additional famine, suggesting famines may inhibit development of industries other than agriculture and cultivation. Our instrumental variables estimates confirm this. Puzzlingly, land tenure does not seem to be related to this very much at all. Gini Index : The coefficients for the number of famines seem to be difficult to interpret as both those for the specification with no controls and with both sets of controls are statistically significant with similar magnitudes yet opposite signs. The confidence interval for the latter is slightly narrower. This is probably because the true estimate is zero or extremely close to zero, and the inclusion or exclusion of controls is enough to narrowly affect the magnitude to as to flip the sign of the co- efficient. In order to clarify this, more data is needed – i.e for more of the districts in colonial India to be matched in our original sample. At the very least, we can say that land tenure clearly has a large and significant positive association with in- equality. Unfortunately, this association cannot be confirmed as causal due to the lack of an instrument for land tenure which covers enough districts of British India. However, as Iyer and Banerjee (2014) argue, the assignment of tenure systems itself was plausibly random (having been largely implemented on the whims of British administrators) so that one could potentially interpret the results as causal with some level of caution. Intergenerational income mobility : Similarly, we do not find evidence of an association between the number of famines suffered by a district in the colonial era and social mobility in the present day, but we do find a strong impact of land tenure, which makes sense to the reported institutional benefits of tenant-favorable systems in encouraging development as well as the obvious benefits for the tenants and their descendants themselves. Each one-percent increase in the share of villages in a district that uses a tenant-favorable system in the colonial era is associated with anywhere from ten to thirteen percent higher expected income percentile for sons whose fathers were at the 25th percentile in 1989 although the estimates presented in Table II are an upper bound. College education : We find extremely limited evidence that famines in the colonial period are associated with less human capital in the present day, with a near-zero effect of additional famines on the share of adults in a district with a college degree (in fact, rounded to zero with five to six decimal places). Land tenure similarly has very little or no effect. Electrification, access to medical care , bus service : All three of these infra- structure and public goods variables show a negligible effect of famines, but strong impacts of historical land tenure. Ultimately, we find that famines themselves seem to have some positive impact on long-term development despite also being associated with many negative out- comes, such as a greater share of the workforce employed in agriculture (i.e as opposed to more developed activities such as manufacturing or service). Another finding of note is that while famines do not seem to have strong associations with all of our measures, land tenure does. This suggests that the relationship between land-tenure and famine is worth looking into. The existence of bias in the recording of famines, as well as the potential for factors that both cause famines while simultaneously affecting long-term outcomes, present a possible problem with these estimates. We have already attempted to account for one of those, namely historical land tenure systems. Indeed, in most of the specifications, including tenure in the regression induces a decrease in the magnitude of the coefficient on famine. As the effect of famine tends to be extremely small to begin with, the relationship is not always clear. Other errors are also possible. For example, it is possible that a given district experienced a famine in a given year, but insufficient records of its occurrence remained by 1968. Then, Srivastiva (1968) would have assigned that district a code of 0 for that year, but the correct code should have been higher. Indeed, as described in section three, a code of 0 corresponds to a code of “not mentioned”, which encompasses both “not mentioned at all” and “not mentioned as being affected by famine” (Donaldson and Burgess 2010). While measurement error in the dependent variable is usually not a problem, error in the independent variable can lead to attenuation bias in the coefficients since the ordinary least-squares algorithm minimizes the error on the dependent variable by estimating coefficients for the independent variables. The greater this error, the more the ordinary least- squares method will bias the estimated coefficients towards zero in an attempt to minimize error in the dependent variable (Riggs et al. 1978). For these reasons, we turn to instrumental variables estimation in section five in an attempt to provide additional identification. Table 2 – Ordinary Least-Square Estimates Notes : Independent variable is number of with recorded famines (famine code of 2 or above). Control specifications: (a) no controls, (b) land-tenure control (proportion of villages with tenant-ownership land tenure system), (c) geographic controls (see section three for enumeration), (d) both land-tenure and geographic controls. Source : Author calculations. These are more table notes. The style is Table Notes. *** Significant at the 1 percent level or below (p ≤ 0.01). ** Significant at the 5 percent level (0.01 < p ≤ 0.05). * Significant at the 10 percent level (0.05 < p ≤ 0.1). 5. Weather Shocks as an Instrument for Famine Severity As explained in section two, there are many possible reasons why recorded famine data may not be exogenous. In any case, it would be desirable to have a truly exogenous measure of famine, for which we turn to climate data in the form of rainfall shocks. Rainfall is plausibly connected to the occurrence of famines, especially in light of the colonial government’s laissez-faire approach to famine relief (Bhatia 1968). For example, across all districts, mean rainfall averaged around 1.31m in years without any famine and around 1.04m in districts which were at least somewhat affected by famine (code 1 or above). Figure 2 below shows that there is a very clear association between rainfall activity and famines in colonial India, although variability in climate data as well as famine and agricultural policy means that there are some high-rainfall districts which do experience famines as well as low-rainfall districts which do not experience as many famines, as noted in section three. Figure 2: Associations between famine occurrence and rainfall trends It should be clear from the first three scatterplots above that there is a negative relationship between the amount of rainfall a district receives and the general prevalence of famine but more importantly, the total size of the rainfall shocks and the total occurrences of famine in that district. From the final plot we see that when we classify low-rainfall years by ranking the deviations from the mean, counting the number of years in which these deviations are in the bottom fifteenth percentile corresponds well to the actual number of recorded famines for each district. In order to use this to measure famine exogenously, we first estimate (2) (see below, section two and section three) where we predict the number of famines from the number of negative rainfall shocks as represented by deviation from the mean in the bottom fifteen percent of all deviations before estimating (1) using this predicted estimate of famine in place of the recorded values. Our reduced form11 estimates, where we first run (1) using the number of negative rainfall shocks directly, are presented on the following pages in Table III (11). The reduced form equation is shown as (4) below as well: Table 3 – Reduced form estimates for IV Notes : Independent variable is number of years in which deviation of rainfall from the historic mean is in the bottom fifteenth-percentile. Control specifications: (a) no controls, (b) land-tenure control (proportion of villages with tenant-ownership land tenure system), (c) geographic controls (see section three for enumeration), (d) both land-tenure and geographic controls. Source : Author calculations. These are more table notes. The style is Table Notes. *** Significant at the 1 percent level or below (p ≤ 0.01). ** Significant at the 5 percent level (0.01 < p ≤ 0.05). * Significant at the 10 percent level (0.05 < p ≤ 0.1). From Table III, it would appear that negative rainfall shocks have similar effects on the outcome variables as do recorded famines in terms of the statistical significance of the coefficients on the independent variable. There is also the added benefit that we can confirm our very small and slightly negative effects of famines on the proportion of adults with a college education: for each additional year of exceptionally low rainfall in a district, the number of adults with a college education in 2011 decreases by 0.1%. In addition, whereas the coefficients in Table II were conflicting, Table III provides evidence in favor of the view that additional famines increase inequality in a district as measured by the Gini index. However, the magnitudes of the effects of famines or low-rainfall years are pre- dominantly larger than their counterparts in Table II to a rather puzzling extent. While we stated earlier in section three that famines and rainfall are not perfectly correlated, it might be that variation in historical rainfall shocks can better explain variation in outcomes in the present day. In order to get a better understanding of the relationship between the two, it would first be wise to look at the coefficients presented in Table IV, which are the results of the two-stage least-squares estimation using low-rainfall years as an instrument for recorded famines. Table IV follows the patterns established in Table II and Table III with regards to the significance of the coefficients as well as their signs; famines have a statistically significant and positive impact on nighttime luminosity, a significant negative impact on rural consumption, and a positive impact on the percent of the labor force employed in agriculture. The results with respect to Table II, concerning the impact of famine on the proportion of adults with a college education, are also very similar. Most other specifications do not show a significant effect of famine on the respective outcome with the exception of access to medical care. Unlike in Table II and Table III, each additional famine is associated with an additional 11.2 to 12.5 percent of villages in that district having some form of medical center or service readily accessible (according to the specifications with geographic controls, which we argue are more believable than the ones without). However, this relationship breaks down at the level of famines seen in some of our districts; a district having suffered nine or ten famines would see more than 100% of its villages having access to medical centers (which is clearly nonsensical), suggesting we may need to look for nonlinearity in the effects of famine in section six. Unfortunately, unlike in Table III, it seems that we cannot conclude much regarding the effect of famines on intergenerational mobility as the coefficients are contradictory and generally not statistically significant. For example, the coefficient on famine in the model without any controls is highly significant and positive, but the coefficient in the model with all controls is not significant and starkly negative. The same is true for the effect of famines on the Gini index. One possibility is that the positive coefficients on famine for both of these dependent variables are driven by outliers as our data was relatively limited due to factors mentioned in section 2. The magnitudes of the coefficients in Table IV are generally smaller than those presented in Table III but still significantly larger than the ones in Table II. For ex- ample, in Table II, the ordinary least-squares model suggests that each additional historical famine is associated with an additional 0.5 to 0.9 percent of the district’s workforce being employed in cultivation in 2011, but in Table IV, these numbers range from 1.5 to 4.3 percent for the same specifications, representing almost a tenfold increase in magnitude in some cases. One reason for this is the possibility attenuation bias in the ordinary least-squares regression; here, there should not be any attenuation bias in our results as the use of instruments which we assume are not correlated with any measurement error in the recording of famines excludes that possibility (Durbin 1954). On the other hand, the Hausman test for endogeneity (the econometric gold standard for testing a model’s internal validity) often fails to reject the null hypothesis that the recorded famine variable taken from Srivastava (1968) and Donaldson and Burgess (2012) is exogenous. To be precise, in one sense the test fails to reject the null hypothesis that the rainfall data add no new “information”, which is not captured in the reported famine data. It is possible that our rainfall instrument, as used in equation (2) is invalid due to endogeneity with the regression model specified in equation (1) despite being excluded from it. The only way to test this possibility is to conduct a Sargan-Han- sen test12 on the model’s overidentifying restrictions; however, we are unable to conduct the test as we have a single instrument. It follows that our model is not actually overidentified (12). Table 4 –Instrumental Variables Estimates Notes : Independent variable is number of years with recorded famines (famine code of 2 or above), instrumented with number of low-rainfall years (rainfall deviation from historic mean in bottom fifteenth percentile). Control specifications: (a) no controls, (b) land-tenure control (proportion of villages with tenant-ownership land tenure system), (c) geographic controls (see section three for enumeration), (d) both land-tenure and geographic controls. Source : Author calculations. These are more table notes. The style is Table Notes. *** Significant at the 1 percent level or below (p ≤ 0.01). ** Significant at the 5 percent level (0.01 < p ≤ 0.05). * Significant at the 10 percent level (0.05 < p ≤ 0.1). We also need to consider the viability of our instrumental variables estimates. Table V on the following page offers mixed support. While the weak-instrument test always rejects the null-hypothesis of instrument weakness, for models with more controls, namely those with geographic controls, the first-stage F-values – the test statistics of interest– are relatively small. Which is not encouraging as generally a value of ten or more is recommended to be assured of instrument strength (Staiger and Stock 1997) (13). In Table IV, we show confidence intervals obtained by inverting the Anderson-Rubin test, which accounts for instrument strength in determining the statistical significance of the coefficients. These are wider in the models with more controls, although not usually wide enough to move coefficients from statistically significant to statistically insignificant. However, additional complications arise when considering the Hausman tests for endogeneity. The p-values in Table V suggest that around half of the regression specifications in Table IV do not suffer from a lack of exogeneity, meaning that the ordinary least-squares results are just as valid for those specifications. A more serious issue is that the Hausman test rejects the null-hypothesis of exogeneity for four out of nine outcome variables. Combined with the fact that the first-stage F-statistics are concerningly low for the specifications with geographic controls, this means that not only are the ordinary least-squares results likely to be biased, but the instrumental variables estimates are also likely to be imprecise. This is most concerning for the results related to rural consumption and percent of the workforce in agriculture. Conversely, the results for nighttime luminosity are not affected as the Hausman tests do not reject exogeneity for that outcome variable. While we might simply use the ordinary-least squares results to complement those obtained via two-stage least-squares, the latter are lacking in instrument strength. More importantly, the differences in magnitude between the coefficients presented in Table II and in Table IV are too large to allow this use without abandoning consistency in the interpretation of the coefficients. Ultimately, given that the Hausman tests show that instrumentation is at least somewhat necessary, and the actual p-values for the weak-instrument test are still reasonably low (being less than 0.05 even in the worst case), we prefer to uphold the instrumental variables results as imperfect as some of them may be. We argue that it is better to have un- biased estimates from the instrumental variables procedure (IV), even if they may be less unreliable, than to risk biased results due to endogeneity problems present in ordinary least squares (OLS). Table 5 – Instrumental Variables Diagnostics Notes : The weak-instrument test p-value is obtained from comparison of the first-stage F-statistic with the chi- square distribution with degrees of freedom corresponding to the model (number of data points minus number of estimands). Independent variable is number of years in which deviation of rainfall from the historic mean is in the bottom fifteenth-percentile. Control specifications: (a) no controls, (b) land-tenure control (proportion of villages with tenant-ownership land tenure system), (c) geographic controls (see section three for enumeration), (d) both land-tenure and geographic controls. Source : Author calculations. 6. Discussion Our data suggest that there are long-run impacts of historical famines. Tables II, IV, and VII clearly show that the number of historical famines has a[72] [73] [MOU74] statistically significant, though small impact on the following: average level of economic development as approximated by nighttime luminosity, the share of the population employed in cultivation, consumption, inequality, and the provision of medical services in contemporary Indian districts. There appear to be no discernible effects on intergenerational income mobility or basic infrastructure such as electrification. The effects are quite small and are generally overshadowed by other geographical factors such as climate (i.e., latitude and temperature). They are also small in comparison to the impact of other colonial-era policies such as land-tenure systems. Nevertheless, they are still interesting to observe given that the famines in question occurred nearly a hundred years prior to the measurement of the outcomes in question. We contend that they reveal lasting and significant consequences of British food policy in colonial India. Table IV suggests that a hypothetical district having suffered ten famines - which is not atypical in our data - may have developed as much as ninety-four percent more log absolute magnitude per capita, around forty percent less consumption per capita in rural areas , 150% percent more of the workforce employed in cultivation, and a Gini index nearly ten percent greater than a district which suffered no famines. As to the question of whether or not the famines were directly caused by British policy, the results suggest that, at the very least, British nineteenth-century laissez-faire attitudes to disaster management have had long-lasting consequences for India. Moreover, these estimates are causal as the use of rainfall shocks as instruments provides a means of estimation which is “as good as random.” Therefore, we can confidently state that these effects are truly the result of having undergone the observed famines. In considering whether to prefer our instrumental estimates or our least-squares estimates, we must mainly weigh the problems of a potentially weak instrument versus the benefits of a causal interpretation. We argue that we should still trust the IV estimates even though the instrument is not always as strong as we would like. First of all, the instrumentation of the recorded famine data with the demeaned rainfall data provides plausible causal estimation due to the fact that the rainfall measures are truly as good as random. Even if the recorded famine measure is itself reasonably exogenous as suggested by the Hausman tests, we argue that it is better to be sure. Using instruments for a variable which is already exogenous will not introduce additional bias into the results and may even help reduce attenuation bias from any possible measurement error. The Hausman test, after all, can- not completely eliminate this possibility; it can only suggest how likely or unlikely it is. In this sense, the instrumental estimates allow us to be far more confident in our assessment of the presence or absence of the long-run impact of famines. Though the first-stage F-statistics are less than ten, they are still large enough to reject the null hypothesis of instrument weakness as shown by the p-values for this test in Table V. We argue that it is better to be consistent than pick and choose which set of estimates we want to accept for a given dependent variable and model. We made this choice because the differences in magnitude between the IV and OLS coefficients are too large to do otherwise. A more interesting question raised by the reported coefficients in Table II, Table IV, and Table VII has to do with their sign. Why do districts more afflicted historically by famines seem to have more economic development yet worse out- comes in terms of rural consumption and inequality by our models? This could be due to redistributive preferences associated or possibly even caused by famines; Gualtieri et al. pose this hypothesis in their paper on earthquakes in Italy. We note that districts suffering more famines in the colonial era are more “rural” to- day in that they tend to have a greater proportion of their labor force working in cultivation. This cannot be a case of mere association where more rural districts are more susceptible to famine as our instrumental estimates in Table IV suggest otherwise. Rather, we explore the possibility that post-independence land reform in India was greater in relatively more agricultural districts. Much of the literature on land-tenure suggests that redistributing land from large landowners to smaller farmers is associated with positive effects for productivity and therefore, economic development (Iyer and Banerjee 2005, Varghese 2019). If the historical famines are causally associated with districts having less equal land tenure at independence, then this would explain their positive, though small, impact on economic development by way of inducing more land reform in those districts. On the other hand, if they are causally associated with districts remaining more agricultural in character at independence, and a district’s “agriculturalness” is only indirectly associated with land reform (in they only benefit because they have more agricultural land, so they benefit more from the reform), this would indicate that famines have a small and positive impact on economic development through a process that is less directly causal. Although we are unable to observe land-tenure and agricultural occupations immediately at independence, we are able to supplement our data with addition- al state-level observations of land-reform efforts in Indian states from 1957-1992 compiled in Besley and Burgess (2010) and aggregate the district-level observations of famines in our dataset by state (14). If our hypothesis above is correct, then we should see a positive association between the number of historical famines in a state’s districts and the amount of land-reform legislation passed by that state after independence, keeping in mind that provincial and state borders were almost completely reorganized after independence. Although this data is quite coarse, being on the state level, it is widely available. However, the plot below suggests completely the opposite relationship as each additional famine across the state’s districts appears to be associated with nearly 0.73 fewer land-reform acts. Even after removing the outlier of West Bengal, which underwent far more numerous land reforms due to the ascendancy of the Communist Party of India in that state, the relationship is still quite apparent; every two additional famines are associated with almost one fewer piece of land-reform legislation post-independence. Figure 3: Historical Famine Occurrence vs Post-independence land reforms Figure 3 with West Bengal removed Therefore, there seems to be little evidence that famines are associated with land-reforms at all. This is quite puzzling because it is difficult to see how famine occurrence could lead to positive economic development while hurting outcomes such as inequality, consumption, and public goods provision. One potential explanation is that famines lead to higher urban development while hurting rural development, which would suggest a key impact of famine occurrence is the worsening of an urban-rural divide in economic development. This would explain how high er famine occurrence is linked with higher night-time luminosity, which would itself be positively associated with urbanization but is also linked with lower rural consumption, higher inequality (which may be the result of a stronger rural-urban divide), and a higher proportion of the workforce employed in the agricultural sector. For example, it is highly plausible that famines depopulate rural areas, leaving survivors to concentrate in urban centers, where famine relief is more likely to be available. Donaldson and Burgess (2012), who find that historical famine relief tended to be more effective in areas better served by rail networks, support this explanation. At the same time, the population collapse in rural areas would leave most of the workforce employed in subsistence agriculture going forward. Thus, if famines do lead to more people living in urban areas while simultaneously increasing the proportion of the remaining population employed in agriculture, then they would also exacerbate inequality and worsen rural, economic out- comes. If the urbanization effect is of greater magnitude, this would also explain the slight increase in night-time luminosity and electrification. This is somewhat supported by the plots in Figure 4, in which urbanization is defined as the proportion of a district’s population that lives in urban areas as labeled by the census. It appears that urbanization is weakly associated with famine occurrence (especially when using rainfall shocks) and positively associated with nighttime luminosity and inequality while negatively associated with rural consumption and agricultural employment as hypothesized above. However, instrumental estimates of urbanization as a result of famine detailed in Table VI only weakly support the idea that famine occurrence causally impacts urbanization as only the estimation without any controls is statistically significant. Figure 4: Urbanization Rates vs. Famine occurrence and Development outcomes Notes : The first two plots (in the top row) depict urbanization against famine occurrence and negative rainfall shocks. The rest of the plots depict various outcomes (discussed above) against the urbanization rate. Table VI –Urbanization Vs. Famine Occurrence Notes : Independent variable is percent of a district’s population that is urban as defined in the 2011 Indian census. Control specifications: (a) no controls, (b) land-tenure control (proportion of villages with tenant-ownership land tenure system), (c) geographic controls (see section three for enumeration), (d) both land-tenure and geographic controls. Source : Author calculations. *** Significant at the 1 percent level or below (p ≤ 0.01). ** Significant at the 5 percent level (0.01 < p ≤ 0.05). * Significant at the 10 percent level (0.05 < p ≤ 0.1). Nevertheless, this represents a far more likely explanation for our results than land reform, especially since the land reform mechanism implies that famine occurrence would be associated with better rural outcomes. In other words, if famines being associated with land-reform at independence was the real explanation behind our results, because the literature on land-reform suggests that it is linked with improved rural development, we would not expect to see such strongly negative rural impacts of famine in our results. Therefore, not only is the explanation of differential urban versus rural development as a result of famine occurrence better supported by our data, it also constitutes a more plausible explanation for our findings. While we do not have enough data to investigate exactly how famine occurrence seems to worsen urban-rural divides in economic development (for example, rural population collapse as hypothesized above), such a question would certainly be a key area of future study. Conclusion In this paper, we have shown that famines occurring in British India have a statistically significant long-run impact on present-day outcomes by using both ordinary least-squares as well as instrumenting for famine with climate shocks in the form of deviated rainfall. In particular, the occurrence of famine seems to ex- acerbate a rural-urban divide in economic development. Famines appear to cause a small increase in overall economic development, but lower consumption and welfare in rural areas while also worsening wealth inequality. This is supported by the finding that famines appear to lead to slightly higher rates of urbanization while simultaneously leading to a higher proportion of a district’s labor force remaining employed in the agricultural sector. Even though our ordinary-least squares measures are generally acceptable, we point to the similar instrumental variable estimates as stronger evidence of the causal impact of the famines. Ultimately, our results demonstrate that negative cli- mate shocks combined with certain disaster management policies, such as British colonial laissez-faire approaches to famine in India, may have significant, though counter-intuitive, impacts on economic outcomes in the long-run. Endnotes 1 One can essentially understand this technique as manipulating the independent variable, which may not be randomly assigned, via a randomly assigned instrument. 2 The Gini index measures the distribution of wealth or income across individuals, with a score of zero corresponding to perfectly equal distribution and a score of one corresponding to a situation where one individual holds all of the wealth or earns all of the income in the group. 3 The Durbin-Wu-Hausman test essentially asks whether adding the instrument changes bias in the model . A rejection of the null hypothesis implies that differences in coefficients between OLS and IV are due to adding the instrument, whereas the null hypothesis assumes that the independent variable(s) are already exogenous and so adding an instrument contributes no new information to the model. 4 Attenuation bias occurs when there is measurement error in the independent variable, which biases estimates downward due to the definition of the least-squares estimator as one which minimizes squared error on the axis of the dependent variable. See Durbin (1954) for a detailed discussion. 5 Classical growth theory, such as in the Solow-Swan (1957) and Romer (1994) implies long-run convergence and therefore that districts would have similar outcomes today regardless of the number of famines they underwent. However, this is at odds with most of the empirical literature as discussed previously, in which there are often measurable long-term effects to natural disasters. 6 A Poisson process models count data via a random variable following a Poisson distribution. 7 Although we use the term damage, the impact to the economy need not be negative – indeed, we find that some impacts of famine occurrence are positive in sections four and five, which we attempt to explain in section seven. 8 Normally, OLS assumes that the variance of the error term is not correlated with the independent variable(s) i.e the errors are homoscedastic. If this is not true, i.e the errors are heteroscedastic, then the standard errors will be too small. Robust least-squares estimation calculates the OLS standard errors in a way that does not depend on the assumption that the errors are homoscedastic. 9 So, for example, if this value is 25, then there is on average no mobility on average, as sons would be expected to remain in the same income percentile as their fathers. Similarly, if it is less than (greater than) 25, then there would be downward (upward) mobility. A value of 50 would indicate perfect mobility, i.e no relationship between fathers’ income percentiles and those of their sons. 10 For a brief overview of the types of systems employed by the East India Company and Crown administrators, see Iyer and Banerjee (2008), or see Tirthankar (2006) for a more detailed discussion. 11 While reduced form estimates–that is, estimating the outcomes as direct functions of the exogenous variables rather than via a structural process–are often not directly interpretable, they can serve to confirm the underlying trends in the data (for example, via the sign of the coefficients), which is why we choose to include them here. 12 The Sargan-Hansen test works very similarly to the Durbin-Wu-Hausman test, but instead uses a quadratic form on the cross-product of the residuals and instruments. 13 To be precise, this heuristic is technically only valid with the use of a single instrument, which is of course satisfied in our case anyway. 14 To be clear, the value of famine for each state is technically the average number of famines in the historical districts that are presently part of the state, since subnational boundaries were drastically reorganized along linguistic lines after independence. 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- Can Pascal Convert the Libertine? An Analysis of the Evaluative Commitment Entailed by Pascal's Wager
Neti Linzer Can Pascal Convert the Libertine? An Analysis of the Evaluative Commitment Entailed by Pascal's Wager Neti Linzer While Pascal’s wager is commonly approached as a stand-alone decision theoretic problem, there is also a crucial evaluative component to his argument that adds oft-overlooked complexities. Though we can formulate a response to these challenges by drawing on other sections of the Pensées, an examination of an argument from Walter Kaufmann highlights enduring difficulties with this response, leading to the conclusion that Pascal lacks the resources to convincingly appeal to the libertine’s self-interest. I. Introduction Pascal’s wager, an argument due to the 17th-century mathematician and philosopher, Blaise Pascal, is generally analyzed as a self-contained, formalizable problem, embodying one of the first applications of decision theory (1). In short, it calculates the expected utility of believing in God against that of not believing, and concludes that, inasmuch as rationality entails maximizing expected utility, i.e. making the decision that will most likely lead to the most preferable outcome, it is rational for us to believe in God (2). This is a “wager” insofar as we cannot know with certainty that God exists, and the most we can do is gamble on the fact that He does. But what I will argue is that the wager argument presupposes a certain evaluative commitment, which Pascal’s targeted audience, the ‘libertine,’ notably lacks (3). The libertine is someone who does not believe in God, and whose value system is instead oriented towards earthly, bodily, happiness. I claim that for someone thus constituted, Pascal’s wager fails to be convincing. The wager, however, is only one part of Pascal’s never-finished apologetic project, the preliminary notes of which are organized in the Pensées, meaning ‘Thoughts.’ I will show that if we examine some of the other arguments Pascal makes throughout the Pensées, then we can formulate a response to this objection on Pascal’s behalf. As Pascal describes her, the libertine is deeply unhappy when she thinks about the contingencies of the human condition, and she therefore values activities which entertain her and divert her from these disturbing thoughts. In his description of the libertine’s condition, Pascal p erforms something of a Nietzschean style ‘revaluation’ of this approach to life: it includes a destructive phase—in which Pascal argues that the libertine’s values are based on false p resuppositions—followed by a constructive phase—in which Pascal presents the libertine with a more attractive evaluative framework. Once she is in this new cognitive space, the libertine is p repared to be persuaded by the wager. I argue, however, that inasmuch as there are alternative ways for the libertine to revalue her mortality, Pascal fails to make an argument that will necessarily appeal to her self-interest. Drawing on the work of the 20th-century philosopher Walter Kaufmann, I argue that the libertine can instead revalue her mortality by embracing it, by recognizing the way in which the fact of her death is precisely what makes her life worthwhile. And while Kaufman’s approach certainly might also fail to be convincing it at least offers a viable alternative, and has two advantages over Pascal’s: (i) it draws on known facts (our mortality) rather than theoretical possibilities (an immortal soul), and it does not require any kind of wager. The upshot is that, while thedestructive phase of Pascal’s ‘revaluation’ may have been successful, the success of the constructive phase is dubious. As an appeal to the libertine’s self-interest, the wager falls short. The first section of this paper presents the objection to Pascal’s argument, the second section develops a response on Pascal's behalf, and the final section presents enduring difficulties with Pascal’s argument by introducing Kaufmann’s alternative approach. II. The Libertine’s Objection to Pascal’s Wager Crucially, Pascal’s wager is written in a language that the libertine will understand—the language of self-interest. We can summarize Pascal’s argument by saying that the libertine’s current lifestyle can, at most, offer her finite happiness: “what you are staking is finite.” If she gambles on belief in God, however, then the libertine opens herself up to the possibility of gaining infinite reward, and, as Pascal puts it, “all bets are off wherever there is an infinity.” As long as there are not infinitely greater chances that God doesn’t exist, than that God does exist, then, Pascal urges the libertine that, “there is no time to hesitate, you must give everything.” Pascal thereby appeals to the libertine’s instrumental rationality by identifying what it is that the libertine intrinsically desires—namely, her own “beatitude” (4)—and then by arguing that in order to truly satisfy this desire, the libertine must wager on belief in God (5). But there is a catch: the infinite happiness guaranteed by God is incomparable to any form of finite happiness that the libertine now enjoys. This is certainly true after the libertine accepts the wager, since belief in God demands that the libertine radically transform her lifestyle, substituting the dictates of her own will for the dictates of God’s. But I will argue that choosing to accept the wager requires the libertine to undergo what is arguably an even more dramatic transformation: she must transform her value system. This is because the wager does not just promise the libertine more happiness, but rather, it promises her qualitatively different happiness. And the wager only works if the libertine values this sort of happiness. It is true that Pascal never specifies what he means by “an infinite life of infinite happiness,” but inasmuch as he believes that it is the result of a life of faith, we can assume that he is referring to a traditional Catholic conception of heaven. Consider, then, the following reply in the mouth of Pascal’s libertine: an infinite life with God sounds absolutely miserable! First of all, inasmuch as my happiness is derived, at least in part, from the enjoyment of bodily pleasures, I cannot imagine being happy without my body. Happiness means hunting expeditions, games of cards, lavish feasts, and good company—where can I find those in heaven? Moreover, God promises to unite with believers in heaven. But why should I want to unite with God? You are offering me something that satisfies absolutely none of my desires. My life would not be better if God existed, even, (and this is crucial), if God rewarded me as a believer! Pascal’s wager works by presenting the libertine with a gamble: if God exists, there will be infinite happiness for those who believe and infinite misery for those who do not. This is because God promises to reward believers by uniting with them in heaven, and punishing non-believers by burning, or otherwise punishing them, in hell. But from the libertine’s perspective, there is no gamble: the prospects of heaven and hell are both unattractive, and since we are dealing with infinite amounts of time, they are both infinitely distressing prospects. There is therefore nothing worth gambling on. We might try to assure the libertine that once she is a believer, she will desire eternal life in heaven. We often persuade people to do something by promising that they might enjoy it, even if right now they cannot understand why. To take a mundane example, you might happily follow the recommendation of a friend to try a new food, even if you cannot imagine what it would be like to eat it. True, the stakes of this decision are qualitatively lower, but the same epistemic uncertainty seems to be at play: you cannot know whether you appreciate this food until you taste it, and you also cannot know whether you value a relationship with God until you attempt to build one. Inasmuch as wagering on the food does not involve any sort of evaluative transformation on your part, wagering on God might be the same way. But, there is a disanalogy between the two cases. Pascal is presenting the libertine with a certain decision matrix in which Pascal assigns an infinitely positive value to heaven and an infinitely negative value to hell (6). In order for the libertine to assign the same values to the given outcomes in the matrix, she must transform her evaluative framework, so that this-worldly happiness is no longer her highest value. The case of the new food, however, does not require a transformation of this sort. You know that you will either like or dislike the food, and you know that you value eating food that you like and disvalue eating foods that you do not like. Of course, there is still a gamble involved in trying the food since it is impossible to know how you will feel about its taste (7).But crucially, this puts you in a position that is analogous to the libertine considering Pascal’s wager only provided that she has already made the necessary evaluative transformation. It does not put you into the position of a standard libertine, who values her current happiness above all else, and therefore does not see anything to gamble for. Let’s describe a case that would be more analogous to the wager. Henrietta is a principled ascetic, meaning that she values abstention from earthly pleasures to whatever extent possible. As such, she adheres to a strict diet of only bread and water. She has sworn off earthly pleasures and adheres to a strict diet of bread and water. Suppose that her cousin, Henry, a food connoisseur, wants to convince her to try some caviar. He knows that he has never tasted caviar before, but he argues that, given her expected utility calculations, those who eat caviar enjoy it so much that he stands to gain more than lose from trying the caviar. But of course, even if Henrietta thought that Henry’s calculations were correct, they would be meaningless to her. As a matter of principle, she does not value the sensual pleasure provided by eating delicious food. Therefore, the experience of enjoying the food might be even more negative for Henrietta than the experience of disliking it, inasmuch as she has moral disdain for sensual pleasure. Henry’s calculations will only be persuasive if Henrietta abandons her current ascetic values and adopts a more hedonistic lifestyle. This is similar to the situation that the libertine finds herself in when presented with Pascal’s wager. Just as it would be meaningless to convince Henrietta to eat caviar by convincing her to abandon her ascetic lifestyle, to suggest that the libertine will desire heaven if she is a believing Christian is to reformulate the challenge rather than to address it. By formulating the libertine’s challenge this way, we realize just what Pascal’s wager requires: before the libertine can decide to wager on God’s existence, she must first revolutionize her evaluative framework, performing what the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would refer to as a “revaluation of values,” i.e. a complete reversal of her normative commitments. At present, a religious lifestyle is not in the libertine’s self-interest; the libertine’s conception of happiness is tethered to her physical existence in this world, and therefore she will not be moved by promises of her soul being rewarded in another world. Now that we have established that the libertine must be induced to reassess her values before she can be persuaded to wager on God’s existence we must ask: does Pascal present the libertine with such an argument? III. Pascal’s Revaluation There is an inherent challenge in trying to influence someone to “revalue their values”: namely, identifying which values one can appeal to in formulating the argument. Generally, pragmatic arguments like Pascal’s wager take the agent’s values as a starting point, and then proceed to demonstrate that a certain action will do a better job at furthering the agent’s values. But if we use values as a starting point, how can we cogently provide someone with practical reasons to adopt a wholly new evaluative framework, without invoking the very values that they do not yet possess? To see how we might formulate a “revaluation” without recourse to other values, we can draw inspiration from Friedrich Nietzsche, whose philosophical undertaking was just that: a revaluation of all values. In his work, Nietzsche’s Revaluation of Values: A Study in Strategies, contemporary Nietzsche scholar, E.E. Sleinis, analyzes the various strategies that Nietzsche uses to achieve his evaluative revolution. One strategy that he discusses, “destruction from within,” undermines a certain value by revealing that it is internally inconsistent (8). This undermines the value on its own terms. There are a few different permutations of this strategy. One, which Sleinis refers to as “false presuppositions,” aims to show that “the value requires a fact to obtain that, as it turns out, fails to obtain.” In attacking the factual, rather than the evaluative component of the value system, Nietzsche is able to undermine it from within, without recourse to other values. For example, Nietzsche devalues “disinterested contemplation as the ideal of aesthetic contemplation” by arguing that humans are simply incapable of disinterested contemplation. We cannot disengage from our passions, emotions, and other interests when we contemplate works of art. “We can put this point in more graphic terms,” explains Sleinis, by arguing that “the pure aesthetic contemplator is a fiction" (9). In what follows, I will demonstrate how Pascal launches a similar attack on the libertine’s value system by arguing, in a parallel manner, that the happy libertine is a fiction. As mentioned, the wager is merely a part of Pascal’s broader apologetic project, and it is within this broader project that Pascal employs this Nietzschean revaluation strategy. There are many notes in the Pensées devoted to bemoaning the wretchedness of the libertine’s condition, and arguing that man simply cannot be happy without God. And while we do not know where Pascal would have placed these ideas (if at all) in his final work, we can still argue that, Pascal’s intentions aside, they do an excellent job preparing the libertine to be receptive to the wager. Once Pascal convinces the libertine that her approach to life was premised on a false presupposition, he is able to urge her to gamble on a new one. Pascal undermines the libertine’s approach to life—happiness derived from entertainment or diversions as the ideal of happiness—in the same way that Nietzsche undermines disinterested contemplation as the ideal of aesthetic contemplation: he shows that humans are incapable of achieving happiness through their diversions (10). While traces of this argument are evident throughout the Pensées , Pascal’s most sustained argument for it appears in his section “Diversions.” After examining this argument, we will turn to the possibility of an alternative response on behalf of the libertine in the spirit of philosopher Walter Kaufmann. Pascal presents us with an imagined dialogue, presumably between a believer and a libertine, in which the libertine explains her approach to life: “is not happiness the ability to be amused by diversion?”(11). For the libertine, to be happy is to be entertained. We can understand some of the more perplexing behaviors of people if we realize that their underlying motivation is to divert and entertain themselves: “those who philosophize about it, and who think people are quite unreasonable to spend a whole day chasing a hare they would not have bought, scarcely know our nature.” People do not hunt because they want the kill, but rather, because hunting provides them with entertainment. Pascal argues that all men, even kings who are in “the finest position of the world,” are miserable, “if they are without what is called diversion” (12). The reason that we value diversion, explains Pascal, is because it allows us to avoid confronting all of the unpleasant features of our condition. We do not seek “easy and peaceful lives,” because those would force us to think about “our unhappy condition” (13). The “unhappy” quality of our condition is delineated in the believer’s reply to the libertine; the libertine asks whether happiness is not the ability to be amused by diversions, to which the believer replies, “No, because that comes from elsewhere and from outside, and thus it is dependent, and subject to be disturbed by a thousand accidents which cause inevitable distress” (14). All of the activities with which the libertine happily amuses herself are all highly contingent, and are made easily inaccessible by any number of factors that are necessarily out of the libertine’s control. Moreover, all of the libertine’s amusements are necessarily ephemeral, so that even if they are miraculously undisturbed by illness or accident, they will inevitably be disturbed by death. This is the primary source of the libertine’s inconsolable misery in Pascal’s conception—no matter how much happiness she derives from her activities in this world, her impending death constantly threatens to rob her of everything. As Pascal puts it, man “wants to be happy, wants only to be happy, and cannot want not to be so. But how will he go about it? The best way would be to render herself immortal, but since he cannot do this, he has decided to prevent himself from thinking about it” (15). Thoughts of mortality thwart the libertine’s ability to enjoy the world around, and so the libertine blocks out these thoughts with diversions. In Pascal’s example, the libertine hunts vigorously for a hare that he would never buy, because while “the hare does not save us from the sight of death...the hunt does” (16). All of this explains how Pascal can argue, in the spirit of Nietzsche, that valuing the happiness derived from diversions as the ideal of happiness falsely assumes that humans can find happiness in diversions. Pascal demonstrates that they cannot. Our diversions are inevitably “subjected to be disturbed by a thousand accidents, and this causes inevitable distress” (17). Crucially, the distress is inevitable ; even if we spend most of our time completely amused by diversions, the fact that our source of happiness is external and contingent puts us in a constant state of instability. We are rendered eternally dependent on factors beyond our control and are therefore powerless to console ourselves in the face of adversity unless the universe conspires to offer us diversion. We might wonder if Pascal’s case is overstated. Couldn’t the libertine seek happiness through something more substantial than a mere “diversion,” like, for example, self-fulfillment? I think that for Pascal the answer is no. This is because death robs any pursuit–even the pursuit of self-fulfillment–of enduring meaning. As Pascal puts it: “the final act is bloody, however fine the rest of the play. In the end, they throw some earth over our head, and that is it forever” (18). The libertine can only be satisfied if she does not think about the “final act” that will undermine “the rest of the play,” and because of this, all of her pursuits, even those that appear most meaningful, are really attempts to distract herself from this sobering fact. Pascal suggests that if the libertine actually confronted the truth of her condition, she would desist from all of her pursuits–even her desire for self-fulfillment–because they would no longer mean anything. That the libertine seeks to distract herself from the contingency of her condition with something that is itself contingent, is, I think, sufficient to undermine the libertine’s approach to life. But Pascal goes even deeper in exposing the problems with the libertine’s approach. He writes that, “The only thing that consoles us for our miseries is diversion, and yet this is the greatest of our miseries. For it is mainly what prevents us from thinking about ourselves, leading us imperceptibly to our ruin” (19). The libertine’s pursuit of diversions makes genuine self-knowledge impossible—if she is always distracting herself, she will never take the time to understand herself and her condition, and search for a more reliable and stable form of happiness. How can we say that someone is happier the more diverted they are, if someone who is diverted is also wholly alienated from herself? (20). It is this consideration that motivates Pascal’s famous observation that, “man’s unhappiness arises from one thing alone: that he cannot remain quietly in his room” (21). As Pascal sees it, diversion as source of true happiness–much like Nietzsche’s detached contemplation–is, indeed, a fiction. Pascal has induced a value crisis in the libertine by rendering what she previously valued—the amusements of earthly life—fundamentally meaningless. So what now? Left to live without diversion, Pascal explains, “we would be bored, and this boredom would lead us to seek a more solid means of escape” (22). I will argue that Pascal asking the seeking libertine to consider the possibility of an immortal soul is, in a certain sense, similar, to Nietzsche’s imagined demon presenting the possibility of eternal recurrence–i.e the doctrine that our live will be repeated infinitely many times into the future. Nietzsche presents this as a mere possibility , the consideration of which is nonetheless capable of inspiring an evaluative transformation in his readers (23). Entertaining the possibility of eternal recurrence hopefully inspires us to seek meaning in the lives that we are living on earth, rather than placing all of our hopes on a life after death. Analogously, before the wager, Pascal does not expect the libertine to believe in the immortal soul as a metaphysical fact , but he nonetheless presents it to her as an attractive possibility, powerful enough to reorient her life. If the possibility of an immortal soul isn’t even on her radar, then the wager argument cannot even get off the ground. But Pascal believes that considering this possibility will induce the libertine to seek God, the wager will then point out that doing so maximizes her expected utility, and eventually she will be certain of God’s existence (24). What makes the libertine’s condition so unhappy are all of the external threats that face her at every moment, the most debilitating of which is her own death (25). The libertine’s old approach was to avoid confronting this reality. As Pascal puts it, “as men are not able to fight against death...they have it into their heads, in order to be happy, not to think of them at all.”What Pascal offers the libertine is a solution that is truly sustainable: instead of valuing distractions from our mortality, we can value that which denies it altogether . We can reject that part of us that gets piled with dirt, since it can only make us unhappy, and instead we can embrace our immortal soul (26). Pascal presents this as a dazzling, metamorphic possibility, writing that “the immortality of the soul is something so important to us, something that touches us so profoundly, that we must have lost all feeling to be indifferent to knowing the facts of the matter” (27). Inspired by the possibility of an immortal soul, we are primed to be receptive to the wager, which tells us that if we want to maximize the expected outcome for our soul, we must gamble on God’s existence (28). If we now believe that it is through taking care of our immortal soul that we can transcend the misery of our bodily condition, the wager will indeed have a powerful pull on us. Inasmuch as the libertine’s challenge is escaping the misery of her contingent condition, Pascal presents the possibility of the immortal soul as a powerful alternative to the use of amusements and diversions. But is this alternative persuasive? The weakness in Pascal’s argument is noted by Sleinis in his analysis of Nietzsche’s parallel argument: “pure possibilities may have some capacity to exert pressure on our choices, but this capacity can in no way be equal to that of known actualities” (29). There is, however, a limit to how influential a mere possibility can be. If you know that a certain consideration that is motivating you to act, is only possibly true, then you won’t feel like you have a decisive reason to act. Pascal is confident that if we take the possibility of an immortal soul seriously, then we will eventually be led to believe it as an actuality. The problem, however, is whether we can take it seriously enough for this epistemic transformation to occur. This doesn’t mean that Pascal’s argument can not work at all, it just means that its practical success will likely be limited to libertines with certain psychological constitutions (i.e. it will be more persuasive to someone with a credulous disposition than to someone with a skeptical disposition). IV. Walter Kaufmann on Our Misery So far, we have seen that Pascal’s wager requires a certain evaluative shift on the part of the libertine, and that certain sections of the Pensées can be read as making an argument for that shift. But there is a weakness to part of this argument, namely, the plausibility that a mere possibility can inspire a dramatic revaluation. What I would like to consider, therefore, is an alternative response to the libertine’s crisis of value that would allow her to retain her current theoretical framework, but nonetheless allow her to transcend the apparent miseries of the human condition. We can read Kaufmann as addressing the libertine at the same stage that Pascal is—once she has accepted the futility of her diversions but does not know how else to cope with her unhappy condition—and arguing that the libertine can embrace her mortality rather than try to escape from it. Examining Kaufmann’s argument helps us to appreciate the way in which Pascal’s wager falls short as a straightforward appeal to the libertine’s self-interest. At most, the wager offers the libertine one way to escape her misery, but the libertine may find Kaufmann’s ideas more persuasive. While for Pascal, the libertine is unhappy if she is left to ponder her mortal condition, Kaufmann argues that this is not so; in fact, it is our mortality that renders our lives here worthwhile. The libertine considers herself miserable because she will not live in this worldforever, but Kaufmann urges her to consider how miserable she would be if she did . It's true that death is frightening for those who “fritter their lives away,” but “if one lives intensely, the time comes when sleep seems bliss” (30). Meaning, that if the libertine embraces all that this-life throws at him, then she will welcome death as a much-needed rest. One cannot live intensely forever. This argument might seem a bit problematic. After all, it is not clear why a simple good night’s sleep (or two) would not suffice for the one who lives intensely—why should she crave eternal sleep? The answer to this lies in the second argument that Kaufmann makes, namely, that without an eternal deadline we would not be able to live our lives as meaningfully. Our impending death offers a perspective that would otherwise be impossible. Kaufmann describes the way in which the threat of death motivates us to live vigorously: “the life I want is a life I could not endure in eternity. It is a life of love and intensity, suffering and creation, that makes life worthwhile and death welcome.” Death “makes life worthwhile” b ecause it encourages us to carve out lives that are indeed worthwhile. For example, “love can be deepened and made more intense and impassioned by the expectation of impending death,” meaning that our desire to be with someone we love is made all the more acute by our knowledge that we cannot be with them forever. When the libertine worries about the fact that she may one day lose her beloved, she need not retreat from these thoughts—either by seeking diversion or by entertaining the possibility of an immortal soul—but rather, as Kaufmann advises, she should embrace them. The fact that she may never see her beloved again is all the more reason for the libertine to express her love more eloquently and fervently than she ever would have if she was not worried about losing her beloved. It is not just that such intensity and p assion would be impossible to sustain in an infinite life, but rather that in an infinite life we could never achieve it in the first place. Death offers a perspective on life that, contrary to what Pascal argues, makes our lives in this world vibrant and precious. Pascal writes that, “As men have not been able to cure death, wretchedness, ignorance, they have decided, in order to be happy, not to think about those things” (31). But Kaufmann argues that it is precisely by thinking about her own death that the libertine can be inspired to live in a way that makes her happy. Perhaps this is why Ecclesiastes muses that “it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting”—proximity to death provides the living with an invaluable lesson to truly “take to heart” (32). The libertine desperately avoids confronting her mortality, when in fact, thinking about death makes her life better right now: “one lives better” says Kaufmann, “when one expects to die,” and takes advantage of the time she has (33). This is not to deny the tragic reality that death often visits too early, but rather, to suggest that inasmuch as this is not always the case, we are, as philosopher Bernard Williams puts it, “lucky in having the chance to die” (34). Pascal might still counter that even if contemplating our death imbues our lives with urgency and significance, belief in the Christian afterlife also accomplishes this inasmuch as our conduct in this life determines how we fare in the next. But this argument will have no sway over the libertine at the stage of the argument at which we are now encountering him—when she does not yet believe in God. And what Kaufmann’s argument has demonstrated is that the libertine does not need to wager on God’s existence in order to live life meaningfully and passionately. While the Wager asked the libertine to revalue her values–which, as we have seen, is a non-trivial requirement–Kaufmann speaks directly to the evaluative commitments that the libertine already has. In a way, Kaufmann uses mortality in the same way that Pascal uses immortality: to redeem us from our misery by impressing upon us the urgency and significance of our lives. It’s true that Kaufmann and Williams don’t consider the possibility of an afterlife that is equally as exciting–if not more exciting–than earthly existence. There is, after all, no reason to assume that when we die we lose our ability to exercise agency. But the point is simply that they offer a way of seeing life on earth as meaningful regardless of what comes afterward. This is in sharp contrast with Pascal’s picture in which life on earth is miserable unless it is redeemed by belief in the afterlife. This is not to say that Pascal is wrong per sé; it is possible that Kaufmann would have lived a better life had he sought God and embraced religion. It is possible that he is currently b urning in the depths of hell, wishing his philosophical reasoning had taken a different turn. But this is of no consequence. What I am arguing is that Pascal is wrong to assume that the libertine’s mortality leaves her irredeemably miserable; Kaufmann offers an alternative perspective, whereby the libertine’s mortality is precisely what redeems her life and makes it worthwhile. Crucially, Kaufmann’s argument does not ask the libertine to entertain any theoretical p ossibilities like Pascal’s does, and it never requires that she make a wager of any sort. The libertine might still prefer Pascal’s argument, and therefore choose to see “the final act” as “bloody.” But as we have seen, she might choose to welcome death as a “blissful sleep.” And if Pascal cannot convince the libertine that mortal life is miserable, then he cannot get her into the evaluative mindset to be receptive to the wager. V. Conclusion The success of Pascal’s wager as an appeal to the libertine’s self-interest depends on his ability to convince the libertine to change her evaluative framework. At least at the outset, the possibility of an infinite life with God in heaven will repel rather than attract the libertine, giving her no reason to “wager all she has” (35). If we study the wager against the backdrop of Pascal’s broader apologetic project, however, we find the resources to persuade the libertine to “revalue her values.” This argument takes place in two stages. First, Pascal shows the libertine that the premium she places on amusements and entertainment falsely presupposes that they can truly make her happy. Pascal argues that they fail to do so, both because they are external—and therefore “subject to a thousand accidents”—and because they alienate the libertine from herself, making it impossible for her to discover what might truly make her happy. With the libertine’s evaluative framework thus dismantled, the inherent unhappiness of her condition becomes even more acute. Without diversions, she must confront the miserable fact of her mortality head-on. It is in this evaluative vacuum that Pascal offers her a new value that can save her from the misery of mortality: the immortal soul. At this stage of the argument, the libertine will not believe in the immortality of her soul as a metaphysical fact, but in considering this marvelous possibility, she will be encouraged to investigate it. And when Pascal tells her that her soul will fare best if she gambles on God’s existence, she will eagerly oblige. But this need not be the only way to save the libertine from the misery of mortality: Kaufmann suggests that the libertine should embrace and cherish her mortality because it is through the prism of her own death that her life becomes urgent and precious. This approach does not require an epistemic leap of faith like Pascal’s did; it simply requires the libertine to look at the fact of her life in a new light. The upshot is that for those who find themselves moved by Pascal’s polemic against diversions, but unmoved by her appeal to dubious metaphysical facts, there might be a more attractive solution. After he presents the libertine with her wager, Pascal urges that “there is no time to hesitate!” From what we have seen, however, there might be far too much of it. Endnotes: 1 This insight is due to Ian Hacking, quoted in: Hájek, Alan. “Pascal's Wager.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy , Stanford University, 1 Sept. 2017, plato.stanford.edu/entries/pascal-wager/. 2 While, as Hajek notes in her article, Pascal actually presents three different wager arguments, for the purposes of this paper, I will not discuss the correct interpretation/presentation of the wager. This is because my paper is not so much about the mechanics of the wager, but about the wager as a general strategy to inspire pragmatic commitment to God. 3 For the purposes of this paper, I adopt Pascal’s use of the term “libertine” to refer to his intended audience. This is partially for convenience, and partially meant to underscore that Pascal’s argument is addressed to a specific target audience and is not necessarily applicable to anyone who does not believe in God. As we will see throughout this paper, Pascal’s libertine has a very specific set of values and concern, which at times may even seem unrealistic. Inasmuch as Pascal sees himself as addressing this sort of person, however, this paper will assume that his observations are accurate, and analyze whether Pascal’s argument is successful on Pascal’s own terms. 4 All quotations in this paragraph come from: Pascal, Blaise, and Roger Ariew. Pensées. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Pub. Co., 2005 pg. 212-13 (S680/L418). 5 Pascal actually argues that there are two things that the libertine desires: the true and the good. However, Pascal argues that we cannot know whether God exists, and therefore “your reason is no more offended by choosing one rather than the other.” Since the libertine only stands to gain in the realm of happiness, and not in the realm of truth (or at least not yet), I focus, for brevity, only on this claim. 6 This is a simplification. Pascal does not mention exactly how we ought to quantify the harm that will come to a non-believer if God exists. It is certainly possible that the harm will be infinite. And since this is the strongest way to formulate Pascal’s wager, I choose to present it this way. 7 The case of trying a new food is interesting in its own right. While it is beyond the scope of this paper to analyze this case, it is worth noting that it is unclear how one might weigh the value of trying a food and disliking it against the value of trying a food and liking it, since there are also different degrees of liking and disliking a food. But I think it is fair to assume that, having had the experience of eating foods that you’ve liked and disliked, you can have a rough sense of the maximum and minimum amount of pleasure that can be derived from eating a food. I would venture to say that trying a food that you love more than any food you have ever eaten, is still not a qualitatively different type of pleasure than eating a food that you really love. 8 Sleinis, E. E. Nietzsche's Revaluation of Values: A Study in Strategies. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1994, pg. 168. 9 Ibid. 10 As Ariew notes in his translation, “the word ‘diversion’suggests entertainment, but to divert literally means: “to turn away” or to mislead.” By using this word, Pascal makes his critique implicit from the beginning. 11 Pascal, S165/L132. 12 Quotations in this paragraph come from Pascal, S168/L136. 13 Ibid. 14 Pascal, S165/L132. 15 Pascal, S166/L134. 16 Pascal, S168/L136. 17 Pascal, S165/L132. 18 Pascal S197/L165. 19 Pascal, S33/L414. 20 The libertine says something in this spirit in Pascal, S165/L132. 21 Pascal S168/L136. 22 Pascal, S33/L414. 23 In some interpretations of Nietzsche, the eternal recurrence is actually presented as a metaphysical truth that we must believe in. Inasmuch as I am looking for an example that will parallel Pascal, however, I have chosen to discuss the interpretation that sees it as a pure possibility. 24 Evidence that Pascal believes those who are inspired by the possibility of an immortal soul and genuinely seek God as a result will come to have sure knowledge of her existence can be found in S681/L427. 25 This is not intended to summarize Pascal’s nuanced account of why we are wretched, but rather to encapsulate what it is that the libertine recognizes as “unhappy” about her condition: that is, all of the external factors that threaten her ability to enjoy diversions, the most intractable of which is death. 26 This might seem almost like a pre-wager-wager: wager on belief in an immortal soul, since it provides the potential for immortality rather than on the belief in a mortal soul, since this will lead to a life of misery. 27 Pascal S681/L427. 28 Of course, it is possible that there are other belief systems which include the notion of an immortal soul in an equally attractive way. This is similar to the well-known “many Gods objection” to Pascal’s wager, and while addressing it is not the subject of this paper, it is worth noting its presence. When I argue later on that the argument can work, I mean that, leaving other considerations such as this objection aside, it can work. 29 Sleinis, pg. 173. 30 Kaufmann, Walter, and Immanuel Velikovsky. The Faith of a Heretic. [1st ed.] Garden City, N.Y: Doubleday, 1961 , pg . 386. 31 Pascal S168. 32 Ecclesiastes 7:2. 33 Quotations in this paragraph come from Kaufmann, pg. 386. 34 Williams, Bernard. “The Makropulos Case: Reflections on the Tedium of Immortality.” Chapter. In Problems of the Self: Philosophical Papers 1956–1972 , 82–100. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973. 35 Pascal, S680/L418. Bibliography: Kaufmann, Walter, and Immanuel Velikovsky. The Faith of a Heretic. [1st ed.] Garden City, N.Y: Doubleday, 1961 . Pascal, Blaise, and Roger Ariew. Pensées. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Pub. Co., 2005. Sleinis, E. E. Nietzsche's Revaluation of Values: A Study in Strategies. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1994. Williams, Bernard. “The Makropulos Case: Reflections on the Tedium of Immortality.” Chapter. In Problems of the Self: Philosophical Papers 1956–1972 , 82–100. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973. Previous Next
- The Growing Incoherence of Our Higher Values
Aash Mukerji The Growing Incoherence of Our Higher Values Aash Mukerji Nihilism is perhaps the most commonly misunderstood notion in Friedrich Nietzsche’s writings. Not only do many wrongly believe Nietzsche to advocate for nihilistic behavior, but many also see nihilism as the loss of all value and synonymous with the belief that everything is meaningless and valueless. In reality, Nietzsche defines severe nihilism as “the conviction of the absolute untenability of existence when it comes to the highest values that are acknowledged”(1). For Nietzsche, nihilism thus does not necessarily reduce the individual to a living lump of ennui. Rather than lacking all value judgements, Nietzsche portrays nihilism as a condition characterized by the absence of justifiable higher values. This supposed depletion in justification comes from Nietzsche’s infamous assertion of the death of God; Nietzsche held that modern science has made “belief in the Christian God unbelievable” (2). Nietzsche believed that without divine reasons to cherish our higher values, we would ultimately lose them entirely. Moreover, Nietzsche characterizes nihilism primarily as a cultural phenomenon—the societal loss of higher values precedes and causes the affective individual symptoms of nihilism. Nietzsche sees this cultural wave of nihilism as a looming threat; he predicts that humanity is on the brink of succumbing, to becoming nothing more than a group of “last men” Last men are characterized by the aforementioned deficiency in higher values, effectively rendering them incapable of justifying any goals that do not immediately benefit them (3). Nietzsche makes the impending nature of nihilism clear in Zarathustra , where the titular character is confronted by a chorus of individuals who actually wish to become last men (4). Nietzsche’s assertion of the imminence of nihilism was something of great interest to me as it seems that, even in the last two hundred odd years, our higher values have not been lost entirely. Nonetheless, I was not ready to entirely discount Nietzsche’s worries concerning our higher values, and this paper discusses a different manner in which our relationship with them may be deteriorating. In the wake of the death of God, what we are losing may not be our higher values themselves, but instead the unifying principles that require consistency and soundness among them. I will argue that we are progressing towards a world where our higher values are maintained but do not necessitate coherence in order to inform and justify our actions. Indeed, some incoherent higher values evidently already enjoy primacy over other kinds of values. I will attempt to demonstrate this by showing that, though contemporary society has preserved various higher values, individuals and communities frequently act in ways that conflict with those values without recognizing any logical inconsistency. This implies that what is missing from our higher values is the necessity for harmony with our actions and the other values we hold. In this paper, I will discuss some ideologies maintained today that seem to fit the characterization of higher values but conflict with our day-to-day activities and other values. I will attempt to supply some explanation for what causes this incoherence both through a Nietzschean lens and through the analysis of media culture within the framework of Jean Baudrillard. I believe both perspectives provide valuable insight into the mechanics of what is going on. Throughout this paper, I essentially seek to prove that we have retained our higher values but are losing their coherence and structure. First and foremost, we must establish some higher values that have been preserved. In my view, the most prevalent ones seem to be the political and social ideologies we subscribe to individually and culturally. For this paper, I will primarily consider liberalism and conservatism in America as typical instances of these types of values. To distinguish higher values from other more standard values, I will make use of the criteria detailed by Katsafanas in his paper, “Fugitive Pleasure and the Meaningful Life: Nietzsche on Nihilism and Higher Values.” These criteria include demandingness, tendency to generate tragic conflicts, regular induction of strong emotions, professedly great import, exclusion of other values, and propensity for creating communities (5). As far as I can tell, political ideologies seem to instantiate all of these criteria. They are certainly demanding; liberals and conservatives both generally see their chosen credo as the “correct” way to live and believe that it is immune to any sort of compromise. For either group, their ideology does not (in theory) allow them to be frivolous with their moral and political choices or to deviate from the prescribed guidelines is often perceived as a violation of some sort of ethical code. When conflict between our political ideologies and other higher values is acknowledged, such discord is often seen as tragic. For instance, nearly everyone has heard of individuals that have experienced, or have themselves experienced, intense strife with family members due to political disagreements. Family, as a general construct, is widely treated as a higher value. Familial bonds are demanding insofar as compromising them is seen as betrayal of the highest degree, they induce powerful emotions, acting for the sake of one’s family is seen as sufficient to explain most actions, family is often presented as taking priority over all other pursuits in life (to the point of being exclusionary), and family, of course, instantiates strong communities. So, when we experience conflicts between our political ideology and our family, such conflicts are nothing short of agonizing. Is it morally permissible to cut off one’s family members because they are conservative or liberal or libertarian? Is the gap in ideology something so forceful that it ought to trump deep familial bonds? Such questions are not easy to answer (for most) and the dilemma one finds oneself in when faced with them is most definitely viewed as a tragic one. Even if one is not sold on the status of family as a higher value, there are numerous others that can be substituted to illustrate my point. Here I will include a brief clarification that will prove important further on in this paper: The conflict between higher values must be acknowledged. My characterization of political ideology as a higher value relies partially on the notion that if one identifies a conflict between one’s political ideology and another higher value, then such conflict will be viewed as tragic. However, should one have an unrecognized logical conflict between one’s ideology and another higher value for whatever reason (for instance due to growing incoherence in our higher values), then this trait does not go unfulfilled merely because such a conflict goes unnoticed. Elicitation of strong emotions when it comes to political ideology needs no lengthy justification. One merely needs to survey the landscape of almost any social media platform to witness the masses loving, hating, condemning, and worshiping political figures. Likewise, it seems obvious that we believe political ideology is more important than the vast majority of things in our lives. At their core, ideologies such as liberalism and conservatism exist to function as banners of the things we value most in life. For the strong liberal or strong conservative, the very essence of what it means to live a good life is often synonymous with their dogma. Lastly, it is needless to say that political ideology has become exclusionary in nature and is prone to instantiate powerful communities. This phenomenon is represented best by the American political system where, by being part of one community, you are by default excluded (and often even looked down upon) by rivaling groups. As people increasingly and overwhelmingly define themselves and others based on their choices in politics, one’s ideology is commonly seen as central to one’s character. The intense political polarization that has resulted from this is testament to just how exclusionary political ideology has become and how robust the coalitions formed based on such ideology can truly be. Thus far, I have endeavored to establish political ideologies as common examples of higher values that are still held by people today. From here, I aim to show that such higher values are not being lost, but rather becoming increasingly incoherent. To this end, I would invite my reader to consider how party politics works in America. Generally speaking, the Democratic Party is meant to model liberalism and represent liberal people, and, conversely, the Republican Party is supposed to model conservatism in action. But can we confidently say that those values are the basis upon which each party unerringly acts? I have instead found their condition to be best described by the ideas of Baudrillard, whose framework I will use to illustrate what is going on. Of contemporary society, Baudrillard says: “Abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror, or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being, or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal. The territory no longer precedes the map, nor does it survive it. It is nevertheless the map that precedes the territory - precession of simulacra” (6). In short, rather than our values and ideals informing the models we use to structure society, the models have begun to determine our values. In this case, instead of political parties typifying our liberal or conservative ideals, it seems increasingly true that the parties are influencing and warping our values. If we accept this Baudrillardian understanding, it seems evident that what retains vital importance in modern society is not our higher values themselves but the models that now precede them. This account also explains why incoherence of higher values seems to be on the rise; we still perceive our higher values to be what drives our society forward, even though this is not the case, which causes a disconnect between the individual and the weight of their own values. In addition, because our models have started to inform our values, we are no longer able to distinguish which actions we take on behalf of a higher value and which we take on behalf of a mere imitation of one. Even worse, the solution is no longer as simple as critically analyzing our values in order to discriminate between which ones are legitimate and which ones are mere simulacra; our genuine higher values have started to emulate the misshapen versions of them embodied by our models. The Baudrillardian fall from grace notably has two distinct steps: First, the models of our values (in this case our political parties) seem to operate completely independently from, and often in contradiction with, our actual values. Second, in a more sinister fashion, our values themselves are altered in a manner that breeds incoherence and an inability to grasp the inconsistencies in our beliefs. This transmutation occurs, on Baudrillard’s account, through media culture (7). This fits nicely with my argument, as it seems overwhelmingly obvious that the media is now inextricably entwined with politics, meaning our political ideology is especially susceptible to modification by mass media. For those readers who are skeptical about the weight Baudrillard and I are assigning to media culture, I will justify this further on in this paper. For now, however, I will provide some evidence that the process I have just described is in fact reflective of our society. First, consider America’s involvement in the ongoing conflict between Israel and Palestine. For the fiscal year 2021, the Trump Administration sought $3.8 billion to support Israel’s military spending (8). Theoretically, this should be a big concern for Republicans. Since the reduction of taxes and minimization of governmental scope are undoubtedly two of the main goals of conservatism, and purportedly the Republican Party, it seems as though the Party ought to support decreasing tax-funded aid to Israel. And yet, studies show that the vast majority of Republicans believe that Trump has “struck the right balance” in dealing with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (9). As we can see, even if reducing our financial assistance to Israel is in the best interests of conservatism, self-identified conservatives consistently act contrary to this because that is what their party leaders convey to them. A Republican might object to this characterization, on the grounds that America has a responsibility to intervene in areas where it has deemed human rights violations are occurring. But if that is the case, then how can the Republican simultaneously support the construction of a border wall designed to prevent persecuted Latin Americans from fleeing for their lives? (10). The significance of all this is that the status of our higher values, in relation to their models, becomes dubious. This issue seems to mimic the first step quite clearly in our Baudrillardian process. The U.S. support of Israel is but one example of this phenomenon wherein actions resulting from our models are completely separate from the actions that would normally be dictated by our higher values. Next, let’s discuss an example of the second step of the Baudrillardian framework. Firearm legislation is another controversial issue in America at the moment, with various groups holding drastically different positions on whether one has the right to bear arms. Through this issue, I hope to demonstrate the ways in which the incoherence of higher values can lead to illogical stances on both ends of the political spectrum. When it comes to gun control, conservatives are generally in favor of fewer restrictions. This is largely consistent with core conservative beliefs, such as minimizing government input on private lives and preserving the liberties provided by the second Amendment. As a matter of fact, widespread gun ownership is not only morally permissible but even necessary , many conservatives say, in case the state ever decides to infringe on the rights of its citizens or coerce them without due cause. For the conservative, guns are thus a mode through which the individual can retain power over the state. So far, nothing seems wrong. But issues arise when other beliefs, supposedly in line with the same brand of conservatism, are added to the mix. While retaining this belief in the need, and indeed the moral right, to protect oneself from an unjust state as one sees fit , conservatives in America today are also associated with the position that it is unpatriotic and morally reprehensible to kneel during the anthem or otherwise protest the brutality and violence that occurs through the arm of the state, i.e., the police. It seems to me that simultaneously holding these two beliefs is something that is very difficult, if not impossible, to maintain. And yet, these are often considered standard conservative and Republican positions in our society. Contemporary liberals do not fare much better when their higher values are analyzed in this context. For the liberal, government institutions in America have a long history of systemic racism and oppression of minorities and lower classes. Such institutions thus ought to be overhauled or rectified, the logic goes, in order to form a society that reflects more liberal values. Yet at the same time, there is a common liberal view that guns are instruments of death and should be withheld from all except government employees who require them for their job, such as police officers and military personnel. But this view seems to remove an opportunity for the individuals oppressed by the state to gain power, and instead places that power squarely in the hands of the oppressors. The liberal cannot have their cake and eat it too; to believe that the police should be defunded because of their routine violence against the people they ought to be protecting, and simultaneously believe that the state should have full authority and exclusive control over all firearms, seems problematic at best. Even if the liberal attempts to avert this problem by going even further and asserting that nobody should own a gun, then a similar problem arises. It is still the same oppressive and racist state that takes guns away from people. It is still the same state that ultimately retains the power in this scenario. These are just some ways in which our higher values have begun to show signs of incoherence. Unlike our first step, this second step is no longer just a matter of us acting in line with our models while wrongly believing that they are reflections of what we ultimately value. If we could stop after the first step, there would still be a dim hope of redemption. If one can be shown the inconsistencies between their values and the actions of their party, it seems as though they can revise their mode of life. But the incoherence of the second step is far more deadly. Our higher values themselves are being changed; they are becoming muddled and losing intelligibility rapidly. Recommitting oneself to one’s values when faced with inconsistency is already exceptionally difficult but refashioning one’s values when faced with complete incoherence is even more demanding. Gun control is just one example of this, but these types of discussions all beg the same question: Are conservatives and liberals determining what their party stands for, or is it their parties that are deciding what the ideology stands for? It may be, in the words of Baudrillard, “no longer a question of imitation, nor duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real” (11). This Baudrillardian diagnosis of society is explained by many factors, but primary among them is the rise of media culture. Overwhelmingly, the types of media we consume has come to define what it means to be social in our culture. The interactions we have with friends, family members, significant others, strangers, all are determined by the media we absorb. Take romantic encounters, for instance. The ways in which we decide how we ought to act towards our partners, what sort of romantic gestures are considered socially acceptable, what kind of boundaries we set, are all largely, if not entirely, defined by what we have seen in social media, films, television, advertisements, and so on. One need look no further, Baudrillard says, than to observe that, “whoever is underexposed to the media is desocialized or virtually asocial” (12). Such a state of affairs would be fine, of course, if most forms of media faithfully represented and depicted our higher values, but the opposite seems to be the case. Consider the social phenomena commonly referred to as “virtue signaling” or “performative activism.” In particular, let us contemplate the cases in which one virtue signals without actually doing much to pursue that virtue. In cases like these, many remain unaware of their hypocrisy and nonetheless believe that they act virtuously when, in fact, they are merely presenting the facade of virtue. The mere posting of a black square on one’s Instagram account without any further action to support African American communities comes to mind as a relevant example of this. One might say that all individuals who engage in such signaling do so consciously—they are aware that they are “faking it” in order to achieve popularity, acceptance into a social group, or something of this nature. But this seems like an overly pessimistic claim, and I would characterize the phenomenology of such individuals differently. I would argue that most people that act in these ways genuinely believe that they are pursuing their ideal of a virtuous life. They do not recognize that their virtues (which are closely related to, if not synonymous with, their higher values) are not informing their actions. Rather, they are acting according to the media-warped model of what it means to instantiate that virtue. To make this more concrete, take the notion of equality to be a higher value or virtue that one strives towards. If equality was truly what was informing the behavior of the virtue signaling person, then such a person would seemingly recognize that their actions are not satisfying that higher value. Thus, it seems much more likely that what the virtue signaler is motivated by is not the pure higher value of equality, but rather an incoherent version of it altered by media culture. The people who post black squares on their Instagram and then go about their daily life feeling excellent about their stand against police brutality and institutionalized racism certainly feel as if they have higher values (e.g., equality, liberalism), but such values have been rendered incoherent. The proof of this incoherence is of course that their higher values are (even partially) satisfied by trivial actions that provide no substantive change in one’s way of life or the world. In addition, as referenced earlier, such people do not experience the tragic feelings that are meant to accompany conflict between higher values because they do not recognize that such conflict exists in the first place. We can perhaps judge from the outside that there seems to be an objective disconnect between these people’s purported higher values and their actions, but the growing incoherence of their values prevents the perpetrators themselves from coming to the same conclusion. At this juncture, one might object that if our higher values have become so vacuous that they can be fulfilled by such superficial action, then it is likely that they are not higher values at all anymore. In this regard, it would seem that we have ultimately returned to Nietzsche’s hypothesis and lost our higher values entirely. To this I would reply that these incoherent higher values may very well be vacuous, but they retain their status, nonetheless. Political ideology, for instance, still instantiates all the higher value criteria, as I have discussed. What this shows is that our immediate societal condition is distinct from that of the last man. We still have the capacity to cherish things in all the right ways and set goals for ourselves beyond immediate gratification, it is just that the things we cherish and the goals we set may be severely distorted. Now that we have touched on how our current situation is different from the last man, a question naturally arises: What would Nietzsche say about the state of our political ideology? When it comes to politics, Nietzsche is remarkably silent. Try as one might, it is rare to find Nietzsche discussing political ideology at great length. Though he is often found criticizing democracy as a “conspiracy of the whole herd against [its] shepherd,” this does not amount to much in the form of a distinct political structure (13). We also get some cryptic allusions to the merits of a natural order-based caste system in The Antichrist , but this discussion seems less about the desirability of the castes and more about how even this sort of ideology is preferable to the life-negating belief system that characterizes Christianity (14). Rather than focusing on political structures in service of the many, it seems like Nietzsche was more interested in particular individuals that could serve as paragons of vice or virtue. Napoleon is an oft-cited example of someone Nietzsche admired very much, going so far as to name him one of the “profound and largeminded men of [the] century” (15). But Nietzsche’s view of Napoleon as a higher man could justify an entire paper by itself, and such analysis is not particularly relevant to our discussion of higher values. Rather than present Nietzsche’s (scarce) ideas on political ideology, it seems more fruitful to examine how concepts like the death of God might have led to our current predicament. Nietzsche, of course, saw the loss of higher values as a direct result of the absence of a divine entity able to furnish our choices and goals with meaning. But what may be more potent than the loss of objective meaning is the loss of the structure installed by that divinity. Organized religion generally aims to provide a clear system concerning the fulfillment of our higher values. It lays out, for instance, what constitutes a sin, how to worship properly, and so on. Ergo, religion serves to enforce a uniformity between our actions and our values. It is fundamentally designed not to allow individuals to both violate their own higher values and escape with a morally sound conscience. But without religion, this necessity for consistency between our higher values and our behavior is damaged. There is no eternal damnation, no divine punishment, no karmic justice to threaten us to maintain such cohesion, and so we lose it. What all of these topics have in common, from virtue signaling to contradictory stances on gun control, is the apparent inconsistency in the higher values that allow such behaviors to take place. Ultimately, I would suggest that the path the individual in contemporary American society has taken is distinct from the condition of the last man that Nietzsche fears. Higher values persist, as I have endeavored to show, but the logical consistency required to fulfill them properly seems to be rapidly deteriorating. Nevertheless, if one wishes to remain compatible with Nietzsche’s theory, then we could perhaps frame the current state of society as merely one of the final steps on our inevitable trajectory to becoming last men. After all, it does seem plausible that the degeneration of the coherence of our highest values will eventually lead to the loss of them entirely. Such an understanding does raise some concerns, however, as discarding our higher values (“believing in their untenability” as Nietzsche puts it) seems to require one to be aware of their unintelligibility. Insofar as we have reached a state where our higher values no longer even need to be consistent in order for us to act on them, one can wonder whether we will ever collectively reach a position where we realize the inconsistencies exist so deeply in our higher values that they must be abandoned altogether. Still, there is certainly a Nietzschean argument to be made that there must be a limit to how incoherent our higher values can get before we rid ourselves of them in disgust. As it stands now, even though our higher values have garnered significant incoherence, they can still be said to represent us faithfully for the most part. For example, though issues like gun control demonstrate some glaring problems that require rectifying, I would argue American liberals and conservatives still tend to largely act on the values at the core of their ideology. Single-payer healthcare is a good instance of this: Liberals largely support it on the basis of their beliefs about equality and human rights, while conservatives largely do not because it would result in less individual freedom and greater taxes (16). Thus, though I have spent the majority of this paper painting quite a dismal picture, our higher values do not seem close to collapsing entirely. We may not have to resign ourselves to the fate of the fabled boiling frog, insofar as the coherence of our higher values continually gets worse without us noticing. One could certainly make a compelling case that when the incoherence gets to a stage where it overwhelms the proper functioning of our higher values, we will desert them. At such a juncture, it appears we would have no choice but to become last men. At any rate, if one is really committed to the Nietzschean hypothesis, one could call the state we are currently inhabiting that of the “penultimate man” (or better yet penultimate person, for the sake of inclusivity and alliteration). Endnotes 1 Friedrich Nietzsche, et al., Writings from the Late Notebooks , (Cambridge University Press, 2016), 205. 2 Friedrich Nietzsche and Walter Kaufmann, The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs: Translated, with Commentary by Walter Kaufmann, (Random: 1974), 343. 3 Friedrich Nietzsche, et al, Nietzsche: Thus Spoke Zarathustra , (Cambridge University Press, 2006), 129. 4 Ibid, 130. 5 Paul Katsafanas, “Fugitive Pleasure and the Meaningful Life: Nietzsche on Nihilism and Higher Values: Journal of the American Philosophical Association,” Cambridge Core , (Cambridge University Press, 2015), 9-11. 6 Jean Baudrillard and Sheila Faria Glaser, Simulacra and Simulation , (University of Michigan Press, 2019), 2. 7 Glenn Yeffeth, Taking the Red Pill: Science, Philosophy, and Religion in the Matrix , (Benbella Books, 2003), 74. 8 U.S. Foreign Aid to Israel , Congressional Research Service, 2020, fas.org/sgp/crs/mideast/RL33222.pdf. 9 “U.S. Public Has Favorable View of Israel's People, but Is Less Positive Toward Its Government,” Pew Research Center - U.S. Politics & Policy , 2020, www.pewresearch.org/politics/2019/04/24/u-s-public-has-favorable-view-of-israels-people-but-is-less-positive-toward-its-government/ . 10 Suzanne Gamboa, et al., “Why Are so Many Migrants Crossing the U.S. Border? It Often Starts with an Escape from Violence in Central America,” NBCNews.com , 2018, www.nbcnews.com/storyline/immigration-border-crisis/central-america-s-violence-turmoil-keeps-driving-families-u-s-n884956 . 11 Baudrillard andGlaser, Simulacra and Simulation , 2. 12 Ibid, 55. 13 Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist, (Auckland, NZ: Floating Press, 2010), 67. 14 Ibid, 57. 15 Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil , (New York, NY: Dover Publications, 1998), 256. 16 Bradley Jones, “Increasing Share of Americans Favor a Single Government Program to Provide Health Care Coverage,” Pew Research Center , 2020, www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2020/09/29/increasing-share-of-americans-favor-a-single-government-program-to-provide-health-care-coverage/ . Bibliography Baudrillard, Jean, and Sheila Faria Glaser. Simulacra and Simulation . University of Michigan Press, 2019. Gamboa, Suzanne, et al. “Why Are so Many Migrants Crossing the U.S. Border? It Often Starts with an Escape from Violence in Central America.” NBCNews.com , NBCUniversal News Group, 22 Oct. 2018, www.nbcnews.com/storyline/immigration-border-crisis/central-america-s-violence- turmoil-keeps-driving-families-u-s-n884956. Jones, Bradley. “Increasing Share of Americans Favor a Single Government Program to Provide Health Care Coverage.” Pew Research Center , Pew Research Center, 30 Sept. 2020, www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2020/09/29/increasing-share-of-americans-favor-a-single- government-program-to-provide-health-care-coverage/ . Katsafanas, Paul. “Fugitive Pleasure and the Meaningful Life: Nietzsche on Nihilism and Higher Values: Journal of the American Philosophical Association.” Cambridge Core , Cambridge University Press, 22 Sept. 2015, www.cambridge.org/core/journals/journal-of-the-american- philosophical-association/article/abs/fugitive-pleasure-and-the-meaningful-life-nietzsche-on- nihilism-and-higher-values/449B756CD8E5DC8139A701AC195F33F8. “Most Border Wall Opponents, Supporters Say Shutdown Concessions Are Unacceptable.” Pew Research Center - U.S. Politics & Policy , Pew Research Center, 21 Aug. 2020, www.pewresearch.org/politics/2019/01/16/most-border-wall-opponents-supporters-say- shutdown-concessions-are-unacceptable/. Nietzsche, Friedrich. Beyond Good and Evil . Dover Thrift Editions. New York, NY: Dover Publications, 1998. Nietzsche, Friedrich, and Walter Kaufmann. The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs: Translated, with Commentary by Walter Kaufmann . Random, 1974. Nietzsche, Friedrich, et al. Nietzsche: Thus Spoke Zarathustra . Cambridge University Press, 2006. Nietzsche, Friedrich, et al. Writings from the Late Notebooks . Cambridge University Press, 2016. Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm. The Antichrist. Auckland, NZ. Floating Press, 2010. U.S. Foreign Aid to Israel . Congressional Research Service, 16 Nov. 2020, fas.org/sgp/crs/mideast/RL33222.pdf. “U.S. Public Has Favorable View of Israel's People, but Is Less Positive Toward Its Government.” Pew Research Center - U.S. Politics & Policy , Pew Research Center, 30 May 2020, www.pewresearch.org/politics/2019/04/24/u-s-public-has-favorable-view-of-israels-people-but- is-less-positive-toward-its-government/. Yeffeth, Glenn. Taking the Red Pill: Science, Philosophy, and Religion in the Matrix . Benbella Books, 2003. Previous Next
- Douglas Beal
Douglas Beal The Financial Case for Nations and Corporations to Put People and the Planet First Douglas Beal We are in a period of increasing societal disruption. Pressure is mounting to ad- dress the climate crisis. Racial equity issues have moved to the forefront. And the COVID-19 pandemic has caused untold suffering and death and upended economies around the globe. In the past, addressing such issues has been seen primarily as the responsibility of government. But increasingly, there are expectations that the private sector must play a leading role in driving progress on major societal challenges. I, along with my colleagues at Boston Consulting Group, have spent the last decade supporting nations and corporations in addressing social and environmental issues—and measuring how their efforts impact country GDP and company financial performance. My work in this area began with economic development, helping nations to advance in a way that improved the living standards of citizens. More recently I refocused on private sector work, helping companies and investors create strategies to deliver both business and societal value. The research and client work I’ve done in both areas reveal a powerful insight: whether one is talking about a country’s economic growth or a company’s prof- its or returns for shareholders, performance is not degraded by focusing on how decisions impact people and the planet. Rather, the evidence is mounting that integrating such factors into strategy enhances financial performance. Putting Well-Being at the Heart of a Nation’s Strategy BCG’s insight on these dynamics started with our work in the area of economic development. As we supported presidents and prime ministers around the world in honing their development strategies, it became clear they were looking for a way to measure their progress beyond the purely financial benchmark of GDP. This reflected their acknowledgement that robust GDP per capita growth in the short term means little if living standards are undermined in the long term (by poor health, underinvestment in education, a degraded environment, and a widening gap between rich and poor). The Sustainable Development Goals had not yet been put in place at this time, meaning a globally-recognized holistic framework for measuring country progress did not exist. We set out to create one. This led to some deep conversations about what really matters for a society. As Robert F. Kennedy said, GDP “measures everything in short, except that which makes life worthwhile.” We had to ask our- selves: What actually makes life worthwhile? We thought about general measures of happiness, for example, and whether levels of citizen happiness would be a good barometer for a nation’s performance. Ultimately, we decided that happiness would be too subjective for what we wanted to achieve. Instead we decided to focus on well-being , the conditions and quality of life people experience. We then asked ourselves: how do you measure well-being—and how can a government contribute to it? We spoke with numerous experts and dug into the re- search on well-being to determine what factors should comprise our measure. We eventually zeroed in on 10 dimensions: income, economic stability, employment, health, education, infrastructure, equality, civil society, governance, and environment. We identified a series of indicators for each—a total of 40 in all. The result was the Sustainable Economic Development Assessment, a diagnostic tool and measurement framework launched in 2012. SEDA allows us to track how a country’s well-being compares to that of other nations, determine the pace of progress over time, and identify areas in which countries are performing well or need to improve. SEDA revealed valuable insights. First, not surprisingly, countries with higher levels of wealth tended to have higher well-being. Norway, for example, has had the highest level of well-being relative to the rest of the world every year since we launched SEDA. Second, not all countries convert their wealth (GDP per capita) into well-being at equal rates. Some deliver well-being levels that are beyond what one would expect given the country’s wealth—and others deliver well-being far be- low what would be expected. In recent years Vietnam has been among the leading countries in terms of converting wealth into well-being—outpacing countries such as Germany, France, and the US on this metric. Third, inequality—and not just income inequality—has a major impact on well-being. Certainly, income inequality gets significant attention in political and media circles. But SEDA captures a broader view, assessing not only income inequality but also the lack of equity in access to health care and education as well. And our analysis last year found, somewhat surprisingly, that high levels of social inequality are a greater drag on well-being than high levels of income equality. Over the years, as we continued to assess country levels of well-being, public sector clients, journalists, and others often raised a similar question. While it was clear that countries with higher levels of wealth or growth had more resources to advance well-being, we were frequently asked if the reverse was true. So, was there evidence that countries with a better record on well-being ultimately posted more robust GDP growth? In 2018 we decided to take a stab at answering that question. By then we could access ten years’ worth of SEDA data—enough time to give us confidence we could identify a long-term trend if it existed. Drawing on data for all 152 countries in our data set, we looked at a country’s initial well-being performance relative to its wealth in the period leading up to and including the financial crisis (from 2007 through 2009)—and its growth rate in the decade that followed. We found that on average, countries that produced better well-being for their population given their level of wealth did in fact have a higher GDP growth rate in the future. Our analysis also found that countries that had a better record at delivering well-being for citizens were more resilient during the financial crisis, taking fewer months to recover to pre-crisis GDP levels than countries with weaker records on well-being. It turns out that taking care of people and the planet is good economics. Focusing on Total Societal Impact As we worked with nations on development strategies, we urged them to think strategically about integrating the private sector into those efforts. This included understanding where the country’s most pressing needs existed and identifying the industries and companies that could play a role in addressing those needs. Banks, for example, can be key partners in expanding access to capital for entrepreneurs. Food manufacturers that expand their supply chain to include small-holder farmers can help raise incomes for those individuals and reduce poverty rates overall. And biopharmaceutical companies that move to expand access to medicine can play a vital role in improving health outcomes. Time and time again my economic development work in the public sector rein- forced the importance of the private sector in advancing important societal issues. In 2016, I started focusing more on working directly with large multinational corporations to find ways to improve both business returns and their positive impact on society. At that time, academic research had shown that integrating environmental, social, and governance (ESG) performance into investment decisions led to better returns from a portfolio perspective. What that meant for individual businesses was not quite as clear. Most of our clients are large corporations—and they had a lot of questions. First, CEOs and CFOs were grappling with whether they should think of good ESG performance as a cost or an opportunity. They also wanted to understand what specific ESG topics were most important for their industry. So, we set out to prove that in fact ESG is an opportunity—not a cost—and to identify those topics that matter for specific industries. In 2017, I joined a group of colleagues in the Social Impact practice to conduct a detailed study of ESG performance in four industries: biopharmaceuticals, oil and gas, consumer packaged goods, and retail and business banking. We assessed company performance in dozens of ESG topics, such as ensuring a responsible environmental footprint or promoting equal opportunity. We looked for any correlation with market valuation multiples and margins. Our goal was to determine whether companies that excelled in those areas, enhancing what we call Total Societal Impact (TSI), saw a difference in financial performance versus companies that lagged in those ESG areas. Now, as members of the Social Impact practice, we were of course hoping we’d find a link. In fact, the results exceeded our expectations. Nonfinancial performance (as captured by the ESG metrics) has a statistically significant positive correlation with the valuation multiples of companies in all the industries we analyzed. In each industry, investors rewarded the top performers in specific ESG topics with valuation multiples 3% to 19% higher, all else being equal, than those of the median performers in those topics. And top performers in certain ESG topics had margins that were up to 12.4 percentage points higher, all else being equal, than those of the median performers in those topics. The bottom line: not only was there no penalty for focusing on ESG, but companies that performed well in critical ESG areas were rewarded in the market. The Moment of Truth Our work in SEDA and TSI were completely different—looking at different players, using different methodologies, and conducted at different times. Yet the results yielded strikingly parallel insights: putting people and the planet at the center of strategy improves financial performance. Those insights have major implications for nations and companies as they navigate the current period of turbulence and disruption. Certainly, it is too early to know which countries around the world will prove more resilient in the face of the pandemic. However, our research does support the view that those nations that design recovery strategies that support citizen well-being are likely to fare best. In particular, governments should design economic re- vitalization programs that don’t just position their nation for economic success in the future, but also ensure the benefits of any gains are equally shared among citizens. And those that created massive stimulus programs must leverage them as an opportunity to accelerate progress in fighting climate change. For companies, the imperative to transform in ways that create positive societal impact is equally strong. Companies should protect employees by ensuring work- place safety, while also reskilling workers and accelerating hiring where feasible. And as they transform their business in the face of the pandemic, they should integrate a societal impact lens into the effort. They can, for example, improve the resiliency of supply chains while also reducing carbon emissions and environmental impact. They can look for new product opportunities that yield real societal benefits. And they can partner with other companies or organizations to maximize impact. There are early indications that companies with a strong focus on their impact on society are faring better right now. Some key MSCI ESG indices, for example, have outperformed non-ESG benchmarks since the start of COVID-19. The challenges facing society today are grave—and daunting. But nations and corporations have massive leverage to move the needle against climate threat, racial inequity, and the devastating pandemic. Without their leadership, it is hard to see how we can make progress in any of these areas. Lucky for us, the evidence shows it is in their economic interest to do so. Previous Next
- Sydney Bowen
Sydney Bowen A “Shot” Heard Around the World: The Fed made a deliberate choice to let Lehman fail. It was the right one. Sydney Bowen On the morning of September 15, 2008, the DOW Jones Industrial Average plunged more than 500 points; $700 billion in value vanished from retirement plans, government pension funds, and investment portfolios (1). This shocking market rout was provoked by the bankruptcy filing of Lehman Brothers Holding Inc., which would soon become known as “the largest, most complex, most far-reaching bankruptcy case” filed in United States history (2). Amid job loss, economic turmoil, and choruses of “what ifs,” a myriad of dangerous myths and conflicting stories emerged, each desperately seeking to rationalize the devastation of the crisis and explain why the Federal Reserve did not extend a loan to save Lehman. Some accuse the Fed of making a tragic mistake, believing that Lehman’s failure was the match that lit the conflagration of the entire Global Financial Crisis. Others disparage the Fed for bowing to the public’s political opposition towards bailouts. The Fed itself, however, adamantly maintains that they “did not have the legal authority to rescue Lehman,” an argument played in unremitting refrain in the years following the crisis. In this essay, I discuss the various dimensions of the heated debate on how and why the infamous investment bank went under. I examine the perennial question of whether regulators really had a choice in allowing Lehman to fail, an inquiry that prompts the multi-dimensional and more subjective discussion of whether regulators made the correct decision. I assert that (I) the Fed made a deliberate, practical choice to let Lehman fail and posthumously justified it with a façade of legal inability, and that (II) in the context of the already irreparably severe crisis, the fate of the future financial landscape, obligations to taxpayers, and the birth of the landmark legislation TARP, the Fed made the ‘right’ decision. I. The Fed’s Almost Rock-Solid Alibi: Legal Jargon and Section 13(3) Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke, Former Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson, and New York Fed general counsel Thomas Baxter Jr. have each argued in sworn testimony that regulators wanted to save Lehman but lacked the legal authority to do so. While their statements are not lies, they neglect to tell the entire – more incriminating – truth. In this section, I assert that Fed officials deliberately chose not to save Lehman and justified their decision after the fact with the impeccable alibi that they did not have a viable legal option. In a famous testimony, Bernanke announced, “ [T]he only way we could have saved Lehman would have been by breaking the law, and I’m not sure I’m willing to accept those consequences for the Federal Reserve and for our system of laws. I just don’t think that would be appropriate ”(3). At face value, his argument appears sound; however, the “law” alluded to here– Section 13(3) of the Federal Reserve Act–was not a hard and fast body of rules capable of being “broken,” but rather a weakly worded, vague body that encouraged “regulatory gamesmanship and undermined democratic accountability” (4). i. Section 13(3) Section 13(3) of the Federal Reserve Act gives the Fed broad power to lend to non-depository institutions “in unusual and existent circumstances” (5). It stipulates that a loan must be “secured to the satisfaction of the [lending] Reserve Bank,” limiting the amount of credit that the Fed can extend to the value of a firm’s col- lateral in an effort to shield taxpayers from potential losses (6). Yet, since the notion of “satisfactory security” has no precise contractual definition, Fed officials had ample room to exercise discretionary judgment when appraising Lehman’s assets. This initial legal freedom was further magnified by the opaqueness of the assets themselves – mortgage-backed securities, credit default swaps, and associated derivatives were newfangled financial instruments manufactured from a securitization process, complexly tranched and nearly impossible to value. Thus, the three simple words, “secured to satisfaction,” provided regulators with an asylum from their own culpability, allowing them to hide a deliberate choice inside a comfort- able perimeter of legal ambiguity. ii. Evaluations of Lehman’s Assets and “Secured to Satisfaction” The “legal authority” to save Lehman hinged upon the Fed’s conclusions on Lehman’s solvency and their evaluation of the firm’s available collateral–a task that boiled down to Lehman’s troubled and illiquid real-estate portfolio, composed primarily of mortgage-backed securities. Lehman had valued their portfolio at $50 billion, purporting a $28.4 billion surplus; however, Fed officials and potential private rescuers, skeptical of Lehman’s real-estate valuation methods, argued that there was a gaping “hole” in their balance sheet. Bank of America, a private party contemplating a Lehman buyout, maintained that the size of the hole amounted to “$66 billion” while the Fed’s task team of Goldman Sachs and Credit Suisse CEO’s determined that “tens of billions of dollars were missing” (7). Esteemed economist Lawrence Ball, who meticulously reviewed Lehman’s balance sheet, however, concluded to the contrary–there was no “hole” and Lehman was solvent when the Fed allowed it to fail. While I do not claim to know which of the various assessments was correct, the simple fact remains–the myriad of conflicting reports speak to the ultimate subjectivity of any evaluation. “Legal authority” became hitched to the value of mortgage-backed securities, and in 2008 their value had become dangerously opaque. In discussing the Fed’s actions, it is necessary to point out that the Federal Reserve has a rare ability to value assets more liberally than a comparable private party–they are able to hold distressed assets for longer and ultimately exert incredible influence over any securities’ final value as they control monetary policy. The Dissenting Statement of the FCIC report aptly reveals that Fed leaders could have simply guided their staff to “re-evaluate [Lehman’s balance sheet] in a more optimistic way to justify a secured loan;” however, they elected not to do so since such action did not align with their private, practical interests (8). The “law” could have been molded in either direction–the Fed consciously chose the direction of nonintervention just as easily as they could have chosen the opposite. iii. The Fed’s “Practical” and Deliberate Choice Section 13(3) had been invoked just five months earlier in March 2008, when the Fed extended a $29 billion loan to facilitate JP Morgan’s purchase of a differ- ent failing firm, Bear Stearns. In an effort to separate the Fed’s handling of Bear Stearns from Lehman, Bernanke admits that considerations behind each decision were both “ legal and practical ” (9). While in Bear Stearns case, practical judgement weighed in favor of intervention, in Lehman’s case, it did not: “if we lent the money to Lehman, all that would happen would be that the run [on Lehman] would succeed, because it wouldn’t be able to meet the demands, the firm would fail, and not only would we be unsuccessful, but we would [have] saddled the taxpayer with tens of billions of dollars of losses” (10). While an exhaustive display of arguments and testimonies that challenge the Fed’s claim of legal inability is cogent, perhaps the most chilling evidence lies in an unassuming and incisive question: “Since when did regulators let a lack of legal authority stop them? There was zero legal authority for the FDIC’s broad guarantee of bank holding debt. Saving Lehman would have been just one of many actions of questionable legality taken by regulators” (11). iv. Other Incriminating Facts: The Barclay’s Guarantee and Curtailed PDCF Lending An analysis of Lehman’s failure would be incomplete without discussing the Fed’s resounding lack of action during negotiations of a private rescue with Barclays, a critical moment in the crisis that could have salvaged the failing firm with- out contentious use of public money. Barclays began conversing with the U.S. Treasury Department a week prior to Lehman’s fall as they contemplated and hammered out terms of an acquisition (12). The planned buyout by the British bank would have gone through had the Fed agreed to guarantee Lehman’s trading obligations during the time between the initial deal and the final approval; yet, the Fed deliberately refused to intervene, masking their true motives behind a legal inability to offer a “‘naked guarantee’–one that would be unsecured and not limit- ed in amount” (13). However, since such a request for an uncapped guarantee never occurred, the Fed’s legal alibi is deceitfully misleading. In truth, Lehman asked for secured funding from the Fed’s Primary Dealer Credit Facility (PDCF), a liquidity window allowing all Wall Street firms to take out collateralized loans when cut off from market funding (“The Fed—Primary Dealer Credit Facility (PDCF),” n.d.). While Lehman would not have been able to post eligible collateral under the initial requirement of investment-grade securities, they likely would have been able to secure a loan under the expanded version of the program that accepted a broader range of collateral. The purposeful curtailment of the expanded collateral to Lehman is one of the most questionable aspects of the Lehman weekend, and is perhaps the most lucid evidence that the Fed made a deliberate choice to let the firm fail. The FCIC de- tails the murky circumstances and clear absence of an appropriate explanation for the act: “the government officials made it plain that they would not permit Lehman to borrow against the expanded types of collateral, as other firms could. The sentiment was clear, but the reasons were vague” (14). If there had been a rational ex- planation, regulators would have articulated it. Instead, they merely repeated that “there existed no obligation or duty to provide such information or to substantiate the basis for the decision not to aid or support Lehman” (15). The Fed’s refusal to provide PDCF liquidity administered the final nail in Lehman’s coffin–access to such a loan made the difference in Lehman being able to open for business that infamous morning. v. An Intriguing Lack of Evidence The Fed did not furnish the FCIC with any analysis to show that Lehman lacked sufficient collateral to secure a loan under 13(3), referencing only the estimates of other Wall Street firms and declining to respond to a direct request for “the dollar value of the shortfall of Lehman’s collateral relative to its liquidity needs” (16). Diverging from typical protocol, where the Fed’s office “wrote a memo about each of the [potential] loans under Section 13(3),” Lehman’s case contains no official memo. When pressed on this topic, Scott Alvarez, the General Counsel of the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve, rationalized the opportune lack of evidence as an innocuous judgement call: “folks had a pretty good feeling for the value of Lehman during that weekend, and so there was no memo prepared that documented why it is we didn’t lend... they understood from all of [the negotiations] that there wasn’t enough there for us to lend against and so they weren’t willing to go forward” (17). While this absence of evidence does not prove that the Fed had access to a legal option, it highlights a disconcerting and suggestive vacancy in their claims. Consider an analogous courtroom case where a defendant exercises the right to remain silent rather than respond to a question that may implicate them–similarly, the Fed’s intentional evasion of the request for concrete evidence appears an incriminating insinuation of guilt. The lack of “paper trail” becomes even more confounding when coupled with the Fed’s inconsistent and haphazard statements justifying their decision. Only after the initial praise for the decision soured into a surge of public criticism did any mention of legality enter the public record. Nearly three weeks after Lehman’s fall on October 7th, Bernanke introduced a strategic “alibi:” “Neither the Treasury nor the Federal Reserve had the authority to commit public money in that way” (18). Bernanke insists that he will “maintain until [his] deathbed that [they] made every effort to save Lehman, but were just unable to do so because of a lack of legal authority” (19). However, when considering the subjectivity of “reasonable assurance” of repayment, the malleability of “legal authority,” and the convenient lack of evidence to undermine his statement, Bernanke’s “dying” claim becomes comically hollow. If the Fed had truly made “every effort” to rescue Lehman, they would have relied on more than a “pretty good feeling”–had they truly been sincere, the Federal Reserve, a team of seasoned economists, would have used hard numerical facts as guidance for a path forward. vi. The Broader Implications of “Secured to Satisfaction:” a Logical Fallacy While the Fed’s lack of transparency is unsettling, perhaps the most unnerving aspect of the entire Lehman episode is the precarious regulatory framework that the American financial system trusted during a crisis. The concept of “secured to satisfaction” is not the bullet-proof legal threshold painted by the media, rather it was a malleable moving target molded by the generosity of the Fed’s estimates and the fluctuating state of the economy, instead of precise mathematical facts. A 2018 article by Columbia Law Professor Kathryn Judge exposes the logical fallacy of Section 13(3)’s “secured to satisfaction,” citing how “subsequent developments can have a first order impact on both the value of the assets accepted as collateral and the apparent health of the firms needing support” (20). The “legal authority” of regulators to invoke Section 13(3) is a circular and empty concept, hitched to nebulous evaluations of complex and opaque securities, assets that were not only inherently hard to value but whose valuations could later be manipulated. By adjusting the composition of their balance sheet (Open Market Operations) and altering interest rates, the Fed guides the behavior of financial markets, thus subtly inflating (or deflating) the value of a firm’s collateral (21). Indeed, in the years following the government’s support of Bear Stearns and AIG, the Fed’s aggressive and novel monetary policy (close to zero interest rates and a large-scale program of quantitative easing) may have been “critical to making the collateral posted by [Bear Stearns and AIG] seem adequate to justify the central bank’s earlier actions’’ (22). Using collateral quality and solvency as prerequisites for lawful action is inherently problematic, since a firm’s health and the quality of their collateral are not factors given exogenously–they are endogenous variables that regulators them- selves play a critical role in determining. Thus, acceptance of the narrative that Lehman failed because the Fed lacked any legal authority to save it would be a naive oversight. Rather, Lehman failed because the Fed lacked the practical and political motivations to exploit the law. II. The Right Choice As Lehman’s downfall is both a politically contentious and emotionally charged topic, it is necessary to approach the morality of the Fed’s decision with sympathy and caution. In the following sections, I intend to illustrate why regulators made the right decision in allowing Lehman to fail by using non-partisan facts organized around four key arguments . (1) Lehman was not the watershed event of the Crisis. The market panic follow- ing September 2008 was a reaction to a collection of unstoppable, unrelated, and market-shaking events. (2) Lehman’s failure expunged the hazardous incentives carved into the financial landscape prior. Policymakers shrewdly chose long-term economic order over the short-term benefit of keeping a single firm afloat. (3) Failure was the “right” and only choice from a taxpayer’s perspective. (4) Lehman’s demise was a necessary catastrophe, creating circumstances so parlous that Congress passed TARP, landmark legislation that gave the Federal Reserve the authority that ultimately revived the financial system. (1) Lehman Was Not the Watershed Event of the Crisis For many people, the heated debate over whether regulators did the right thing in allowing Lehman to fail is synonymous with the larger question: “would rescuing Lehman have saved us from the Great Recession?” In the following section, I assert that Lehman was not the defining moment of the Financial Crisis (as is often construed in the media); rather, the global financial turmoil was irreversibly underway by September 2008 and the ensuing disaster could not have been simply averted by Lehman’s rescue. “ The problem was larger than a single failed bank – large, unconnected financial institutions were undercapitalized because of [similar, failed housing bets] ” (23). By Monday September 15, Bank of America had rescued the deteriorating Merrill Lynch and the insurance giant AIG was on the brink of failure–a testament to the critical detail that many other large financial institutions were also in peril due to losses on housing-related assets and a subsequent liquidity crisis. Indeed, in the weeks preceding Lehman’s failure, the interbank lending market had virtually froze, plunged into distress by a contagious spiral of self-fulfilling expectations. Unable to ascertain the location and size of subprime risk held by counterparties in the market, investors became panicked by the obscured and so ubiquitous risk of housing exposure, precipitously cutting off or restricting funding to other market participants. This perceived threat of a liquidity crisis triggered the downward spiral of the interbank lending market in the weeks preceding Lehman’s fall, a market which pumped vital cash into nearly every firm on Wall Street. The LIBOR-OIS spread, a proxy for counterparty risk and a robust indicator of the state of the interbank market, illustrates these “illiquidity waves” that severely impaired markets in 2008 (24). (Sengupta & Tam, 2008). As shown in the figure below, in the weeks prior to the failure of Lehman Brothers, the spread spiked dramatically, soaring above 300 basis points and portraying the cascade of panic and contraction of lending standards in the interbank market. The idea that Lehman was the key moment in the crisis might be accurate if nothing of significance happened before its failure; however, as I outline below this was clearly not the case. The quick succession of events occurring in September 2008 – events which would have occurred regardless of Lehman’s failure – triggered the global financial panic. A New Yorker article publishing a detailed timeline of the weekend exposes how AIG’s collapse and near failure was completely uncorrelated to Lehman (25). On Saturday September 13, AIG’s “looming multi-billion-dollar shortfall” from bad gambles on credit default swaps became apparent. Rescuing AIG became a top priority throughout the weekend, and on Tuesday, the day after Lehman filed for bankruptcy protection, the Fed granted an $85 billion emergency loan to salvage AIG’s investments (26). Given the curious timing, AIG’s troubles are often chalked up to be a market reaction to Lehman’s failure; however, proper facts expose the failures of AIG and Lehman as merely a close succession of unfortunate, yet unrelated events. In a similar light, the failure and subsequent buyouts of Washington Mutual (WaMu) and Wachovia, events that further rocked financial markets and battered confidence, would have occurred regardless of a Lehman bailout. Both commercial banks were heavily involved in subprime mortgages and were in deep trouble before Lehman. University of Oregon economist Tim Duy asserts that, even with a Lehman rescue, “the big mortgage lenders and regional banks [ie. WaMu and Wachovia] that were more directly affected by the mortgage meltdown likely wouldn’t have survived” (27). The financial system was precariously fragile by the fall of 2008 and saving Lehman would not have defused the larger crisis or ensuing market panic that erupted after September 2008. Critics of the Fed’s decision often cite how the collapse of Lehman Brothers be- gat the $62 billion Reserve Primary Fund’s “breaking of the buck” on Thursday, September 18 and precipitated a $550 billion run on money-market funds. Lehman’s dire effect on money and commercial paper markets is irrefutable; however, arguments that Lehman triggered this broader global financial panic neglect all relevant facts. The Lehman failure neither froze nor would a Lehman rescue have unfrozen credit markets, the key culprit responsible for the escalation and depth of the Crisis (28). Credit markets did not freeze in 2008 because the Fed chose not to bailout Lehman–they froze because of the mounting realization that mortgage losses were concentrated in the financial system, but nobody knew precisely where they lay. It was this creeping, inevitable realization, amplified by Lehman and the series of September events, that caused financial hysteria (29). As Geithner explains, “Lehman’s failure was a product of the forces that created the crisis, not the fundamental cause of those forces” (30). The core problems that catalyzed the financial market breakdown were an amalgamation of highly leveraged institutions, a lack of transparency, and the rapidly deteriorating value of mortgage-related assets–bailing out Lehman would not have miraculously fixed these problems. While such an analysis cannot unequivocally prove that regulators made the right decision in choosing to let Lehman fail, it offers a step in the right direction–the conventional wisdom that Lehman single-handedly triggered the collapse of confidence that froze credit markets and caused borrowing rates for banks to skyrocket is unfounded. While I have argued above that Lehman’s bankruptcy was not the sole trigger of the crisis, it was also not even the largest trigger. Research by Economist John Taylor asserts that Lehman’s bankruptcy was not the divisive event peddled by the media–using the LIBOR spread (the standard measure for market stress), Taylor found that the true ratcheting up of the crisis began on September 19, when the Fed revealed that they planned to ask Congress for $700 billion to defuse the crisis (31). Arguments advanced by mainstream media that saving Lehman would have averted the recession are naively optimistic and promote a dangerously inaccurate narrative on the events of 2007–2009. The failure of Lehman did indeed send new waves of panic through the economy; however, Lehman was not the only disturbance to rock financial markets in September of 2008 (32). This latter fact is of critical importance. (2) Lehman’s Collapse Caused Inevitable and Necessary Market Change “The inconsistency was the biggest problem. The Lehman decision abruptly and surprisingly tore the perceived rule book into pieces and tossed it out the window.” –Former Vice Chairman to the Federal Reserve Alan Blinder (33). Arguments that cite the ensuing market panic and erosion of confidence that erupted after Lehman’s failure are near-sighted and fail to appreciate the larger picture motivating policy makers’ decision. Regulators’ decision not to rescue the then fourth largest investment bank, an institution assumed “too big to fail,” dispensed a necessary wake-up call to deluded and unruly Wall Street firms, which had been lulled into a costly false sense of security. The question of whether regulators did the right thing in allowing Lehman to fail cannot be studied in a vacuum; it must be considered alongside the more consequential question of whether regulators made the right decision in saving Bear Stearns. In 2007, the Fed’s extension of a $29 billion loan to Bear Stearns rewrote the tacit rules that had governed the political and fiscal landscape for centuries, substantiating the notion that institutions could be “too big or too interconnected to fail.” The comforting assumption that regulators would intervene to save every systemically important institution from failure was a turning point in the crisis, “setting the stage for [the financial carnage] that followed” (34). After the Bear Stearns intervention, regulators faced a formidable and insuperable enemy: the inexorable march of time. It would be an unsustainable situation for the government to continue bailing out every ailing financial firm. “These officials would have eventually had to say ‘no’ to someone, sometime. The Corps of Financial Engineers drew the line at Lehman. They might have been able to let the process run a few weeks more and let the bill get bigger, but ultimately, they would have had to stop. And when they did expectations would be dashed and markets would adjust. If Lehman had been saved, someone else would have been allowed to fail. The only consequence would be the date when we commemorate the anniversary of the crisis, not that the crisis would have been forever averted. ” (35). The Lehman decision corrected the costly market expectations created by Bear Stearns’ rescue and restored efficiency and discipline to markets. Throughout the crisis, policymakers, unable to completely avoid damage, were forced to decide which parties would bear losses. Lehman’s demise was a reincarnation and emblem of their past decisions–their precedent of taxpayer burden had further encouraged Wall Street’s excessive leverage and reckless behavior (36). Saving Lehman would have simply hammered these skewed incentives further into markets, putting the long-term stability and structure of capitalist markets at risk. Taxpayers would have been forced to foot a bill regardless of the Fed’s final decision: if not directly through a bailout, then indirectly through layoffs and economic turmoil (37). Instead of saddling taxpayers with the lingering threat of a large bill in the future, the Fed made the prudent and far-sighted decision to hand them a smaller bill today. The Fed heeded the wisdom of the age-old adage, “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.” Put simply, the economic “calculus” of policymakers was correct. While rescuing Lehman may have seemed tantalizing at the time, the long-term costs would have been far more consequential than the short-term benefits (38). Political connotations often accompany this argument, evocative of what some have christened the Fed’s “painful yet necessary lesson on moral hazard;” however, partisan beliefs are extraneous to the simple, economic facts of the matter. From a fiscal perspective, policymakers made the right choice to let Lehman fail by shrewdly choosing long-term economic order over short-term benefits. (3) The Right Decision from a Taxpayers’ Perspective Given financial markets’ complete loss of confidence in Lehman and the unnervingly fragile state of the economy, an attempt at a Lehman rescue (within or above the law) would not only have been a fruitless, but also a seriously unjust use of taxpayer dollars. The health of an investment bank hinges upon the willingness of customers and counterparties to deal with it, and according to former Secretary Geithner, “that confidence was just gone” (39). By the weekend, the market had already lost complete confidence in Lehman: “no one believed that the assets were worth their nominal value of $640 billion; a run on its assets was already underway, its liquidity was vanishing, and its stock price had fallen by 42% on just Friday September 12th; it couldn’t survive the weekend” (40). For all practical purposes, the markets had sealed Lehman’s fate and a last-minute government liquidity line could have done nothing to change it. In testimony, Bernanke aptly characterizes a loan to supplant the firms’ disappearing liquidity as a prodigal expenditure, “merely wast- ing taxpayer money for an outcome that was unlikely to change” (41). After the fallout of the Barclays deal, many experts have argued that the Fed should have provided liquidity support during a search for another buyer, since temporary liquidity assistance from the government might have extinguished the escalating crisis. However, such an open-ended government commitment that allowed Lehman to shop for an “indefinite time period” would have been an absurd waste of public money (42). If the Fed had indeed provided liquidity aid up to some generous valuation of Lehman’s collateral, “the creditors to Lehman could have cashed out 100 cents on the dollar, leaving taxpayers holding the bag for losses” (43). The loan would not have prevented failure, but only chosen which creditors would bear Lehman’s losses at the expense of others. On September 15, “Lehman [was] really nothing more than the sum of its toxic assets and shattered reputation as a venerable brokerage”(44). It would have been an egregious abuse of the democratic tax system if the government were to bail out Lehman, leaving the public at the whims of the fragile financial markets and saddling them with an uncapped bill for Wall Street’s imprudence. While virulent rumors of Lehman’s failure as political save-face by regulators may prevail in mainstream media, I maintain that the Fed’s deci- sion was the right one for the American public (45). (4) TARP: Lehman Begat the Legislation that Revived the Financial System In considering the relative importance of Lehman as the cause of the crisis, scholars must also consider the more nuanced and hard-hitting counterpart: “How important was Lehman as a cause of the end of the Crisis? ” While in the context of the suffering caused by the Great Recession and the polarizing rhetoric of “bailing out banks,” this question is politically unpopular; I broach it nonetheless, since it is an important facet of the debate on whether regulators made the “right decision.” Lehman’s failure was vitally important to the end of the Crisis–it allowed the Troubled Asset Relief Program (TARP) to pass Congress, a critical piece of legislation that equipped regulators with the tools ultimately necessary to repair the financial system (46). Every previous effort of the Fed (creating the PDCF, rescuing Bear Stearns, the conservatorship of Fannie and Freddie) was not enough to salvage the deteriorating financial system–by September 2008 “Merrill Lynch, Lehman, and AIG were all at the edge of failure, and Washington Mutual, Wachovia, Goldman Sachs, and Morgan Stanley were all approaching the abyss” (47). The Fed needed the authority to inject capital into the financial system, and as described in Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine , Lehman’s unexpected fall acted as the final catastrophic spark necessary to “prompt the hasty emergency action involving the relinquishment of rights and funds that would otherwise be difficult to pry loose from the citizenry” (48). With authority to inject up to $700 billion of capital into suffering non-bank institutions, TARP preserved the crumbling financial system by inspiring them to lend again. The government offered $250 billion in capital to the nine most systemically important institutions, and used $90 billion in TARP financing to save the teetering financial giants, Bank of America and Citigroup (49). Exactly how much credit TARP deserves for averting financial catastrophe is unclear, yet the fact remains that coupled with Geithner’s Stress Tests, TARP helped stop the county’s spiral into what could have been a crisis as dire as the Great Depression. IV. Conclusion In this essay, I have shown that the Fed exploited the vagueness of Section 13(3) to ad- vance their political, economic, and moral agenda to let Lehman fail, and asserted that policymakers made the right choice in allowing Lehman to fail (weighing economic facts, the implications of future economic landscape, taxpayers’ rights, and the passage of land- mark legislation). It may have been easier for regulators to hide behind legal jargon and technicalities than to defend the economic rationale and practicality of their onerous decision to an audience of distressed Americans; however, this ease is not without the costs of continued confusion, misleading conventional wisdom, and bitter citizenry. Lehman’s bankruptcy will forever be synonymous with the financial crisis and (resulting) wealth destruction.” -Paul Hickey, founder of Bespoke Investment Group (50). Lehman’s failure left an indelible mark in history and a tireless refrain of diverging and potent emotions towards regulators: contempt for the Fed that “triggered the Crisis,” disdain for the government that bailed out Wall Street with TARP, and hatred of impressionable leaders who “bowed” to political pressure. It is indeed easier to accept a visceral and tangible moment like Lehman’s failure as a cause of suffering than the nihilistic and elusive fact that the buildup of leverage and the burst of the housing bubble caused the crisis. However, it is not enough for only academics and policymakers to understand that “Lehman’s failure was a product of the forces that created the crisis, not a fundamental cause of those forces” (51). Conventional wisdom must be rewritten for the sake of faith in the government and the prevention of future crises. Our acceptance of why Lehman was allowed to die must move beyond the apportioning of responsibility or the distribution of reparations–we must redirect the futile obsession over the legality and morality of the Fed’s decision towards the imbalances in the financial system that caused the Crisis to begin with. Endnotes 1 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 340. 2 Ibid. 3 Clark, “Lehman Brothers Rescue Would Have Been Unlawful, Insists Bernanke.” 4 Judge, “Lehman Brothers: How Good Policy Can Make Bad Law.” 5 Fettig, The History of a Powerful Paragraph. 6 Ball, The Fed and Lehman Brothers, 5. 7 Stewart, Eight Days. 8 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 435. 9 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 340. 10 Ibid. 11 Calabria, “Letting Lehman Fail was a Choice, and It Was the Right One.” 12 Chu, “Barclays Ends Talks to Buy Lehman Brothers.” 13 Ball, The Fed and Lehman Brothers. 14 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 337. 15 Ball, The Fed and Lehman Brothers, 141. 16 Ibid, 11. 17 Ibid, 133. 18 J.B. Stewart and Eavis, “Revisiting the Lehman Brothers Bailout that Never Was.” 19 Ibid. 20 Judge, “Lehman Brothers: How Good Policy Can Make Bad Law.” 21 Tarhan, “Does the federal reserve affect asset prices? 22 Judge, “Lehman Brothers: How Good Policy Can Make Bad Law.” 23 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 433. 24 Sengupta & Tam. 25 J.B. Stewart, “Eight Days.” 26 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 435. 27 O’Brien, “Would saving Lehman have saved us from the Great Recession?” 28 Ibid. 29 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 436. 30 Geithner & Metrick, Ten Years after the Financial Crisis: A Conversation with Timothy Geithner. 31 Skeel, “History credits Lehman Brothers’ collapse for the 2008 financial crisis. Here’s why that narrative is wrong.” 32 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 436. 33 J.B. Stewart and Eavis, “Revisiting the Lehman Brothers Bailout that Never Was.” 34 Skeel, “History credits Lehman Brothers’ collapse for the 2008 financial crisis. Here’s why that narrative is wrong.” 35 Reinhart, “A Year of Living Dangerously: The Management of the Financial Crisis in 2008.” 36 Ibid. 37 Antoncic, “Opinion | Lehman Failed for Good Reasons.” 38 Reinhart, “A Year of Living Dangerously: The Management of the Financial Crisis in 2008.” 39 Geithner & Metrick, Ten Years after the Financial Crisis: A Conversation with Timothy Geithner. 40 J.B. Stewart, “Eight Days.” 41 Public Affairs, The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, 435. 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid. 44 Grunwald, “The Truth About the Wall Street Bailouts.” 45 Erman, “Five years after Lehman, Americans still angry at Wall Street: Reuters/Ipsos poll.” 46 Geithner & Metrick, Ten Years after the Financial Crisis: A Conversation with Timothy Geithner. 47 Ibid. 48 Erman, “Five years after Lehman, Americans still angry at Wall Street: Reuters/Ipsos poll.” 49 J.B. Stewart, “Eight Days.” 50 Straders, “The Lehman Brothers Collapse and How It’s Changed the Economy Today.” 51 Geithner & Metrick, Ten Years after the Financial Crisis: A Conversation with Timothy Geithner. Bibliography Antoncic, M. (2018, September). Opinion | Lehman Failed for Good Reasons. The New York Times . Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/09/17/ opinion/lehman-brothers- financial-crisis.html Ball, L. (2016). THE FED AND LEHMAN BROTHERS . 218. Calabria, M. (2014). Letting Lehman Fail Was a Choice, and It Was the Right One | Cato Institute. Retrieved December 7, 2019, from https://www. cato.org/publications/commentary/letting-lehman-fail-was-choice-it-was- right-one Chu, Kathy. 2008. “Barclays Ends Talks to Buy Lehman Brothers.” ABC News . Retrieved January 3, 2021, from https://abcnews.go.com/Business/sto- ry?id=5800790&page=1 Clark, Andrew. 2010. “Lehman Brothers Rescue Would Have Been Unlaw- ful, Insists Bernanke.” The Guardian . Retrieved January 1, 2021 (http:// www.theguardian.com/business/2010/sep/02/lehman-bailout-unlaw- ful-says-bernanke). Erman, M. (2013, September 15). Five years after Lehman, Americans still angry at Wall Street: Reuters/Ipsos poll. Reuters . Retrieved from https://www. reuters.com/article/us-wallstreet- crisis-idUSBRE98E06Q20130915 Fettig, D. (2008, June). The History of a Powerful Paragraph | Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis . https://www.minneapolisfed.org:443/article/2008/the-histo- ry-of-a- powerful-paragraph Geithner, T., & Metrick, A. (2018). Ten Years after the Financial Crisis: A Conver- sation with Timothy Geithner . Retrieved from https://www.ssrn.com/ab- stract=3246017 Grunwald, M. (2014, September). The Truth About the Wall Street Bailouts | Time. Retrieved December 7, 2019, from https://time.com/3450110/ aig-lehman/ Kathryn Judge. (2018, September 11). Lehman Brothers: How Good Policy Can Make Bad Law. Retrieved December 3, 2019, from CLS Blue Sky Blog website: http://clsbluesky.law.columbia.edu/2018/09/11/lehman-brothers- how-good-policy-can-make-bad-law/ O’Brien, M. (2018, September). Would saving Lehman have saved us from the Great Recession? - The Washington Post. Retrieved December 4, 2019, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2018/09/20/would-sav- ing-lehman-have- saved-us-great-recession/ Reinhart, V. (2011). A Year of Living Dangerously: The Management of the Fi- nancial Crisis in 2008. Journal of Economic Perspectives , 25 (1), 71–90. Re- trieved from https://doi.org/10.1257/jep.25.1.71 Skeel, D. (2018, September 20). History credits Lehman Brothers’ collapse for the 2008 financial crisis. Here’s why that narrative is wrong. Retrieved November 17, 2019, from Brookings website: https://www.brookings.edu/ research/history-credits-lehman-brothers-collapse-for- the-2008-financial- crisis-heres-why-that-narrative-is-wrong/ Spector, S. C. and M. (2010, March 13). Repos Played a Key Role in Lehman’s Demise. Wall Street Journal . Retrieved from https://www.wsj.com/articles/ SB10001424052748703447104575118150651790066 Sraders, A. (2018). The Lehman Brothers Collapse and How It’s Changed the Economy Today. 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- God Save the Fish: The Abyss of Electoral Politics in Trade Talks—a Brexit Case Study
Eleanor Ruscitti God Save the Fish: The Abyss of Electoral Politics in Trade Talks—a Brexit Case Study Eleanor Ruscitti “The EU is continuing to make demands that are incompatible with our independence... we cannot accept a deal that doesn’t leave us in control of our own laws or waters” ~ Boris Johnson on December 20, 2020 (1-2). Abstract During the “exit negotiations” between the United Kingdom (UK) and the European Union (EU), the relatively economically insignificant fishing industry received a disproportionate share of not just UK media attention, but global press as well; not to mention an array of political machinations, which almost halted a free trade agreement between two of the world’s largest trading partners. This evaluation seeks to understand why such disproportional influence existed. Why were both the EU and the UK coming to blows over something as seemingly innocuous as fishing, and willing to risk the most significant trade agreement in recent European history? Existing subject matter literature cites history and symbolism as the main factors that brought fishing into the limelight, almost killing a multi-billion-dollar trade deal between these two primary trade partners. While this paper concurs with existing analysis, it finds further illumination in the murky waters of electoral politics. It argues that the Conservative Party brought fishing to the trade talk surface to demonstrate that they were protecting a disenfranchised industry while aiming to convey the benefits of Brexit to maintain votes and prevent Scottish secession. More broadly, this paper sheds light on the potential ramifications that domestic politicians have on free trade agreements, especially in this new global populist era where the leverage of the disenfranchised is key; an affirmation of the American colloquial- ism that “all politics is local” (3). I: Introduction A Fishy Paradox From many perspectives, most of the Brexit drama did not make sense. From an economic point of view, it made more sense for the United Kingdom (UK) to remain in the European Union (EU) to keep access to the European Single Market (Single Market) and their largest and longest trading partners, especially in an era of increasing globalization. However, even though the vast majority of expert opinions concluded that leaving the EU would be economically disastrous for the UK, in the summer of 2016, its citizens voted to leave. Brexit was not just about economics, though. It was a reaction of nostalgia and entrenchment vis-à-vis a world that was rapidly becoming more interconnected with the EU leading the way. As the offshoring of lower productivity sectors of the economy and the development of more technologically advanced goods and services providers sailed ahead, once-thriving industries were no longer key to the economy. These changes left many in the UK workforce feeling stranded in an unnavigable wake of market disruption, while Brussels charted a course toward ever-increasing globalization. The disenfranchised felt as though they were under the thumb of Brussels, having to abide by laws that they believed were unfavorable to the UK. A rather sentimental notion of sovereignty and the call for “taking back control” resonated within certain portions of the British populace. Their goal was to withdraw from their largest economic market to regain full regulatory control yet maintain access to the Single Market via a free trade deal that represented over 40 percent of its exports (4). When the time came to negotiate this free trade deal, economic reasoning took a back seat, again. As the final days of the deal approached, most of the negotiations had been settled. However, over a dinner of pumpkin soup, scallops, and steamed turbot with mashed potatoes (a not-so-subtle nod to the feud) UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson and EU President of the Commission Ursula von der Leyen almost derailed the entire deal for the seemingly economically insignificant fishing industry (5). Johnson left the dinner asserting that “very large gaps remain between the two sides (regarding a fishing deal) and it is still unclear whether these can be bridged.” Von der Leyen said that “we understand each other’s positions. But [we] remain far apart” (6). With only 15 days left to seal the deal, and no consensus on fishing in sight, many were left confused and frustrated. The fishing industry employs roughly 12,000 workers out of a UK workforce of over 33 million (excluding the processing industry, which employs a larger portion); represents 0.1 percent of British domestic output; 0.2 percent of EU GDP; and accounts for just 0.8 percent of total EU-UK trade (7, 8, 9, 10). It produces a little more than £1 billion of the total £300 billion worth of UK exports. It seemed that the UK was effectively putting at risk over 99 percent of its trade with the EU to defend an industry that accounted for a mere fraction of the world’s sixth-largest economy. Even Harrods in London contributes more to the British economy (11). Many questioned why the British government was prepared to risk the most important trade negotiations in recent British history over an industry that barely even touches the economic needle, let alone moves it. Literature Review Academics and journalists alike, such as Professor Anand Menon (12), Jeremy Phillipson (13), Sophia Kopela (14), and Stijn Billiet (15) tried to address the paradox, but the vast majority failed to account for the genesis of the paradox by failing to consider the role of elections and electoral politics. Professor Menon argued that the British government’s focus on the repatriation of fishing rights was instrumentally relevant because it was symbolic and represented a commitment to the “left behind.” Menon asserted that the media’s amplification of the issue brought it to relevance, and in a sense, forced Johnson to act (16, 17). Other scholars, such as Craig McAngus, Christopher Huggins, and John Connolly concluded that since fishing was one of the most Europeanized policies for the UK, it would receive the most attention throughout the trade talks (18, 19). On par with the rest of Brexit, the answer lies in convoluted domestic politics rather than economic reasoning. As mentioned in previous analyses, the fishing industry was perceived as a symbol for the wider movement fueling Brexit: “taking back control” and revitalizing a domestic industry that was lost under the heel of the EU boot. Politicians focused on it in order to create an image that the government was helping the citizens, and particularly, the disenfranchised (20). The cause for this might not be just because of the media’s influence, as per Menon’s analysis, but rather because of a synergistically strong confluence of the Scottish fishing lobby, an upcoming Scottish general election, and the Conservative party’s political agenda. II: Why Do Politicians Protect and Amplify Certain Industries in Free- Trade Agreements? Theoretical Frameworks: Lobbying Influence and the Self-Serving Politician There are a multitude of theories regarding the significance of certain industries in trade talks, often finding answers in lobby groups and politicians’ electoral objectives. Typically, democratically elected/appointed officials ultimately determine trade agreements. As theorized by Robert Putnam in 1988, the politics of trade agreements are often a two-level game in which public sector officials/politicians are simultaneously in negotiations at both the international and the domestic levels (21). Putnam assessed that domestic groups pressure the officials to adopt favorable policies and, in turn, these officials seek to amplify their power by developing relationships with these groups who offer support via votes or campaign contributions (22). Politicians then go to the international level and seek to maximize their ability to satisfy domestic pressures while balancing the needs of their international partners (23). Following Putnam’s two-level game theory, Gene Grossman and Elhanan Helpman introduced special-interest politics into the analysis, analyzing profit-maximizing lobbying groups. They found that, “lobbies seek to curry favor with politicians who covet their financial support... seeking to maximize the aggregate welfare of the lobby groups’ members” (24). As the politician’s objective is to maximize their own political welfare––which often relies on having a large number of contributions––they champion the policy of those who donate the most. In other words, those who donate the most have purchased the most access to influence during trade talks. Sometimes, though, the most influence comes from industries that do not have deep pockets. In 1982, Arye Hillman assessed why politicians put their support behind declining industries that have little special-interest money and/or little economic or voting influence (25). Hillman found that politicians protect and promote declining industries for self-interest motives to maximize political support, rather than for altruistic ideals, as the industry will still typically decline even with protection (26). However, a strong influence of a declining industry may not solely manifest from a politician’s political agenda. In “Entry and Asymmetric Lobbying: Why Governments Pick Losers”, Richard Baldwin and Frederic Robert-Nicoud use Grossman and Helpman’s 1994 pressure group approach to conclude that while government policy is influenced by pressure groups that employ expensive lobby- ing tactics, losers (such as declining industries) lobby more diligently through less expensive means (27). They concluded that it is not just the government that picks the losers, but rather it is also the losers that pick the government (28). The Fishing Industry as a “Loser” Lobbyist It is helpful to use Grossman and Helpman’s campaign finance lobbying, Hillman’s self-serving/re-election interests, and Baldwin’s and Robert-Nicoud loser lobbying framework to contextualize the fishing paradox. To begin, one must view the fishing industry as a lobbyist and Johnson as a political welfare maximizer. However, the fishing industry is not the lobbyist illustrated by Grossman and Helpman. After analyzing over 7,000 donations to both Conservative Party and Unionist Party between 2016-2020, the Scottish Fishing Federation and the National Federation of Fishermen did not appear to make meaningful contributions to the party. Several material contributions came from the fishing towns, yet such donations did not correlate with the amount of influence achieved. From 2016-2020, of the £169,449,385 donated to both parties, only £275,950 came from relevant coastal towns––roughly 0.163 percent (29). It is a bit of a conundrum, as according to Grossman and Helpman, the more robust sectors that donate the most would receive the highest levels of government support. When applying Baldwin and Robert-Nicod’s theory, though, it becomes clear that the fishers were not campaign contribution lobbyists, rather they were “loser” lobbyists who were loud and deliberate. They saw the Brexit movement as their policy opportunity and harnessed their symbolic nature to make themselves quite relevant in final trade talks. Concurrently, Johnson acted as a political welfare maximizer. When applying Hillman’s theory, the declining fishing community became relevant to the Conservatives, who hoped to maximize political support for electoral gains, re-election, and legacy. The newly formed Johnson administration needed to amplify an easy-to-understand industry that resonated with Brexit supporters and exemplified regained sovereignty. But it is often overlooked that the Conservatives also needed an industry that could help maintain the Tory Scottish Parliament seats and form a bulwark against the growing post-Brexit Scottish independence movement. The industry that conveniently and succinctly represented these values was the Scottish fishing industry. To see how this fits together, the story of Brexit and the fishing industry should be traced. First, we will examine the path to Brexit and the ways in which fishing––particularly the Scottish fisher––was influential from the beginning. Then we will scrutinize the trade talks and the political machinations of each actor. We will see that the political endgames of politicians are apparent in trade talks and domestic electoral gains often materially influence their tack as they adjust for the ever-changing political winds. III: A Deep-Seated History Part 1: How Did the UK Get to Brexit? An Overview of UK/EU Relationship: A Troubled Beginning As Professors Vivien Schmidt and Jolyon Howorth note, “Brexit was, in many ways, an accident waiting to happen” (30). The UK and the EU always had an am- bivalent relationship––a noncommittal half-in, half-out—in which the UK has been referred to as the “awkward partner” that never really embraced the deeper political, cultural, and ideological ambitions of her partners across the Channel. In the aftermath of WWII, the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) was created in 1951 to ensure stability across the continent by linking economies. While the UK embraced the idea of a united Europe, she saw herself as a separate entity––not just physically, but culturally as well. She was an island empire on which the sun had never set. But as the empire declined in stature and size during the post-war recovery period, she realized that in order to achieve her global ambitions in the new post-imperial world, she may find herself in a useful position to be the bridge between the US and the new ECSC: the European Economic Community (EEC). After two prior attempts, the UK finally joined in 1973 under Tory Prime Minister Edward Heath (31). However, Euroscepticism reigned from the get-go. Labour leader Hugh Gaitskell argued that a federal Europe would mean the “end of Britain as an independent European state” and promised to hold a referendum if elected (32). Two years later, in 1975, Labour formed a government under Harold Wilson and held the UK’s first EU referendum (33). Although closely divided, the UK would vote “Yes” to a united Europe, with the then-Europhile Conservative leader Margret Thatcher leading the way for the Conservatives, while Labour remained extremely divided over the subject (34). Thatcher’s Europhilism, however, was short-lived. A staunch supporter of the Single Market, Thatcher ultimately changed course due to the contentious Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) and its budget contributions (35). She felt that the UK contributed more than its fair share of funding. Rhetoric of losing power and control to Brussels became common in her speeches and while her Eurosceptic agenda and rhetoric would ultimately become her downfall, it planted the seed for a growing anti-Europe movement that divided both parties internally (36). This seed later found its political moment amongst the disenfranchised in 2016 after a Conservative political opportunist called another EU referendum in hopes of bridging a divided Tory Party and securing a re-election win. Divisions within the Tories regarding Europe had been brewing since the Thatcher years, and were proving to be problematic for David Cameron’s upcoming general election as the rise of a relatively new right-wing populist party, the UK Independence Party (UKIP), began siphoning off the Conservative Eurosceptic votes. Hoping to mitigate Tory Europhile defections, Cameron promised an EU membership referendum if re-elected, believing that the party would vote to remain (37). The result was a complete miscalculation as he underestimated just how powerful Euroscepticism had become. The country split into two camps: Leave vs. Remain. The Remain campaign took a negative approach, focusing their argument on the economic consequences of a vote to leave (38). As mentioned, however, Brexit was not about economics and, as such, it did not resonate at the doorstep. The Leave campaigns led by Boris Johnson and former UKIP leader Nigel Farage took a more emotional, visceral approach that resonated well with the disenfranchised who felt that the globally interconnected EU was the source of all their problems. They had seen their employment opportunities evaporate as the industrial sector left the country and viewed the EU as their scapegoat. The campaigns of Vote Leave and Leave.EU tapped into this discontent, arguing to “take back control” of a trade by creating their own trade deals, revitalizing declining industries, and bringing jobs back to Britain (39). The Take Back Control mantra percolated throughout the country and was succinctly exemplified with the vignette of the fishing industry. The fishing industry perfectly embodied the Conservative Leave movement––it was an industry key to the British identity, but was disenfranchised and felt powerless and expendable, and held deep-seated resentment towards Europe. This resentment was a manifestation of an EU policy known as the Common Fisheries Policy (CFP) that seeks to conserve fishing stocks and ensure fair competition in European waters by setting catching quotas for European fishing vessels based on 1983 catch activity (40, 41). The EU can determine quotas in each boundary as the policy requires that each member state pool its sovereignty and open its Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) to all member states, creating a ‘European Water’ and overriding the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (42). To understand why the British held deep resentment towards this policy, one must understand the fishing wars. Part 2: Fishing Wars To Control or Not to Control, That is the Question As an island nation, Britain has had an obsession with claiming ownership and sovereignty of its waters, at times to the point of belligerency. Fishing has always been key to British identity, especially Scottish identity, which makes it a rather sensitive topic. The tension between the Island and the Continent regarding the open seas dates back to the Anglo-Dutch wars and grew throughout the Anglo-French rivalry and crescendoed with the infamous 1950s-70s Cod Wars where the UK and Iceland faced off over British access to the rich cod waters off the coast of Iceland (43, 44). These violent showdowns repeated throughout multiple decades, with Iceland almost leaving NATO and falling into the Soviet orbit (45). The clash ended with the UK’s long-distance fishing fleets losing access to Iceland’s lucrative fishing grounds followed by a sharp decline in fishing industry revenues. Around the same time, the UK joined the EU and was required to join the contentious CFP. The UK’s fishing industry was wary about entering the CFP and pooling access to its waters, relinquishing control over its EEZ. Academics, politicians, and journalists alike wondered why the Heath government did not try to negotiate an opt-out of the CFP––an action for which the UK is famous––or even negotiate a better deal for the UK (46). The answer circles back to Iceland. When the UK lost its long-distance access to Iceland, there was little inshore activity to replace it as the nation had become so dependent on the white fish from the more northern seas (47). British fishers were not fishing near the British coast. As such, most of the quota rights for inshore fishing went to the French, Dutch, and Danish fishers during the accession negotiations (48). The Resentful Fishers This did not sit well with the fishers, particularly the Scottish fishers, who watched their industry decline just as the EU gained access to UK waters. When asked about Britain’s entrance into the CFP, Scottish fisher Baden Gibson insisted that: “The EU and its fisheries policy have destroyed businesses beyond fishing... If you fish outside of your quota the penalties can be fierce— my worry would be that I would lose my boat and then I would lose everything. I realize that there must be quotas, but it should be fishing organizations who set those quotas” (49). Fishers felt a loss of control and that the government sold them out for access to the Single Market. This was further exacerbated when it came down to ownership of the quotas. Over the years, more and more foreign entities started to own Brit- ish fishing fleets, with 50 percent of all English quotas “owned” by British-flagged ships that were actually Spanish, Dutch, or Icelandic; that is about £160 million worth of England’s fishing quota (50, 51). The feeling of loss of control was palpable. It must be noted that it was not necessarily Brussels causing the decline. Rather, it was overfishing and advances in technology that prevented fishers from achieving previous catching thresholds as well as the aftermath of the Cod Wars that prevented them from fishing in certain areas. Another factor was the rise of multimillion-dollar fishing companies in the UK (52). Nonetheless, British fishers did not see it this way. From their perspective, the correlation was objectively clear: the UK fishing industry thrived before EU membership, but as part of the EU, it died at the hands of the quotas. Reforming the Common Fisheries Policy Calls were made by the fishing industry to reform the CFP, and in 2014, the European Commission tried to do so, putting forth reforms that would increase the labor market mobility of fishers (53). These schemes were criticized as they did not consider the local and cultural factors enough and did not give countries sufficient control over the quota issue. The reforms adjusted the European Maritime and Fisheries Fund and allowed member states to manage 89 percent of it, while the European Commission would manage 11 percent (54). However, that still did not fix the unpopular element of being too distant and top-down with rules dictated by Brussels, far away from the UK and even further from understanding the local fishers’ needs (55). The fishers wanted a greater say in fishery management; they wanted to decentralize the decision-making structures as they felt like bystanders in decisions that impacted them greatly. Part 1: The Referendum Brexit as a Policy Window for Fishers The EU referendum was the fishing industry’s “policy window” under Leave’s rally cry of “Take Back Control.” It was finally time to expel the European vessels from British waters and manage their fish stocks independently. Rather than lobbying via campaign contributions, as Grossman and Helpman’s theory predicts, the fishing industry-aligned more with Baldwin and Robert-Nicoud’s theory of lobbying diligently through less expensive means. In this case, the less expensive means came in the form of a new 21st-century campaign tool: social media. UKIP’s Nigel Farage teamed up with the campaign group Fishing for Leave (FFL) to storm social media and conduct demonstrations, calling for the UK to leave the EU and leave the CFP. To make a public display of discontent and grievances a few days before the referendum, Farage led a 35-boat flotilla of fishers up the Thames, asserting that “today’s flotilla is not a celebration or a party but a full-throttled protest. We want our waters back” (56). He also said that “one thing I can promise you, is that you are about to hear a lot about the fishing industry” (57). They were vociferous lobbyists who would become a key electoral constituency for the Conservatives. The hope, and promise, was that leaving the EU would allow the UK to reclaim fishing dominance and sovereignty over their territorial waters, which would, in turn, see fishing communities thrive again with replenished stock and the return of jobs. On June 26, 2016, the referendum was held, and the UK voted to leave 51 percent to 48 percent. The fishing industry, as predicted, was a firm supporter, especially the Scottish fishers (58). A pre-referendum survey indicated that 92 percent of Scottish fishers intended to vote to leave (59). Fishing communities such as Banff and Buchan voted for Brexit, with around 54 percent voting to leave, but were outnumbered by the rest of Scotland who largely voted to remain (60). They were a small, disenfranchised group within a larger community that found a policy window and representation within the Brexiteers. They would become incredibly important to the Conservatives who needed to keep a seat at the team in Scotland. Part 2: The Trade Talks The Conservative’s Seat at the Scottish Table: The Rise of the Politically Important Scottish Fishers The Scottish fishers were Brexiteers, but that did not necessarily mean they were pro-Tory. After Heath’s historic 1973 betrayal of fishing, Scotland’s northeast fishing community channeled its anger by voting with the pro-independence, social democratic Scottish National Party (SNP) for the following decades. The Tories were treacherous in the eyes of the fishers, best underscored by the 1973 quote from a UK civil servant: “In light of Britain’s wider European interests they, the Scottish fishermen, are expendable” (61). While the Scottish Tories initially lost the community’s trust, gaining it back was easier than one may think as the Scottish fisheries did not ideologically align with the rest of Scotland and the SNP. Leading up to the referendum, Scottish scholar Dr. Craig McAngus conducted a survey of Scottish fishers’ demographic characteristics as well as their political, social, and constitutional attitudes. McAngus found that they were: (1) a unionized industrial working class made up of mostly middle-aged men with standard grade qualifications who value self-sufficiency and sense of freedom to succeed in their profession and take on a libertarian ideology that is skeptical of state intervention; (2) very Eurosceptic, portraying themselves as “victims of an overly bureaucratic and unsympathetic governance regime,” and would lean towards the Conservative Party rather than the Labour Party whose values of collectivism and socialist principles conflicted with their notion of an unsympathetic governance regime; (3) differing from the rest of the Scottish population in that they tended to trust the UK Government more than the Scottish Government, which seems contradictory at first given Heath’s 1973 betrayal for access to the Single Market, however, their support relates to the Scottish independence movement. As the Scottish Government is currently led by the SNP, and as the fishers tend to be more British-unionist, conflicts often arise between the secession-seeking Scottish government and the union-seeking fishing industry. How the British Government Attempted to Divert Fisher’s Support Away from SNP to Scottish Tory via Brexit Scottish independence from the UK has been a divisive topic ever since Scot- land joined the UK in 1707. In a 2014 independence referendum, Scotland voted to remain in the UK, 55 percent to 45 percent, but the debate never settled. Scot- land’s First Minister Nicola Sturgeon continued to push for another referendum, rather than receiving additional devolved powers from Westminster (which had been done in the past as a way for Westminster to circumvent Scottish independence). After the Brexit referendum, her calls for independence grew louder than ever as the majority of Scotland voted to remain in the EU––62 percent to 32 percent. Sturgeon argued that it was undemocratic for Scotland to be “dragged out of the EU against its will,” demanding another independence referendum–– indyref2––and then hoping to re-join the EU.62 But, to hold another referendum on Scottish independence, the UK’s Prime Minister must grant formal permission and the newly minted PM Boris Johnson did not support such. Johnson and other supporters of a unified UK argued that the 2014 referendum was a once-in-a-generation opportunity––a phrase Sturgeon campaigned on back in 2014––and asserted that under this reasoning, another referendum should not be held for another 40+ years. On the horizon, however, was the upcoming May 2021 Scottish Parliament election, thus Johnson and his Scottish Tory counterparts were finding themselves in a political pickle. Opinion polls saw a sizable shift from a slight majority of pro-independence voters in 2019 to a solid majority in 2020. Analysts attributed this shift to Brexit, and also to Sturgeon’s handling of the Coronavirus, which many believed had been better than Johnson’s. With polls indicating that the SNP was on course to win an overall majority in the May 2021 Scottish Parliament election, polling expert Sir John Curtice said that the country “seem[ed] headed for a significant clash between the UK and Scottish governments over whether another independence referendum should be held” (63). Conservatives started to worry that if they lost their Scottish Tory seats to the SNP, the Scottish Parliament would be comprised mostly, if not all, of the SNP. Scottish Tories would lose their voice in the Scottish Government, and Westminster would have to grant an independence referendum if asked, or risk being further branded as undemocratic. There was, however, a Brexit-supporting Scottish constituency that could potentially save the Scottish Tories: the Scottish fishers. As mentioned previously, fisheries have been caught between supporting the SNP and the Tories for decades. The fisheries voted SNP in the years after Heath’s “betrayal,” as the then-SNP Leader Alex Salmond sought to bring Scotland out of the CFP (64). During the 2014 independence referendum, Salmond made fishing a material role in the SNP’s campaign, asserting that if independence was gained, fishing would be the #1 national priority and would have direct representation in the EU (65). The issue, however, was that the fishers wanted out of the CFP, not more EU representation, which is what Salmond was campaigning for. As a result, SNP lost a large majority of the fisheries in the 2015 Scottish Parliament election. The hemorrhaging of fishing votes continued when the Brexiteers campaigned to “Take Back Control” during the 2016 EU/UK referendum. The 2017 Scottish Parliament elections saw a loss of fishing votes from SNP to Scottish Conservatives. The Tories increased their hold from one seat in 2015 to 13 in 2017, gaining the northeast fishing community seats as per figure 11 (66, 67). Figure 11 (68) Yellow indicates SNP seats, orange indicates Liberal Democrats, red indicates Labour, and blue indicates Scottish Tory. Brexit was the perfect opportunity for the Conservative Party to regain both the fishers’ trust and seats in the Scottish Parliament. Once they regained that support, they could potentially prevent independence by keeping the vote. The game was not over, though. The SNP made it its goal to regain coastal communities by illustrating that the Tories could not be trusted in looking out for Scotland’s best interests.69 Conservatives then countered by making fishing a key part of the “exit-negotiations.” A Hiccup: When May did not prioritize the Fisheries After the referendum, Cameron stepped down and Theresa May assumed Tory leadership in 2016. May called a snap election in 2017 in hopes of increasing her party’s slim majority in the lower house and having a stronger mandate to negotiate a Brexit deal with the EU. However, due to a resurgent Labour Party, May did not gain a majority and had to form a confidence-and-supply agreement with ten MPs of Northern Ireland’s Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) (70). That being said, May did gain some Scottish coastal seats due to the 2017 surge in Scottish Tory support. Suddenly, Scottish fishers––as well as the DUP––became one of the preeminent interest groups for May’s coalition, as they were some of the few who kept her party from anemic minority status. Appeasing them and creating and maintaining trust would be necessary to get her Brexit deal approved and to keep Scottish Parliament seats. May proceeded with her Brexit plans and announced a Fisheries Bill to take back control of British waters and remove fishing quotas after the country with- drew from the EU (71). This pleased the fishers, but as 2017 progressed, the EU countries whose fishing industries were heavily dependent on access to UK waters became worried that access to the waters would be completely severed and that the EU would set an undesirable precedent for its member nations. Denmark claimed it had historical rights to fish in British waters dating back to the 1400s, while other EU countries claimed that the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea stated that countries must respect each other’s “traditional fishing rights”, and the ability to access British waters fell under traditional rights (72). In March of 2018, then-Brexit Secretary David Davis and the EU’s Brexit Negotiator Michel Barnier announced that the UK and the EU had agreed on a Brexit transition deal. However, to achieve the deal, the UK partially conceded its fishing contentions: fisheries would be required to follow the CFP rules until the end of the December 2020 Brexit transition period (73). The UK fishing industry was infuriated. Bertie Armstrong, CEO of the Scottish Fishermen’s Federation, said, “This falls far short of an acceptable deal. We will leave the EU and leave the CFP, but hand back sovereignty over our seas a few seconds later... Our fishing communities’ fortunes will still be subject to the whim and largesse of the EU for another two years” (74). Again, Nigel Farage protested on a fishing boat floating along the Thames outside of Parliament while chucking dead haddock into the river. SNP leader Nicola Sturgeon took to Twitter hoping to sway the fishers back over to the SNP stating: “This is shaping up to be a massive sellout of the Scottish fishing industry by the Tories” (75). The thirteen Scottish Conservative MPs announced that the deal was like “drink[ing] a pint of cold sick” and assured that they would be prepared to vote against their own party if they did not see a return to full control of British waters as “the EU does not care about Scottish fishermen and neither do the SNP government who wants us to re-join the Common Fisheries Policy and the EU” (76). A sense of betrayal was palpable, and May’s fellow Conservative politicians started to understand that prioritizing fishermen would need to be on their political agenda. May would go on to put forth two other Brexit deals but was met with sound political rejection. In June 2019, she stepped down and Boris Johnson assumed leadership in July. The Hiccup Continues: Johnson Learning to Prioritize Fish With May’s Brexit failure in the rearview mirror, Johnson was keen on steering the UK out of the EU. However, after May’s perceived slight, he found little support amongst the Scottish Conservatives and fishers. In August, Scottish Tory leader Ruth Davidson resigned. She worried that a Johnson government would boost support for independence, given that his hard-liner Brexit stance stood in complete opposition to the majority opinion of Scotland and the SNP (77). Johnson, however, had a different agenda; one that was keen on maintaining the union and appeasing the fishing industry was one way of doing so. In July 2019, Johnson made his first visit to Scotland and pledged that fishing access would not be sacrificed in the new Brexit deal.78 The Scottish fishers welcomed his rhetoric, with Bertie Armstrong stating, “We have been looking for a straight and direct answer and that’s exactly what we have got... Scottish fishing’s sea of opportunity lies on the other side of Brexit” (79). Additionally, Johnson assured fishers that he would “strengthen the union” and pledged £300 million for boost- ing growth in the devolved nations (Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland) as a way to try to counteract critics who said his no-deal strategy would break up the UK (80). Among those critics was Nicola Sturgeon, who branded Johnson as the “last prime minister of the UK” (81). After a series of controversial events in the Fall of 2019––proroguing Parliament and then withdrawing the whip from 21 MPs (effectively expelling them from the party)––Johnson was left with no majority in Parliament and found it impossible to get Brexit legislation through. He enacted the Benn Act to extend the divorce date from October 19th, 2019 to January 31st, 2020, and then called a snap election for December 12th, 2019. While Johnson took a strong stance against Scottish independence, his attention to fishing seemed to wane during the snap election. Johnson did keep Scotland in his sights, but most of his attention was to mainland England, hoping to gain back the English voters who defected to Labour in 2017 (82). He visited Scotland once during the campaign, where he delivered the Scottish Conservative manifesto and claimed that Scotland was “paralyzed” by the SNP. Johnson asserted that “a vote for the Scottish Conservatives is a vote to stop a second independence referendum and to get Brexit done... Only a vote for the Conservatives will stop the SNP’s plans to break up the UK” (83 , 84). However, given that May lost many British votes to Labour in 2017, he also needed to prioritize issues that were of interest to larger voting blocs, such as the NHS, the police, and the British education system. To do so, as is now second nature to many politicians, Johnson harnessed Twitter to connect with constituents. On Twitter, Johnson spoke less about fishing and more about those three campaign stances. In total, Johnson tweeted 62 times regarding his campaign agenda on those issues, while only tweeting about fishing five times and Scotland nine times. Figure 13 (85) Illustrates the number of times Johnson Tweeted about a specific subject: 5 times about fishing; 9 times about Scotland; and 62 times about the NHS, policing, and schooling. With much focus on Johnson’s campaign, fishers in coastal Scottish towns were growing worried that fishing was not his top priority. These fishers became more apprehensive and began questioning Johnson’s true intentions: “There’s a calculation that the fishing industry is making that there’s a heavy risk they will get sold out on the way out of the EU, just like they did on the way in” and that maybe “the SNP might get a better deal for Scottish fishing from the EU” (86) especially since Johnson “changes his mind like the weather” (87). A growing number of fishers were unsure whether Johnson would protect the fishing industry or divert his focus towards other aspects in the UK during the trade talks. Election day came, and while Johnson won the largest Parliamentary majority since Thatcher in 1987, he lost several crucial seats in Scotland, which resulted in a small swing back to the SNP, who won 48 out of 59 seats (88). Although a tabloid journalist, Torcuil Crichton provided some thoughtful insight by noting that Scottish Tory 2017 gains were halved in 2019, and any further “betrayal” of the fish- ing industry “will fuel the independence argument and undermine the principles Brexit was fought on” (89). Suddenly, the importance of Scottish independence began to sink in. Johnson needed to show Scotland the benefits of staying in the UK and that Brexit was good for Scottish communities. The fishing industry was the perfect political tool for this end. Johnson could argue that he was going to secure them a good deal, stand up for the disenfranchised against an “overbearing” Brussels, and bring back the domestic industry. He could argue that the UK’s government was paying attention to Scottish needs and, as such, Scotland should stay in the UK rather than back the independence-preoccupied SNP. It is for this reason that fishing was greatly amplified during the trade talks. The Tories needed to secure the Scottish fishing industry a good deal––the rare Scottish industry that embodied the Brexit movement, had yet to back SNP fully, and were against independence––or else potentially be forced to consider calling an independence referendum. Fishing was the fulcrum for Johnson’s political leverage. The Talks and the Deal With the general election behind him and the risk of Scottish independence at the forefront of his mind, Johnson entered the trade talks as a strong counter to Macron and other EU officials who wanted the status quo ante . The issue has now come full circle, back to the famed scallop and turbot dinner on December 9th, 2020, when Johnson and von der Leyen sat down to hash out the final open issue. Britain demanded 80 percent of the EU’s catch to be returned to the UK, but reduced this to 60 percent as a compromise; the EU countered with 20 percent (90). The UK demanded that this transition would take no longer than three years, while the EU asked for a 14-year transition period, which they then reduced to seven. The EU asked for its fishing vessels to be able to fish in the six-to-twelve-mile zone from the British coastline, but the UK insisted that EU vessels be banned from this zone. Von der Leyen left the dinner saying the two sides remained “far apart” (91). The whole trade deal was on the line, with only a few days to go. Finally, on Christmas Eve, after four-and-a-half years of bitter negotiations and only a week to spare before the UK would crash out of the EU, they came to a deal. The 1,200-page document was passed by MPs on December 30th, 521 to 73, and it goes as follows: The transition will be phased over five and a half years, during which EU vessels will still be able to fish in the UK waters. During the adjustment period, EU quotas will decrease by 15 percent in the first year, and then two and a half percent for the following four years. That means by year five, the UK will regain 25 percent of the current EU catch in British waters; Fish will continue to be traded between the two parties with no tariffs imposed; After the five-year adjustment period is over, the UK and EU will enter annual negotiations to determine the quota of fish that EU vessels are allowed to catch in UK waters (92). Johnson announced the deal while wearing a fish patterned tie and praised it as a great deal in which fishers would see their hauls increase from half of the fish quota in British waters under CFP, to about two-thirds by the end of the adjustment period (93). However, neither the fisheries, the French, nor the other EU nations, saw it this way. A deal had been made, but the saga was far from over. V: Conclusions Summary of Findings While fisheries were the “losers” that lobbied hard to grab the government’s attention initially during the Brexit campaign (much like Baldwin and Robert-Nicoud’s theory), it appears that the Conservatives needed the fishers during the exit negotiations and thus took a hard position on access to UK waters, not for social merit, but rather for their electoral and political gains (much like Hillmen’s theory). Matt Bevington, an analyst with the UK in a Changing Europe, pointed out that Johnson saw fishing as one of the few areas where the government would be able to score a “win” to tout as evidence of Brexit’s success (94). Barrie Deas, CEO of the National Federation of Fishermen’s Organization, said that the fishing industry was a “litmus test’’ for Brexit since we will not know most of the effects of the Brexit deal for many years, but the effects for fishing will be realized immediately (95). The Guardian journalist Daniel Boffey noted that fisheries were important to Johnson as he needed to show some benefit of Brexit to Scottish communities as Sturgeon was ramping up her demands for another independence referendum (96). In a similar vein, Denis Staunton of the Irish Times emphasized that North East Scotland is now essential to Johnson’s electoral constituency and will play an important role in the Scottish independence debate over the next few years (97). However, if he remains unable to please the Scottish fishers, the SNP may snatch up those who feel expendable to the Tories. This will again potentially embolden the independence movement since no politician wants to be known as the last Prime Minister. Lessons Learnt While the deal itself was a “Christmas miracle” to the Tories, in many respects, its aftermath has not been so merry. Johnson was unable to provide the fishing industry the deal that they wanted, and more importantly, that they were expect- ing. While the Scottish Tories matched their 2016 performance in the May 2021 Scottish elections, the fishing debacle still plagues the Johnson government with many lessons to be taught to future politicians (98). Hoping to illustrate the UK government’s commitment to the disenfranchised and their commitment to taking back control from the EU, many promises were made. These promises, however, were not plausible, let alone achievable––especially in regards to the fishing industry. Now, the Scottish independence movement has re-emerged, with the SNP harnessing the fishing failure as another reason for why they should leave the UK. Electoral politics influenced the amplification of the industry during the talks. In so doing, it amplified a delicate social, economic, and political bond that is about to snap. However, the main lessons scholars may glean from this case study is the extreme influence of domestic electoral politics in trade agreements: 1. An industry being economically insignificant does not mean that it will be insignificant in the international arena. Not everything in trade talks distills down to economics. More likely than not, declining domestic industries will be protected in trade talks for political purposes. 2. That is not to say, however, that economics is not influential. Johnson was a champion of the industry throughout the trade talks, but ultimately, he had to secure a deal that would allow European vessels access to UK waters for a limited time in order to salvage a trade relationship. In other words, economic interests were prioritized over politics towards the end of the talks. As Barrie Deas said, “It’s what we always feared... When you get to the endgame in the negotiations it becomes a binary choice and economics prevails over politics. I think that’s what’s happened and it’s really not good news.” Ultimately, for better or for worse, Johnson needed a deal (99). 3. Politicians often pick easily understood industries to get their message across. While much of the fishing industry is quite complex, once dissected, its disenfranchised status is not. Johnson harnessed the underserved with a message centered around one question: “what does Brussels know about potholes in London?” His intent with the fishing industry was to illustrate an example of him protecting locals to show (1) that Brexit can be a success and (2) that he was fighting for the British (and Scottish) industry. Fishing was an industry that many people could understand as it portrayed Brussels as treating them unfairly with “draconian quotas.” It would have been difficult if, for example, Johnson had tried to highlight intellectual property rights; few people would latch on to that due to its highly technical nature. Here, success revolves around clear messaging, which is something the Remain camp struggled to achieve. In the eyes of the Brexiteers, these were local fishers––the heart and soul of the UK, even if they were no longer as economically significant––being taken advantage of by Brussels. Fishers also happened to be politically right-leaning and resided in the “hostile” territory of Scotland. As the world enters a more global epoch, there has been a greater emphasis on interdependence and trans- nationalism, which often glazes over domestic factors. But, as former Speaker of the House of Representatives Tip O’Neill (D-MA) famously quipped: “all politics is local,” or, rather, “all local politics are global,” especially in free-trade agreements. Constituents care more about what is happening on the home front, rather than what is going on in Brussels. They care about how Brussels affects them at home more than being in an economically efficient partnership with the EU. 4. Thus, as Putnam theorized in 1988, international negotiations are a two-level game in which domestic groups pressure the government to adopt favorable policies, as the politicians seek to amplify their power by consulting coalitions of these groups. The politicians then go to the international level and seek to maximize their ability to satisfy domestic pressures while balancing the needs of their international partners. However, the need to get reelected and to preserve legacy presides over the strategy they bring to the negotiation table and the industries they choose to protect. Electoral politics is at the heart of all politics, especially in free trade arrangements. Future Research It has been eight months since this paper was originally completed, and fishing still remains top of the fold. The UK and France are in continuous disputes, threatening sanctions and denying each other licenses to harvest in each other’s seas. To understand this continued conflict, scholars and politicians must look at the EU’s perspective as well as the British perspective. While this paper sought to understand why British politicians amplified the fishing industry during the talks, the UK was not its only amplifier. Just as with the UK, fishing is an economically insignificant industry for the EU overall, yet it continues to be amplified by EU member states. From the EU’s perspective, British waters have fish that are the staple of the European diet: herring, mackerel, sole, and shellfish (100). Herring and mackerel are Denmark’s most popular seafood, and it would be impossible to catch their quota if they could no longer fish in UK waters. This would devastate Denmarks’ industry, culture, and customs. For France, on the other hand, it is more about political weight, similar to what we saw in Scotland with Prime Minister Johnson. As journalist John Lichfield pointed out, “The north of France, around Boulogne, is hugely important for the presidential election in 2022... The regional president... might well be one of Macron’s main rivals at that time, so [Macron] needs to be seen to be supporting what is already a struggling area economically” (101). Additionally, the EU was determined to not set an undesirable precedent. They could not let Britain dictate access to such waters, which could potentially portray the EU as weak to other countries trying the same. This was one of the reasons the EU insisted that the previous level of access to UK waters be maintained, and why Phil Hogan, the EU’s Trade Commissioner, assured Johnson that if he wanted to gain access to EU financial markets, the UK would have to allow EU vessels in British fishing waters (102) Both sides took hardline positions for their constituents, thinking that they were doing their best while also serving their political agendas. Now, though, both British and EU constituents and their businesses are the ones suffering from the fallout of the deal. As stated by Olivier Lepretre, the head of the Hauts-de-France regional fishers association, they want to move on with their lives: “Fishers really don’t care about the politics” anymore, “they just want to work, to go to sea” (103). But, Brexit always was, and still is, a political initiative at its core, and as such, the politics remain. The continued fishing feud illuminates much larger and more profound structural relationship issues that will play out over the next few decades as the two former partners navigate these uncharted waters and tack against the political winds. Endnotes 1 Robert Fisk, “Boris’s Last Push for Brexit Sees Him Kissing Fish and Posing for Selfies as New Poll Gives Leave the Narrowest of Leads,” The Sun (The Sun, June 22, 2016), https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/1326026/boriss-last-push-for-brexit-sees-him-kissing-fish-and-posing-for-selfies-in-a-gruelling-final-day-of-campaigning/ . 2 Raf Casert, “EU-UK Trade Talks Floundering over Fish as Cutoff Day Nears,” Associated Press , December 20, 2020, https://apnews.com/article/brexit-europe-global- trade-boris-johnson-europe-94ead6da2c46c87efc51328893cd3590 . 3 Thomas Phillip “Tip” O’Neill. 4 Avery Koop, “Visualizing the UK and EU Trade Relationship,” Visual Capitalist, February 9, 2021, https://www.visualcapitalist.com/visualizing-the-uk-and-eu-trade- relationship/ . 5 Adam Coghlan, “Breaking Bread Over Brexit With Fish in Brussels, a Short Story,” Eater London , December 10, 2020, https://london.eater.com/2020/12/10/22167244/no-deal-brexit-fishing-boris-johnson-ursula-von-der-leven-dinner . 6 Daniel Boffey, “The Brexit Brussels Dinner: Fish and Frank Talk but No One Left Satisfied,” The Guardian, December 10, 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2020/ dec/10/the-brexit-brussels-dinner-fish-and-frank-talk-but-no-one-left-satisfied . 7 Elena Ares et al., “UK Fisheries Statistics,” House of Commons Library, November 23, 2020, https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/research-briefings/sn02788/ . 8 Reuters Staff, “PM Sold out Fish in Brexit Trade Deal, Fishermen Say,” Reuters, December 26, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/uk-britain-eu-fish/pm-sold-out-fish- in-brexit-trade-deal-fishermen-say-idUSKBN2900KG . 9 Kat Haladus, “Fisheries: An Industry That’s Worth 0.1% of the UK’s GDP Is Holding up the Talks,” UK Customs Solutions, December 23, 2020, https://ukcustomssolutions . co.uk/2020/12/23/fisheries-an-industry-thats-worth-0-1-of-the-uks-gdp-is-holding-up-the- talks/. 10 Matt Bevington, Professor Anand Menon, and Professor Jonathan Portes, “Fishing: Why Is It Such a Tricky Issue in UK-EU Negotiations?” UK in a Changing Europe, November 10, 2020, https://ukandeu.ac.uk/explainers/fishing-why-is-it-such-a-tricky-issue-in-uk-eu-negotiations/ . 11 British Sea Fishing, “Brexit and Britain’s Fisheries,” British Sea Fishing, January 20, 2021, https://britishseafishing.co.uk/brexit-and-britains-fisheries/ . 12 Anand Menon and UK in a Changing Europe Team, “Fisheries and Brexit,” The UK in a Changing Europe , June 2020, https://ukandeu.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/ Fisheries-and-Brexit.pdf . 13 Jeremy Phillipson and David Symes, “‘A Sea of Troubles’: Brexit and the Fisheries Question” 90 (2018): pp. 168-173, https://doi.org/10.31230/osf.io/fxnqj . 14 Sophia Kopela, “Historic Fishing Rights in the Law of the Sea and Brexit,” Leiden Journal of International Law 32, no. 4 (2019): pp. 695-713, https://doi.org/10.1017/s0922156519000438 . 15 Stijn Billiet, “Brexit and Fisheries: Fish and Chips Aplenty?” The Political Quarterly 90, no. 4 (2019): pp. 611-619, https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-923x.12748 . 16 Tom McTague, “Why Britain’s Brexit Mayhem Was Worth It,” The Atlantic (Atlantic Media Company, December 24, 2020), https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2020/12/brexit-trade-deal-uk-eu/617509/ . 17 Anand Menon and UK in a Changing Europe Team, “Fisheries and Brexit”. 18 Craig McAngus and Christopher Huggins, et al., “The Politics and Governance of UK Fisheries after Brexit.” Political Insight 9, no. 3 (September 2018): 8-11, https://doi.org/10.1177/2041905818796570 . 19 John Connolly et al., “The Governance Capacities of Brexit from a Scottish Perspective: The Case of Fisheries Policy,” Public Policy and Administration , January 2020, https://doi.org/10.1177/0952076720936328 . 20 Matt Bevington, Professor Anand Menon, and Professor Jonathan Portes, “Fishing: Why Is It Such a Tricky Issue in UK-EU Negotiations?” 21 Robert D. Putnam, “Diplomacy and Domestic Politics: the Logic of Two-Level Games.” International Organization 42, no. 3 (1988): 427–60. https://www.jstor.org/stable/2706785 . 22 Corneliu Bjola and Ilan Manor, “In the Long Run,” In the Long Run, July 19, 2018, http://www.inthelongrun.org/criaviews/article/revisiting-putnams-two-level-game-theory- in-the-digital-age-domestic-digita/ . 23 Eugénia da Conceição-Heldt and Patrick A. Mello, “Two-Level Games in Foreign Policy Analysis,” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Politics, 2017, https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228637.013.496 . 24 Gene Grossman and Elhanan Helpman, “Trade Wars and Trade Talks,” Journal of Political Economy 103, no. 4 (1995): pp. 678, https://dash.harvard.edu/bitstream/handle/1/3450062/Helpman_TradeWars.pdf . 25 Arye L. Hillman, “Declining Industries and Political-Support Protectionist Motives.” The American Economic Review 72, no. 5 (1982): 1180-187. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1812033 . 26 Hilman, 1186. 27 Richard E. Baldwin and Robert-Nicoud, Frédéric, “Entry and asymmetric lobbying: why governments pick losers.” PSPE working papers, March 2007. Department of Government, London School of Economics and Political Science, London, UK. 28 Ibid. 29 Data collected by Eleanor Ruscitti via the UK Electoral Commission donation reports from 2016-2020, http://search.electoralcommission.org.ukcurrentPage=1&rows=10&sort=AcceptedDate&order=desc&tab=1&open=filter&et=pp&isIrishSourceYes=true&isIrishSourceNo=true&prePoll= false&postPoll=true®ister=gb®ister=ni&optCols =IsAggregation . 30 Vivien Schmidt and Jolyon Howorth, “Brexit: What Happened? What Is Going to Happen?” Politique Étrangère, no. 4 (2016): pp. 123-138, https://doi.org/10.3917/pe.164.0123 . 31 Ibid, 4. 32 Kevin H. O’Rourke, “A Short History of Brexit: from Brentry to Backstop,” in A Short History of Brexit: from Brentry to Backstop (London: Pelican, 2019), p. 74. 33 James Walsh, “Britain’s 1975 Europe Referendum: What Was It like Last Time?” The Guardian, February 25, 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/feb/25/britains-1975-europe-referendum-what-was-it-like-last-time . 34 Ibid. 35 Pan Pylas, “Britain’s EU Journey: When Thatcher Turned All Euroskeptic,” Associated Press, (January23,2020), https://apnews.com/article/64855d1ff67454443db5132bdfb22ea6 . 36 Ibid. 37 Vivien Schmidt and Jolyon Howorth, 7. 38 Ibid, 4. 39 Jorge Martins Rosa and Cristian Jiménez Ruiz, “Reason vs. Emotion in the Brexit Campaign: How Key Political Actors and Their Followers Used Twitter,” First Monday 25, no. 3 (March 2, 2020), https://doi.org/10.5210/fm.v25i3.9601 . 40 European Commission, “The Common Fisheries Policy (CFP),” European Commission, 2015, https://ec.europa.eu/fisheries/cfp_en . 41 Andy Forse, Ben Drakeford, and Jonathan Potts, “Fish Fights: Britain Has a Long History of Trading Away Access to Coastal Waters,” The Conversation, March 25, 2019, https://theconversation.com/fish-fights-britain-has-a-long-history-of-trading-away-access- to-coastal-waters-112988 . 42 Convention on the Law of the Sea , New York, 10 December 1982, United Nations Treaty Series, pg. 40. https://www.un.org/depts/los/convention_agreements/texts/unclos/unclos_e. pdf 43 Thomas Wemyss Fulton, “The Fisheries,” in The Sovereignty of the Sea: an Historical Account of the Claims of England to the Dominion of the British Seas, and of the Evolution of the Territorial Waters; with Special Reference to the Rights of Fishing and the Naval Salute (London: William Blackwood and Sons, 1911), pp. 25-57. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/54977/54977- h/54977-h.htm . 44 Keith Johnson, “So Long, and Say Thanks for All the Fish,” Foreign Policy, February 28, 2020, https://foreignpolicy.com/2020/02/28/fishing-uk-european-union-brexit-trade- talks-cfp/ . 45 Ibid. 46 Dan Roberts, “‘We Have Been Hijacked’: Fishermen Feel Used over Brexit,” The Guardian (Guardian News and Media, March 23, 2018), https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2018/mar/23/we-have-been-hijacked-fishermen-feel-used-over-brexit . 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid. 49 Serena Kutchinsky, “Is Nigel Farage the Fisherman’s Friend?” Newsweek, June 27, 2016, https://www.newsweek.com/eu-referendum-brexit-fishing-policy-nigel-farage- scotland-snp-473435 . 50 John Litchfield, “Ukip Is Wrong: British Fishing Answers to Westminster Not Brussels,” The Guardian, April 6, 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/apr/06/ ukip-british-fishing-westminster-brussels-brexit . 51 Oliver Barnes and Chris Morris, “Brexit Trade Deal: Who Really Owns UK Fishing Quotas?” BBC News, January 1, 2021, https://www.bbc.com/news/52420116 . 52 Keith Johnson, “So Long, and Say Thanks for All the Fish.” 53 European Commission, “The Common Fisheries Policy (CFP): the essentials of the new CFP,” 2015. 54 Ibid. 55 Craig McAngus, “A Survey of Scottish Fishermen Ahead of Brexit: Political, Social and Constitutional Attitudes,” Maritime Studies 17, no. 1 (2018): pp. 41-54, https://doi.org/10.1007/s40152-018-0090-z . 56 Daniel Boffey, “UK Fishermen May Not Win Waters Back after Brexit, EU Memo Reveals,” The Guardian, February 15, 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/feb/15/uk-fishermen-may-not-win-waters-back-after-brexit-eu-memo-reveals . 57 Severin Carrell, “Nigel Farage to Lead pro-Brexit Flotilla up Thames,” The Guardian, June 3, 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/jun/03/nigel-farage-pro-brexit- flotilla-thames-eu-referendum-leave-campaign . 58 Chris Morris and Oliver Barnes, “Brexit Trade Deal: What Does It Mean for Fishing?” BBC News, January 20, 2021, https://www.bbc.com/news/46401558 . 59 Craig McAngus, “A Survey of Scottish Fishermen Ahead of Brexit: Political, Social and Constitutional Attitudes.” 60 The Newsroom, “Scottish Constituency of Banff and Buchan ‘ ̃Voted for Brexit’,” The Scotsman, November 22, 2016, https://www.scotsman.com/news/politics/scottish-constituency-banff-and-buchan-voted-brexit-1462018 . 61 Kevin McKenna, “Scotland’s Fishermen Feel a Sickening Sense of Betrayal Yet Again,” The Guardian, March 24, 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/ mar/24/scotland-fishermen-betrayal-peterhead-brexit . 62 “Scottish Independence: Will There Be a Second Referendum?” BBC News (BBC, March 22, 2021), https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-scotland-politics-50813510 . 63 Ibid. 64 Scotland Correspondent, “SNP Tries to Dump EU Fisheries Policy” (The Times, March 31, 2010), https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/snp-tries-to-dump-eu-fisheries- policy-7b8tnlq3gw5 . 65 Scottish Government, “Scotland’s Future and Scottish Fisheries,” Scottish Government, August 14, 2014, https://www.gov.scot/publications/scotlands-future-scottish-fisheries/pages/2/ . 66 “General Election 2017: Former SNP Leader Alex Salmond Loses Seat,” BBC, June 9, 2017, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-scotland-politics-40212541 . 67 “General Election 2017: SNP Lose a Third of Seats amid Tory Surge,” BBC News, June 9, 2017, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-scotland-politics-40192707 . 68 Ibid. 69 “Letters: Tories Could Not Be Trusted to Negotiate in Good Faith in Independence Talks,” HeraldScotland, November 11, 2020, https://www.heraldscotland.com/ news/18864349.letters-tories-not-trusted-negotiate-good-faith-independence-talks/ . 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 British Sea Fishing, “Brexit and Britain’s Fisheries.” 73 Ibid. 74 The Newsroom, “Fishing Industry’s Anger as UK and EU Strike Brexit Transition Deal,” The Scotsman, March 19, 2018, https://www.scotsman.com/country-and-farming/ fishing-industrys-anger-uk-and-eu-strike-brexit-transition-deal-318889 . 75 Ibid. 76 Jenni Davidson, “Brexit Deal for Fisheries like ‘A Pint of Cold Sick’, Conservative MP Douglas Ross Says,” Holyrood Website, October 4, 2019, https://www.holyrood.com/news/view,brexit-deal-for-fisheries-like-a-pint-of-cold-sick-conservative-mp-douglas-ross- says_13762.htm . 77 Libby Brooks, “Scottish Tories Still Anxious over Johnson’s Impact on the Union,” The Guardian, July 23, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/jul/23/scottish-tories-still-anxious-over-johnson-impact-on-the-union-independence-ruth-davidson . 78 Tom Peterkin, “Boris Johnson Pledges That Access to Fishing Will Not Be Sacrificed in New Brexit Deal,” Press and Journal, July 30, 2019, https://www.pressandjournal.co.uk/fp/politics/scottish-politics/1807666/boris-johnson-pledges-that-access-to-fishing-will-not-be-sacrificed-in-new-brexit-deal/ . 79 Ibid. 80 Rowena Mason and Libby Brooks, “Boris Johnson Heads to Scotland to Deliver £300m Pledge,” The Guardian, July 28, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/jul/28/boris-johnson-heads-to-scotland-to-deliver-300m-pledge . 81 Ibid. 82 Tim Ross, “Boris Johnson’s Tories Abandoned Scotland to Win Their Big Victory,” Bloomberg, December 23, 2019, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-12-23/how-johnson-s-tories-ditched-scotland-to-rule-a-divided-kingdom . 83 “General Election 2019: Boris Johnson Claims Scotland ‘Paralysed’ by SNP,” BBC News, November 26, 2019, https://www.bbc.com/news/election-2019-50561993 . 84 Reuters Staff, “Boris Johnson to Tell Scotland: Vote Conservative to Stop Independence Bid,” Reuters, November 6, 2019, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-britain-election- scotland/boris-johnson-to-tell-scotland-vote-conservative-to-stop-independence-bid-idUSKBN1XG333 . 85 Data collected by Eleanor Ruscitti via Boris Johnson’s Twitter account 86 Alistair Grant and Rohese Devereux Taylor, “Constituency Profile: Fishing for Votes in Scottish Coastal Communities,” HeraldScotland, December 1, 2019, https://www.heraldscotland.com/news/18072191.general-election-2019-fishing-votes-scottish-coastal- communities/ . 87 Ibid. 88 “Results of the 2019 General Election,” BBC News, https://www.bbc.com/news/election/2019/results . 89 Torcuil Crichton, “Why Scottish Fishing Rights Are a Brexit Deal Breaker in EU Trade Talks,” Daily Record, October 15, 2020, https://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/.politics/scottish-fishing-rights-brexit-deal-22850163 . 90 British Sea Fishing, “Brexit and Britain’s Fisheries.” 91 Ibid. 92 Chris Morris and Oliver Barnes, “Brexit Trade Deal: What Does It Mean for Fishing?” 93 Harry Taylor, “Kipper Tie: Boris Johnson Sports Fish Symbol in Brexit Message,” The Guardian, December 24, 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2020/dec/24/net-gains-boris-points-up-his-ties-to-the-fishing-industries . 94 Jeremy Kahn, “A Fine Kettle: How Fishing Became the Issue That Could Sink a Post- Brexit U.K.-EU Trade Deal,” Fortune, October 15, 2020, https://fortune.com/2020/10/15/fishing-rights-brexit-u-k-eu-trade-deal/ . 95 Barrie Deas, “Opinion Piece,” NFFO, October 9, 2020, https://nffo.org.uk/news/opinion-piece.html . 96 Daniel Boffey, “Catches, Quotas and Communities: the Key Fisheries Issues at Stake,” The Guardian, October 17, 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/business/2020/oct/17/catches-quotas-and-communities-the-key-fisheries-issues-at-stake . 97 Denis Staunton, “Johnson Covers Brexit Win on Fish to Show He’s ‘Taking Back Control’,” The Irish Times, December 4, 2020, https://www.irishtimes.com/news/world/uk/johnson-covets-brexit-win-on-fish-to-show-he-s-taking-back-control-1.4426956 . 98 “Scottish Election 2021: Conservative Match Best Scottish Election Results,” BBC News (BBC, May 8, 2021), https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-scotland-politics-57042432 . 99 Dan Roberts, “‘We Have Been Hijacked’: Fishermen Feel Used over Brexit.” 100 Laura Hughes, “Brexit: Why Fishing Threatens to Derail EU-UK Trade Talks.” 101 Lucy Williamson, “Brexit: Why France Is Raising the Stakes Over Fishing” (BBC, October 13, 2020), https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-54526145 . 102 British Sea Fishing, “Brexit and Britain’s Fisheries.” 103 Jon Henley, “French Fishing Industry Divided over Sanctions on UK Trawlers,” The Guardian (Guardian News and Media, November 1, 2021), https://www.theguardian.com/business/2021/nov/01/french-fishing-industry-divided-over-sanctions-on-uk-trawlers . 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Rosa, Jorge Martins and Cristian Jiménez Ruiz. “Reason vs. Emotion in the Brexit Campaign: How Key Political Actors and Their Followers Used Twitter.” First Monday 25, no. 3 (March 2, 2020). https://doi.org/10.5210/ fm.v25i3.9601. Ross, Tim. “Boris Johnson’s Tories Abandoned Scotland to Win Their Big Victory,” Bloomberg, December 23, 2019. https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-12-23/how-johnson-s- tories-ditched-scotland-to-rule-a-divided-kingdom. Schmidt, Vivien and Jolyon Howorth. “Brexit: What Happened? What Is Go- ing to Happen?” Politique Étrangère , no. 4 (2016): pp. 123-138, https://doi. org/10.3917/pe.164.0123. Scotland Correspondent. “SNP Tries to Dump EU Fisheries Policy” (The Times, March 31, 2010). https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/snp-tries-to-dump-eu-fisheries-policy-7b8tnlq3gw5 “Scottish Election 2021: Conservative Match Best Scottish Election Results.” BBC News. BBC, May 8, 2021. https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-scot- land-politics-57042432. Scottish Government. “Scotland’s Future and Scottish Fisheries,” Scottish Government, August 14, 2014, https://www.gov.scot/publications/scotlands-future-scottish-fisheries/pages/2/. “Scottish Independence: Will There Be a Second Referendum?” BBC News (BBC, March 22, 2021), https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-scotland-politics-50813510. Staunton, Denis. “Johnson Covers Brexit Win on Fish to Show He’s ‘Taking Back Control’,” The Irish Times, December 4, 2020. https://www.irishtimes. com/news/world/uk/johnson-covets-brexit- win-on-fish-to-show-he-s-taking-back-control-1.4426956. Taylor, Harry. “Kipper Tie: Boris Johnson Sports Fish Symbol in Brexit Mes- sage,” The Guardian, December 24, 2020. https://www.theguardian.com/ politics/2020/dec/24/net-gains-boris- points-up-his-ties-to-the-fishing-industries. The Newsroom. “Fishing Industry’s Anger as UK and EU Strike Brexit Transition Deal.” The Scotsman, March 19, 2018. https://www.scotsman.com/coun- try-and-farming/fishing- industrys-anger-uk-and-eu-strike-brexit-transition-deal-318889. The Newsroom. “Scottish Constituency of Banff and Buchan Voted for Brexit.” The Scotsman, November 22, 2016. https://www.scotsman.com/news/politics/scottish-constituency-banff-and- buchan-voted-brexit-1462018. Thomas Phillip “Tip” O’Neill. Quote. “All-politics are local”. Walsh, James. “Britain’s 1975 Europe Referendum: What Was It like Last Time?” The Guardian. February 25, 2016. https://www.theguardian.com/poli- tics/2016/feb/25/britains-1975-europe-referendum-what- was-it-like-last- time. Data collected by Eleanor Ruscitti via Boris Johnson’s Twitter account Data collected by Eleanor Ruscitti via the UK Electoral Commission donation reports from 2016- 2020. http://search.electoralcommission.org.uk/. Previous Next
- From Sex to Science: The Challenges and Complexity of Consent
Author Name < Back From Sex to Science: The Challenges and Complexity of Consent Matthew Grady I. Abstract Since the beginning of biomedical research on human subjects, the notion of consent has been widely debated and highly contentious. With philosophers and bioethicists focusing on the issue of what constitutes truly informed consent and the proper ethical guidelines for retrieving it, the existing notion of consent in biomedical research fails to fully consider the potentially coercive forces on participants. Consent has also been an issue of import amongst philosophers of sex and feminist scholars. Rallying behind the contemporary idea of a robust version of consent—one that fully encompasses the ways in which agents may be coerced into consenting to a sexual act—these philosophers have argued that societal norms, external pressures, and the nature of consent itself often render consent insufficient to guarantee the moral permissibility of sex. I will argue that these two seemingly distinct concepts of consent in sexual and biomedical spheres face many of the same ethical issues. Borrowing from recent discussions around coercive factors influencing consent in sexual interactions and my own experiences in biomedical research settings, I will draw parallels between these two notions of consent in order to illuminate a more accurate and robust philosophical framework for setting ethical guidelines around obtaining consent in biomedical research settings. II. Introduction As biomedical research has increased exponentially with regard to both enhanced funding for the practice of human-subject experimentation and new research methodologies for promising medical interventions, there is an urgent need for robust ethical guidelines around utilizing human subjects in biomedical research contexts. This paper will focus on the use of human subjects in average biomedical research experiments, which typically recruit and pay individuals to undergo a certain medical procedure, take a specific drug, etc. before approval of the medical intervention for the general population. Across all of the varying perspectives regarding how to best recruit, treat, and compensate human subjects, consent has remained an absolute standard and necessity for conducting ethical biomedical research. While philosophers and bioethicists have contentiously debated over the necessary conditions for obtaining consent, most have widely (if not completely) neglected factors that may wrongfully induce human subjects to consent to biomedical research. Consent has also been a central topic of importance within the philosophy of sex and feminist p hilosophy, yet its development has remained quite distinct from the understanding of consent in the field of biomedical research and subject recruitment. Philosopher and bioethicist Alan Wertheimer has made a connection between the notion of consent in sexual interactions and biomedical research, but my parallels and conclusions will clearly be distinct from his and will primarily focus on developing thoughts inspired by the initial connection made by Quill Kukla in “A Nonideal Theory of Sexual Consent.” In sexual interactions, most philosophers agree that consent is a necessary, but insufficient, element for ensuring the permissibility of sex between p artners. Consent is something to be given freely, and many forces may serve to coerce or influence an individual into granting their consent, thus potentially curtailing the normative goal of “ideal” consent. Traditional discussions of consent are structured around fulfilling the normative goal of obtaining consent that is free from undue influence on one’s agency, autonomy, ability to make rational decisions, etc. Consent, under this view, is either valid or not—anything constraining an agent’s ability to consent automatically invalidates its moral force. Quill Kukla has introduced a “nonideal theory of sexual consent,” which classifies consent as degreed and emphasizes that genuine consent can still be achieved in the presence of potentially coercive factors. Under this conception, agency and autonomy are present in lesser and greater degrees within different sexual interactions, and agents are continually pressured by coercive forces. Thus, consent is not valid or invalid; instead, genuine consent (or robust consent as I will often refer to it) is built when coercive factors are controlled to such a degree that all sexual partners possess sufficient agency to make a fully rational decision to consent. This does not deny our ability to determine whether a sexual act is morally permissible and establish a standard for morally permissible ways to obtain consent. Rather, it allows us to adopt a nuanced view of consent as a nonideal concept, wherein agents can consent under our oft-constrained and coerced statuses. Philosophical inquiries into coercive factors impacting one’s ability to obtain genuine, robust consent in sexual interactions have focused on external pressures, societal norms, and the implications of consent as the dominant framework itself. Yet, bioethicists have neglected this crucial area in their understanding of consent. Much can be gained for our existing notion of consent in biomedical research settings by embracing the approach taken by philosophers of sex. Consent operates in many different facets of life—agreeing to consent forms, consenting to a sexual interaction, consenting to someone entering your home, and many other forms of implicit and explicit acts of consent . However, the nature of consent within sexual interactions and biomedical research settings is distinct from other forms, making them especially morally-laden. Given violations of these kinds of consent are particularly harmful to one’s bodily autonomy, sexual interactions and biomedical research settings are especially deserving of rigid consent guidelines. The genuine robustness of these two forms of consent is also dependent upon the satisfaction of external conditions not always under the control of the agent granting consent (ex. a non-coercive partner in sexual interactions or a biomedical institutional review board that grants approval for a biomedical experiment), opening up the potential for coercive factors to render a certain act morally impermissible. T hese two distinct forms of consent face many of the same ethical issues and should be engaged in a conversation with one another—a conversation that has been neglected thus far. I hope to build a more accurate, encompassing framework in the biomedical sphere by which we can set ethical guidelines for engaging human research subjects in a truly consensual manner based on the progress made by philosophers of sex, like Kukla and others. To conduct this comparative analysis, I will begin by discussing the existing notion of consent within the biomedical research field and detailing the major issues of importance currently debated. I will then proceed to review the ways in which many philosophers of sex have taken a broader approach to defining consent—one that takes into account the coercive factors that may inhibit an agent’s ability to grant consent with full autonomy and agency. I will then draw comparisons b etween these two distinct notions of consent to reveal several coercive factors in biomedical research settings that may render “informed” consent coerced. Finally, I will suggest how we may build a broader philosophical framework to scaffold the agency of human subjects when consenting to potentially dangerous biomedical research experiments. III. The Existing Notion of Consent in Biomedical Research After many instances of harmful treatments being given to vulnerable, often marginalized populations, such as the Tuskegee Syphilis study, bioethicists began to question what truly constitutes informed consent in biomedical research settings. This question has included exploration into both the b est ways to obtain consent, as well as the proper way to interpret the term, “informed.” The p redominant conclusion on how to best define informed consent has overwhelmingly neglected consideration of coercive factors that impact the ability for human subjects to rationally consent to biomedical trials. As will become clear, there are an abundance of underexplored factors that may constrain one’s ability to rationally consent to participate in a biomedical research trial. This paper aims to fill this lacuna in the current understanding of biomedical research consent. There are many interesting debates around the understanding of biomedical consent that will become relevant to my argument later, the first being the therapeutic misconception. This phenomenon occurs quite often in biomedical research settings, where human subjects possess the incorrect belief that they are receiving life-changing or potentially beneficial treatments, despite being told about the potential of receiving a placebo treatment, or the chance that the experimental drug may be ineffective. The implications of the therapeutic misconception for ensuring the genuine nature of a human subject’s consent are vast. Consent hinges upon an agent’s uncoerced ability to make an informed decision, and philosophers of biology have rightfully debated what constitutes truly meeting the informed standard of consent. Can one really be said to have full decision-making agency and possess the needed information to genuinely consent if they wrongly believe, as subjects with the therapeutic misconception do, that they are guaranteed life-saving treatment? This is not to say that consent is in some way unobtainable in biomedical research settings; however, we ought to properly understand the implications of the therapeutic misconception on a subject’s ability to grant their consent in a knowing, informed fashion. In addition to the therapeutic misconception, there is another important debate around whether informed consent requires comprehension in any way. Some argue that full comprehension of what the study entails is the only way to ensure the participant is aware of all of the risks and does not possess the therapeutic misconception. Participants have also been shown to severely misunderstand the actual p rocedures, treatments, etc. they are consenting to, whether that be due to not reading the consent form or not fully understanding the researcher’s explanation of what will occur during the study . By not comprehending both the purpose of the study and the exact particulars involved in it, research subjects may fail to meet the “informed” requirement of informed consent. Regardless of the exact answers to these concerns, it is clear that the current discourse surrounding biomedical consent has yet to satisfactorily explore the intricacies of the coercive factors impacting consent in medical experiments. Participants may be hindered in their ability to grant genuine, uncoerced consent when, as research shows is often the case, they do not understand the purpose or specifics of the research study to which they are consenting. In a way, participants in many biomedical studies consent to a version of the study that does not carry the significant risks of harm they take on when consenting—is this morally permissible? How can we ensure coercive factors, like the therapeutic misconception, do not wrongly influence a human subject to consent to a potentially dangerous experiment? These ethical issues debated within the philosophy of biology can be b etter answered with a revised, robust version of consent—one which thoroughly examines and addresses the coercive factors that unduly encourage someone to grant consent without b eing truly informed and open to participating. IV. Moving Beyond Mere Consent: Philosophy of Sex While consent works to p reserve the agency of a sexual partner, the vast majority of philosophers agree that consent is necessary for sex to be morally permissible, not sufficient. When consenting to a sexual act, a person is utilizing their agency and autonomy—their capacity to make free and independent decisions to meet their own ends—to make a rational choice, so consent both contributes to and draws from one’s agency. We now recognize the ability of rational agents to utilize their agency to consent to sexual acts that may still be morally problematic, whether that consists of morally dubious sexual actions or acts obtained with a coerced notion of consent. Given the importance of sexual consent, we need an understanding of it that can account for any and all factors that may coerce a sexual partner into granting consent when they otherwise would not have. Philosophers have addressed the issue of consensual sex that may be coerced in a variety of fashions. Some feminist scholars, like Catharine MacKinnon, have taken a radical approach, claiming that no consent is truly valid under heteronormative structures. Their understandings of consent highlight the ways in which external societal conditions may render consent insufficient if they constrain one’s options to the point where consent becomes obligatory, rather than freely given. Nicola Gavey provides a compelling account of how heteronormative , oppressive structures may render one’s consent involuntary or obligatory in sexual situations because of societal conditions pressuring women. Women sometimes feel obligated to consent to unwanted sexual advances because of the heteronormative forces that pressure them to enter a subservient, diminutive role within sexual interactions. Other philosophers take a different approach to consent by illuminating varying ways in which traditional consent is not sufficient to guarantee a good moral standard for sex. Power dynamics, a misunderstanding of what will actually take place during sex, the offer of money, socialized b ehaviors, and societal pressures are all examples of coercive factors that may encourage one to say yes, even when one did not originally intend to. A person may not be able to fully, rationally consent to a sexual act if pressured by these sorts of coercive factors. Philosophers operating with this lens focus less on making a valid versus invalid distinction of consent and instead emphasize the way consent can be constrained or limited by oppressive structures and other coercive forces. The moral permissibility of a sexual act depends on the agency and autonomy possessed by all of the sexual partners consenting, which may be constrained by coercive factors. By emphasizing the coercive factors outside of direct threats from a partner that may constrain one’s genuine consent, feminist philosophers have been able to build a more robust understanding of consent—one that accounts for the coercive factors that may wrongfully influence one to consent to a sexual act. To summarize all of this into a more digestible framework, I find Quill Kukla’s non-ideal theory of consent to be particularly illuminating. Essentially, under Kukla’s perspective, consent is a “nonideal concept,” where virtually no sex will turn out to be consensual if consent requires the full autonomy of its participants. Their framework allows for the permissibility of sex and obtaining consent even when coercive forces are present; all agents are constrained in different ways, by different power relations, as a result of different identities, and that does not fully invalidate our ability to consent. Instead, to ensure one’s consent is genuine in the presence of common coercive factors, Kukla argues we must “scaffold” consent by “[being] sensitive to the limits of and possibilities for agency and consent in a given context and [adjusting] accordingly,” to ensure a partner possesses agency and autonomy. Scaffolding can be accomplished socially or interpersonally, where practices, environments, and relationships can help to enable a sexual partner’s agency. Kukla uses the example of a retirement facility embracing guidelines, policies, and management that allow its patients to have sex in such a way that does not threaten their ability to participate safely or diminish their own agency in pursuing sexual relationships. On the interpersonal level, agents can also aid in scaffolding their sexual partner’s (or partners’) agency and autonomy by ensuring their partner feels the, “ability to exit a situation, trust, [and] safety,” among other crucial practices that build and protect one’s ability to genuinely consent. Policies here scaffold consent by examining potential coercive factors and building social practices which are inclusive and protective of sexual agency. Again, philosophers of sex, like Kukla, have explicated external factors, such as power dynamics, money, the traditional, overriding depiction of a woman “giving” consent to a man’s request, and heteronormative structures, that may coerce someone to consent to a sexual act. In identifying these, philosophers can strategically recommend scaffolding structures to ensure the moral permissibility of sexual interactions and to enhance the agency and autonomy of sexual partners. I argue that the bioethicist ought to take on a similar project of identifying coercive factors and scaffolding their designs to preserve agency, autonomy, and genuine consent in biomedical research experiments. This challenge has been neglected thus far, and the current understanding of informed consent fails to fully account for coercive factors; thus, the biomedical research community is in need of a scaffolding strategy to preserve genuine, robust consent. The following section attempts to embrace the approach taken by Kukla and others in developing a more robust theory of consent within biomedical research settings. V. Can Biomedical Research Achieve Genuine, Robust Consent? To curb coercive factors from playing a role in one’s decision to have sex, Kukla proposes a more robust, nonideal theory of consent, which works to scaffold protections for an individual’s autonomy in the process of granting consent. Kukla’s framework understands that agents are constantly influenced by external, coercive factors. I argue that we should embrace this approach in the b iomedical research field, which requires a thorough understanding of the implicit and explicit factors that encourage participants to grant consent to medical experiments and treatments. I will now begin to detail four p rimary coercive factors that have been underexplored by philosophers of biology, highlighting the direct parallels that can be found with the coercive factors that impact sexual consent. In drawing these parallels and embracing a more robust understanding of consent, this paper will aim to demonstrate the need for greater encompassing ethical guidelines around biomedical research experiments. A. Compensation: Fair or Coercive? The standard practice for most biomedical research trials is to compensate their human subjects for their participation and time spent completing the study (and any additional costs incurred, medical expenses, inter alia). To recruit enough human subjects for a statistically valid biomedical study, researchers must offer compensation as an inducement to p articipate. Many ethical questions have been explored by philosophers and bioethicists, including how much to pay human subjects, whether payment for certain kinds of research is morally acceptable, and if payment can truly compensate for the serious risks involved in participating in experimental research. However, most have neglected to explore the role money plays as a coercive factor to participate in potentially dangerous research and its impact from a scaffolding perspective. Participating in biomedical research can be a valuable way to earn both active and p assive income, yet money is known to influence the rational decision-making of moral agents. Might someone “consent” to engaging in a biomedical research study that crosses their ethical and/or physical level of comfort in desperation for money? Philosophers of sex have rightly acknowledged that money can serve as an influential and potentially coercive force for consenting to certain actions because an agent may, in an attempt to earn crucial income for themselves, consent to sex in which they would not normally be comfortable engaging. A very similar ethical dilemma arises in the case of biomedical research. Consider this fictional example: an extremely poor woman who struggles to pay for her basic necessities agrees to take a highly experimental drug that could have damaging, long-term side effects. She would not normally endanger her own health in this way, but she is so desperate for passive income that this compensation is too important to pass up. Under the existing notion of informed consent in b iomedical research, this kind of participation would still be considered fully consensual when, clearly, money played a coercive role in her decision. This is not to say that all sexual interactions and all biomedical research settings involving the exchange of cash are coercive (e.g. sex work depends on the presence of money, but is not necessarily coerced), but we ought to pay crucial attention to these areas because of the morally problematic force money can have on obtaining consent. Money has the potential of encouraging and even forcing one into doing things they would not normally be comfortable with, so compensation is especially deserving of ethical guidelines. See Largent, et. al. for a further discussion of the concerns here. Imagine a case where someone decides to consent to a risky biomedical research trial with full comprehension of the risks and particulars involved with the medical study. They choose to accept all of the accompanying risks with participation because the potential compensation is worth their involvement according to a rational assessment by the agent in question. I concede here that this person may not be making a coerced decision to consent—this person, depending on the background circumstances and personal costs, may be choosing to utilize their agency to make a rational decision to pursue compensation. But, it is equally important for research designers to ask, ‘If this subject were in a greater position of agency and authority, would they still be comfortable with making the same decision?’ This question concerning the potential for coercive influence is neglected and unaddressed in the vast majority of biomedical research settings. Not all cases will reveal coercive factors influencing a subject’s decision, but bioethicists have neglected to fully accept the incredibly powerful and sometimes coercive influence compensation can have on a person’s ability to rationally consent. Furthermore, many research studies design their compensation schedule in a way to coerce participants into completing the entirety of a biomedical experiment by offering a significant “bonus” at the end of the study. Given that consent hinges on the ability for an agent to say “no” at any time to any part of an experiment, compensation can wrongfully be utilized as a tool of coercion, in that a research subject may feel unduly compelled to complete a study in hopes of receiving the bulk of their compensation at the end of the research. Compensation, in this role, can coerce consent and thus render the consent given as less robust, less agential, and likely to be less morally permissible than a more scaffolded version of biomedical consent. B. Underexplored Power Dynamics Furthermore, there exist underexplored power dynamics that may induce individuals to consent to biomedical research that they might not otherwise. It is not uncommon for physicians to offer (or even suggest) participating in an experimental research trial to their ailing patients. The physician here possesses a status of authority and level of power that may wrongfully induce their patient to agree to participate, despite the overwhelming risks, in benefits to their own research or that of their colleagues. This is not to say that all actions by a doctor wrongfully operate on a power dynamic, but recommending someone to consent to a trial with clear and substantial potential for harm rightfully deserves a more critical lens for moral judgments. Another example worth noting is when professors recruit their students to participate in their own b iomedical research. Might a student consent to participate merely because their p rofessor, who is in a position of power, asked them to do so? I argue that both of these cases illuminate a power dynamic that may render the given consent here as below the standard for moral permissibility and fully robust consent. Just as a boss requesting to have sex with their employee possesses an imbalanced power dynamic, so do certain recommendations of research studies by people of authority. By understanding the coercive influence of underexplored power dynamics in biomedical research recruitment, we can begin to build a more robust theory of consent that accounts for this coercive factor. C. The Misunderstanding of Particulars By Research Participants As previously discussed, it has been well documented that human subjects often misunderstand the particular actions and risks involved with their participation in biomedical research trials. While comprehension is difficult to fully impart on human subjects, might some of these knowledge gaps wrongfully encourage one to consent to a research study? As mentioned earlier, if one is under the guise of the therapeutic misconception, they may be more willing to consent to potentially dangerous research in the hope of receiving free treatment; however, there is no guarantee they will receive any sort of efficacious medical intervention. Research participants are also often unaware of the particular procedures, treatments, etc. they will have to undergo, meaning they cannot grant fully informed consent to them. A similar ethical dilemma arises in the case of sexual consent: one may consent to a sexual interaction without knowing the full breadth of what will occur. Biomedical researchers ought to work (or alternatively, “scaffold”) toward ensuring their research participants have full knowledge and comprehension of any factor of the research that might change their decision to consent. Only a more robust consent framework within biomedical research settings can properly protect the autonomy of human subjects to provide truly informed consent. D. Lack of Knowledge Regarding Research Intentions The final factor that I argue merits greater consideration in our ethical guidelines around b iomedical consent concerns the ability of the patient to understand the intentions of the research. Due to the nature of biomedical research, human subjects are often not informed of every detail of the study in order to maintain scientific objectivity and integrity. So, a human subject may be told what the study consists of, while not fully understanding the intentions of the research. What if a human subject consents to participating in a Phase I biomedical trial without knowing that the intention of the research is to produce a drug that only the extremely wealthy will be able to afford (an unfortunately common occurrence in the US)? Or, what if the aim of the research is to reach a conclusion that goes against one’s own morals, like that racial differences are essential rather than constructed? Just as one possesses a right to know the intentions behind their partner asking for consent to have sex, human subjects have a right here as well because the information presented may actively encourage one to not offer consent in the first place. Our existing definition of consent for human subjects in biomedical research experiments does not properly account for preserving, or scaffolding, the full rational decision-making of human subjects. While understanding the need for a certain level of confidentiality, the intentions behind the research itself may serve as a deterrent for someone to grant consent. So, in order to have genuine, robust consent, we must be able to set ethical guidelines that actively inform the participant of any detail that may render their consent below the bar for moral permissibility if unknown. VI. An Argument for a More Robust Consent in Biomedical Experiments I present these four coercive factors not in an attempt to develop a fully-fledged account of proper consent in biomedical research, but rather to demonstrate that our existing notion does not go far enough to protect the autonomy of human subjects. All four of these concerns do not apply equally in every context, but they do merit a greater, more nuanced understanding of consent and how to ethically scaffold against coercive factors. Philosophers of sex, like Kukla, have begun to p opularize the idea of a robust, nonideal theory of consent as a way to scaffold ethical precautions to engaging in sexual acts with a partner. The field of biomedical research ought to embrace a similar strategy and approach, and these four factors can begin to identify the key elements influencing the autonomy and agency of sexual partners. To scaffold a human subject’s ability to grant their uncoerced consent, we need to maximize their knowledge of anything essential to their rational decision-making. This would involve instituting clear and expansive policies to combat the therapeutic misconception and ensure participants understand the potential harms they may undergo. Researchers should also develop pay schedules and formats that work to ensure that the benefit incurred from compensation does not wrongly coerce one into participating or lacking the ability to revoke their participation at any time. Crucially, though, we ought to concurrently reform the issues of capitalism and systemic wealth inequality that force many people in the US to sell their own bodies for lifesaving income. Finally, we should adopt stricter guidelines for participating in biomedical research experiments to both restrict coercive power dynamics and pursue further scaffolding of subjects’ agency and autonomy. It is important to note, though, that this paper is primarily concerned with the philosophical issues that might constrain one’s genuine consent, and I invite bioethicists to create a more concrete and thorough list of ethical guidelines to scaffold agency in experiments. By conducting a rigorous philosophical analysis of coercive factors that influence human subjects, philosophers of biology will be better equipped to develop their own version of robust consent that can account for coercive factors. This new, reinspired lens from a philosopher of sex into scaffolding consent should help to control the damaging effects of coercive factors and grant the human subject greater autonomy in making rational decisions regarding whether and when to participate in biomedical research. Research study designers can utilize the recognition of these coercive forces, scaffold ethical practices to combat their influence on diminishing an agent’s authority and embrace a more robust understanding of consent in biomedical research experiments. VII. Conclusion My aim in this paper has been to draw parallels between the currently distinct notions of consent within sexual interactions and biomedical research to illuminate the similar ethical issues facing both. Many feminist scholars and philosophers of sex have taken an approach of examining the societal conditions, other external pressures, and nature of consent itself to illuminate the ways consent may be unduly coerced in rational agents. In doing so, they have been able to develop a more robust framework around a nonideal theory of consent that socially and interpersonally scaffolds (but not completely) a person’s agency in order to minimize coercive factors in one’s decision to consent to sex. By detailing parallel coercive factors present in the biomedical research field, I hope further philosophical inquiries will be able to develop a similar robust consent framework for biomedical research involving human subjects. On a more practically conclusive note, biomedical research experiments are luring; research designers purposefully advertise their studies to sound like easy, safe ways to make money, despite their risks. As shown by decades of research studies with devastating effects on communities of color, biomedical research experiments target specific populations…populations that are often BIPOC, low-income, young, and most vulnerable to being coerced into consenting in a biomedical research setting (see NIH for more on the crucially important element of structural medical racism). I’ve seen firsthand the consequences of a biomedical research industry that has consistently used advertising to tempt many young people, like myself, to participate in potentially harmful studies—experiments where we may not be in a fully agential capacity due to coercive factors. Money, power relations, a lack of understanding regarding the experiment, and other coercive factors constantly influence the ability for people, especially those of marginalized or fiscally disadvantaged backgrounds, to make a fully rational choice in consenting to biomedical research. This should not detract from the important results found in biomedical research and the necessity for it; instead, I am hoping to emphasize the stakes of and potential harms from coerced consent. We need to scaffold the ability for everyone of every identity to make a fully rational, uncoerced decision on whether and when to consent to a biomedical research experiment. References Beres, M. A. (2016). ‘Spontaneous’ Sexual Consent: An Analysis of Sexual Consent Literature. Http://Dx.Doi.Org/10.1177/0959353507072914 , 17 (1), 93–108. https://doi.org/10.1177/0959353507072914 Booth, S. (2002). A philosophical analysis of informed consent. Nursing Standard (Royal College of Nursing (Great Britain) : 1987) , 16 (39), 43–46. https://doi.org/10.7748/NS2002.06.16.39.43.C3211 Carnegy-Arbuthnott, H. (2020). On a Promise or on the Game: What’s Wrong with Selling Consent? Journal of Applied Philosophy , 37 (3), 408–427. https://doi.org/10.1111/JAPP.12393 Candilis, P. J., & Lidz, C. W. (2010). Advances in Informed Consent Research. The Ethics of Consent : Theory and Practice . https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195335149.003.0013 Cappelen, H., & Dever, J. (2019). Bad language (1st ed.). Oxford University Press. https://global.oup.com/academic/product/bad-language-9780198839644 Dankar, F. K., Gergely, M., & Dankar, S. K. (2019). Informed Consent in Biomedical Research. Computational and Structural Biotechnology Journal , 17 , 463. https://doi.org/10.1016/J.CSBJ.2019.03.010 Dickert, N., & Grady, C. (1999). What’s the price of a research subject? Approaches to payment for research participation. The New England Journal of Medicine , 341 (3), 198–203. https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJM199907153410312 Eyal, N. (2019). Informed Consent. In Edward N. Zalta (Ed.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (2019 Spring Edition). https://plato.stanford.edu/cgi-bin/encyclopedia/archinfo.cgi?entry=informed-consent Gavey, N. (2016). Technologies and Effects of Heterosexual Coercion. Http://Dx.Doi.Org/10.1177/0959353592023003 , 2 (3), 325–351. https://doi.org/10.1177/0959353592023003 Tilton, E. C. R., Jenkins Ichikawa, J., Albert, S., Anderson, S., Ayars, A., Boonin, D., Bowen, J., Bromwich, D., Caldwell, K., Conrad, K., Cumberbatch, L., Elefson, G., Gilbert, C., Graf, L., Gunkel, J., Haughton, J., Jenkins, C., Jost, L., Kennedy, C., … Woollard, F. (2021). Not What I Agreed To: Content and Consent. Https://Doi.Org/10.1086/715283 , 132 (1), 127–154. https://doi.org/10.1086/715283 Trott, A. M., & Anderson, E. (2019). Women in Philosophy: The Limits of Consent in Sexual Ethics. Blog of the APA . Kukla, Q. R. (2021). A Nonideal Theory of Sexual Consent. Https://Doi.Org/10.1086/711209 , 131(2), 270–292. https://doi.org/10.1086/711209 Largent, E. A., Grady, C., Miller, F. C., & Wertheimer, A. (2012). Money, Coercion, and Undue Inducement: A Survey of Attitudes About Payments to Research Participants. IRB , 34 (1), 1. /pmc/articles/PMC4214066/ Raja, H. (2020). Author and Citation Information for “Sex and Sexuality.” In E. N. Zalta (Ed.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2020 Edition). https://plato.stanford.edu/cgi-bin/encyclopedia/archinfo.cgi?entry=sex-sexuality Schmidt, T. A. (2003). The legacy of the Tuskegee syphilis experiments for emergency exception from informed consent. Annals of Emergency Medicine , 41 (1), 79–81. https://doi.org/10.1067/mem.2003.17 Shamoo, A. E., & Resnik, D. B. (Eds.). (2016). Responsible conduct of research (3rd ed.). Oxford University Press. https://global.oup.com/academic/product/responsible-conduct-of-research-9780197547090?cc=gb&lang=en& Sreenivasan, G. (2003). Does informed consent to research require comprehension? Lancet (London, England) , 362 (9400), 2016–2018. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(03)15025-8 MacKinnon, C. A. (1989). Sexuality, Pornography, and Method: “Pleasure under Patriarchy.” Ethics , 99 (2). Moorthy, G. (2020). Recruiting Psychology Students to Participate in Faculty/Department Research. Voices in Bioethics , 6 . Morgan, S. (2003). Dark Desires. Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 2003 6:4 , 6 (4), 377–410. https://doi.org/10.1023/B:ETTA.0000004638.15926.1A Wertheimer, A. (2010). Rethinking the Ethics of Clinical Research: Widening the Lens. In Rethinking the Ethics of Clinical Research: Widening the Lens . Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/ACPROF:OSO/9780199743513.001.0001 West, R. (1995). The Harms of Consensual Sex. The American Philosophical Association Newsletters , 94 (2). West, R. (2020). Consent, Legitimation, and Dysphoria. Georgetown Law Faculty Publications and Other Works , 83 (1), 1–34. https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-2230.12489
- Kyu-hyun Jo
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
- The Necessity of Perspective: A Nietzschean Critique of Historical Materialism and Political Meta-Narratives
Oliver Hicks The Necessity of Perspective: A Nietzschean Critique of Historical Materialism and Political Meta-Narratives Oliver Hicks Karl Marx and Friedrich Nietzsche both contributed immensely to 19th century political philosophy and laid the foundation for countless revisions, interpretations, and new theories throughout the 20th and 21st centuries. While they share a common goal of exposing hidden, socially constructed restraints in order to liberate the individual, they differ sharply on both the nature of those societal restraints and what liberation actually looks like. I present these thinkers as foils: Marx guided by a normative approach that sees liberation as an inevitable conclusion of current social conditions, and Nietzsche describing liberation as necessary but ultimately ambiguous. Ultimately, I assert that this ambiguity is a necessary acceptance of true liberation that ought to humble any assertion of truth, morality, or rationality. I. Introduction But everything is fair It’s a paradox we call reality So keepin’ it real will make you A casualty of abnormal normality - Talib Kweli, Respiration (1) The above remarks are from a verse of the 2002 duet album Mos Def and Talib Kweli Are Black Star , in which artist Talib Kweli describes his inner-city New York landscape. The broader context of the song speaks to the harsh and often hopeless reality of a low-income Black experience. It begins with a dialogue from the seminal hip hop documentary Style Wars , in which a New York graffiti artist describes a recent work titled “Crime in the City.” The work implicitly asks the audience whether “crime” is all his city has to offer or if it is simply what one chooses to see when examining the New York streets. Kweli contributes his own perspective in the aforementioned line, in which he calls his reality a “paradox” where everything in this world is fair. Thus, nothing can be unfair with the proper perspective, lending itself to the paradox of never being able to pin down what is truly right or wrong. Kweli speaks of inter-gang violence, where young Black men are pitted against each other for the scarce resources present in their desolate environment. Yes, success is good, but at what cost to the broader struggle of their community? The second part of his stanza questions the efforts of anyone in this world to be truly “real,” as Kweli plays with a definition that is so integral to one’s identity in the hip hop community. Hip hop and rap are built around delivering viscerally authentic, or “real,” stories, usually about struggle, persecution, and ultimately perseverance against an adverse world. Thus, “keeping it real” becomes the idealized form of living as opposed to whitewashed versions of struggle or falsified stories for commercial success. But what does “realness” actually entail, and is it captured by this idealization? Kweli would answer that it is less objective than it might seem. Any attempt at authenticity is undermined by another perspective, and thus the vanity that accompanies an allegedly “real” individual instead makes them a casualty: they are not truly real, authentic, nor honest versions of themselves, but rather they are only “real” by an externally defined perspective, one that society wants for them. Kweli is inverting a pillar of rap culture by arguing that what is deemed true “realness” by people in the city is actually defined by the same subjective standards used to define its opposite. Put simply, the inner-city stories to which Kweli is referring are authentic as defined by what is expected of the storytellers: to be hard, cold-blooded, and insensitive to the harsh world around them. But does this produce genuine versions of who these individuals could be given different circumstances? Or are they simply buying into the “abnormal normality,” one defined by social constructs that is ultimately abnormal to whatever their “real” selves might be? The question of authenticity amidst veiling social norms is one discussed by a variety of modern political theorists, all seeking to understand who we are in order to understand who we ought to be—and how we ought to be governed. From descriptions of a primordial state of nature proposed by early contract theorists to Karl Marx’s world-encompassing system of historical materialism, these modern thinkers attempt to sketch out the natural, psychological, and social undercurrents of our behavior. Though Marx was the first to usher in a hermeneutics of suspicion by critiquing existing philosophical norms in search of hidden truths, he did so with the intent of outlining his own normative conception of humanity's goal (or his own end point on the linear timeline that is progress): communism. Decades later, Friedrich Nietzsche claimed “we are unknown to ourselves, we men of knowledge” in his preface to On the Genealogy of Morals. He proposed a philosophy that sought to interrogate reigning value systems that presented themselves as natural or self-evident without replacing them with his own explicit normative solution (2). Nietzsche recognized the limitations of philosophical inquiry while operating within the system he was critiquing. Humans lack a basic sense of what is good as enshrined in the concept of natural law or historical materialism because our entire system of moral values is a product of changing power dynamics. More importantly, we cannot see any semblance of truth unless we shed these artificial moral constructs. The relativity inherent in our ability to make judgements of ourselves and fellow citizens ultimately moves the goalposts of political theory itself: we are no longer moving toward that ideal form with which Plato was so obsessed because we cannot accurately define it. There are no political meta-narratives, no slate of criteria with which we can accurately and objectively identify our deepest human nature—to do so would be to dismiss far too many factors and make far too many assumptions. Rather, we must instead work to interrogate our unwavering beliefs in perceived truths or ideal forms in order to understand how we might escape them as they arise. As shown by Talib Kweli in his aforementioned lyrics, the inability to shed the social, moral, and ethical constructs that surround a particular Black experience raises questions regarding the obscuration of truth and the need for a variety of perspectives. Using Nietzsche’s skepticism of philosophy and morality as a foil for Marx’s historical materialism, I will draw on a number of their works to discuss the validity of any proposed political meta-narrative. First, I will present a brief model for viewing history as forward-facing in the pursuit of a realized ideal form, courtesy of Marx. Then, I will use Nietzsche to reject the notion of an ideal form and instead emphasize the need for perspective to understand any type of truth, political or otherwise, in order to escape the social constructs that mystify this truth and enslave us to normative ideals. II. Historical Progress as Forward-Facing: Marx’s Determinism Marx famously remarked at the beginning of The Communist Manifesto that “the history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles”(3). More importantly, however, was the history that Marx was proposing henceforth. Communism was not just a prescription for the ills of capitalism, but a prediction of the inevitable collapse of the market economy itself: the contradictions intrinsic to capitalist function would ultimately lead to its own demise. Communism would simply be the final and best option for a post-revolutionary society. In this way, Marx lays a deterministic view of human progress. If humanity keeps moving forward as is, we will reach an inflection point; if we actively work to deconstruct the status quo, we will reach that same inflection point sooner. Though bleak, this notion of progress posits its own normative assumption that society is moving forward : ideology has simply masked antagonistic class divides while capitalism exploits them, but we will inevitably overcome this stain on history to usher in a new and better world. This deterministic presentation of history, or historical materialism, is one of Marx’s greatest contributions to political philosophy. Using this dialectical approach, Marx identified two main forces that drive historical change: the division of classes and the division of labor. The evolution of class systems is best articulated in the first section of the Manifesto , where Marx focuses primarily on Europe’s transition from feudal to modern societies, namely bourgeois societies. Feudal societies were composed of complex hierarchies: feudal lords, vassals, guild-masters, journeymen, apprentices, serfs, and more. Among these classes existed a constant dynamic of oppression, wherein higher classes dominated subordinate ones as defined by the material conditions of each (14). Centuries of global exploration, however, produced ever-expanding markets and ever-increasing demand that revolutionized the modes of production and condensed class antagonisms into Marx’s binary: the bourgeoisie and the proletariat. This defined the “Modern Industry” that Marx witnessed in the 19th century, wherein “the modern bourgeoisie is itself a product of a long course of development, of a series of revolutions in the modes of production and of exchange” (5). Underlying this series of class revolutions are developments in the division of labor: first in tribal communities, then ancient communes, feudal states, commercial states, and finally the capitalist state of the bourgeoisie. The division of labor reflects both the growth of the productive capacities of these communities as well as the growth of divided interests among individuals. For example, Marx argues that the division of labor within a nation first leads to the “separation of industrial and commercial from agricultural labor, hence to the separation of town and country… [then] to the separation of commercial from industrial labor” and so on (6). Occurring simultaneously are infinitesimal divisions within these branches “among the individuals cooperating in definite kinds of labor” (7). Ultimately, Marx places the modern industrial state, with all of its complex and specialized divisions, on an historical timeline that inevitably moves toward the maximization of its productive capacities since it is constantly in competition with similarly structured nations. This maximization, however, along with its own internal contradictions, begets its own destruction. The consolidation of “scattered private property” into the consolidation of “capitalistic private property” in the hands of an increasingly smaller elite becomes too heavy to support itself, and the fetters that confine the socialization of labor for exploitation ironically lead to the organization of a massive, oppressed class that revolts against their slave-wage masters (8). This revolution, Marx argues, is a smoother transition than the original consolidation of private property via the socialization of labor, since the latter is the “expropriation of the mass of the people by a few usurpers,” but the former is the “expropriation of a few usurpers by the mass of the people” (9). However, the light at the end of this tunnel that is capitalism and the driving force behind this expropriation of the few by the many is Marx’s concept of “species-being.” As human beings, Marx considers our most basic and fundamental essence to be our drive to engage in productive activity; it is our “working-up of the objective world,” in which “[man] duplicates himself not only, as in consciousness, intellectually, but also actively, in reality, and therefore he contemplates himself in a world that he has created” (10). This creative process, when done freely, consciously, and socially, is what separates us from animals and satisfies our life purpose: we choose what to make and when to make it in order to survive. Capitalism disrupts this process by commodifying labor and subsequently alienating the laborer first from their product, second from their process, third from themselves, and finally from each other (11). As a result, the worker becomes antagonistic to the entire system of private property: they are resentful of the bourgeois capitalist, suspicious of their fellow worker, and disillusioned with themselves, all because of alienation from their species-being. The rediscovery of our species-being is the natural epilogue to the implosion of capitalism. And yet, this conclusion relies on Marx’s own crypto-normativity. Like the early contract theorists who came far before him, Marx is simply making his own normative assumption regarding human nature: we live to create the world around us, and are only satisfied by seeing ourselves in that world. One could argue that the exploitation of this process is a violation of a Marxist natural law, and that a communist revolution is a means of retributive justice. As noble as it may be to argue that communism is the inevitable end point of a history structured by material conditions, Marx’s theory is limited by its own dogmatic assumptions. However, he was not alone in proposing human history as a deterministic teleology. Marx built his theory off the critique of Hegel, who argued a similar conception of history driven by conflicts in ideas rather than material conditions. Adam Smith falls into this same category, emphasizing the ability to improve society through the accelerating efficiency of mutually beneficial economic transactions and production (he even titled his magnum opus The Wealth of Nations —“Nations” being plural to suggest collective benefit in pursuing capitalistic ends). Immanuel Kant believed in the ability of individual societies to develop the faculties of humankind over time, leading again to the upward trajectory of progress and the inevitable achievement of our full potential. However, each of these thinkers suffer from the same flaw: they boldly claim to know the end stage of humanity and the final form to which political philosophy strives while being limited by their own historical context and intellectual horizons. III. Rejection of the Pure Form: Nietzsche’s Response Though his work is filled with a multitude of social and moral critiques, Nietzsche claimed that “the worst, most durable, and most dangerous of all errors so far was… Plato’s invention of the pure spirit and good as such” (12). Consistent with Nietzsche’s long-standing critique of religion was his belief that Christianity had become “Platonism for ‘the people’” by providing an ideal form to which, by restricting one’s indulgences and taking leaps of faith, one could strive and achieve a good moral life. To Nietzsche, however, faith extends far beyond theology: it applies to every corner of philosophy and knowledge. Philosophers’ pursuits of knowledge are done in vain, since each proposes an alleged “cold, pure, divinely unconcerned dialectic” that is, in reality, simply “an assumption, a hunch, indeed a kind of ‘inspiration’... that they defend with reasons they have sought after the fact” (13). A particularly heinous example of this prejudice is Kant’s “discovery” of a new human faculty, one that allowed him to argue man’s capacity to make synthetic judgements a priori . Nietzsche argues this discovery was in fact not a discovery at all, but a lazy leap of faith that compelled him to answer his own questions “by virtue of a faculty” and essentially invent his own causa sui (14). Consequently, Nietzsche argues that we ought to approach knowledge with suspicion. By questioning the value of truth and certainty in the face of their opposites, Nietzsche rejects the idea of proposing a fully contained and explanatory system for any type of knowledge, since “in the philosopher… there is nothing whatever that is impersonal; and above all, his morality bears decided and decisive witness to who he is ” (15). Dogmatic philosophy and its ideal forms, therefore, are less interesting to Nietzsche than the necessity of our belief in them. Rather than ask what our beliefs say, a better question to pose is what these beliefs say about us . By accusing all philosophy of being dogmatic, Nietzsche is drawing attention to the philosophical limitations of any single individual. As such, a new generation of philosophers ought to embrace “the dangerous ‘maybe’ in every sense,” instead putting their faith in possibilities rather than certainties (16). To recognize one’s own inability to offer an all-encompassing system for the world is to endorse the necessity of perspective, the variety of which is the only way to understand the true nature of anything. To deny this necessity, which Nietzsche calls “the basic condition of all life,” is to instead continue the pursuit of that Platonic good spirit or ideal form (17). Rather than working to defend knowledge as we come to understand it, philosophers should be constantly interrogating knowledge in an attempt to free themselves from their own prejudices. In doing so, one rejects the idea of truth as purely objective and “knows how to employ a variety of perspectives and affective interpretations in the service of knowledge” (18). Nietzsche draws attention to the fact that there is no view from nowhere: “there is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective ‘knowing’; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our ‘concept’ of this thing, our ‘objectivity,’ be” (19). Put differently, one can liken Nietzsche’s concept of truth to a statue: any singular view of the statue only provides a singular picture of it. The view from the front of the statue will give a completely different image than that from the back, assuming we could even agree upon which is front and back in the first place. A plethora of angles upon which to view the statue, therefore, is necessary to truly understand it since any individual view is inherently limited by their position relative to the object. “Free spirits,” then, unlike those who throughout history have proposed their singular view of the statue as correct, are that new generation of individuals who constantly question their own prejudices and adopt new angles (20). In this way, one could argue that Nietzsche rejects the concept of Truth altogether, and perspectivism becomes a practical tool for understanding the world around us as we develop our own concepts of knowledge. At the very least, Nietzsche seems to suggest that regardless of the existence of any Truth, we cannot even begin to understand Truth unless we prioritize an ensemble of perspectives over any individual one. In doing so, we can use the former to prevent us from being limited by the latter. Once again, Nietzsche’s perspectivism has less to do with its relationship to truth (capital-T or otherwise) and more to do with its relationship to the individual and their inherently limited perspective. This concept of agency and power in the face of social restraints is consistent throughout Nietzsche’s works, and one of the most obvious ties is in his critique of Christianity. Nietzsche makes explicit his disdain for the church in The Genealogy of Morals by arguing that the church itself pioneered a type of slave morality that inherently limits the capability of man by suppressing his instincts. Throughout history, however, this morality was used strategically by the weak (namely priests) to seize some semblance of power from the nobility, whose morality is entirely self-affirming, contemptible towards things outside itself, and emphasizes power over restraint (21). Not unlike Talib Kweli’s description of his catch-22 lifestyle as a gangster in inner-city New York, Nietzsche asks us to consider a bird of prey and a lamb: “there is nothing strange about the fact that lambs bear a grudge towards large birds of prey—but that is no reason to blame the large birds of prey for carrying off the little lambs” (22). In fact, he continues, the lambs would be perfectly well off to regard anything like a bird of prey as evil, since it is the source of violence against them; the bird of prey, however, might view this “somewhat derisively, and will perhaps say: ‘we don’t bear any grudge at all towards these good lambs, in fact we love them, nothing is tastier than a tender lamb” (23). The perspective that is intrinsic to these qualitative judgements of good and evil both undermines their objectivity and highlights a cornerstone of Nietzsche’s philosophy: will-to-power. With regard to Marx, Nietzsche dismisses one of his most basic assumptions using this concept of the will-to-power: … life itself is essentially appropriation, injury, conquest of the strange and weak, suppression, severity, obtrusion of peculiar forms, incorporation, and at the least, putting it mildest, exploitation; —but why should one for ever use precisely these words on which for ages a disparaging purpose has been stamped? Even the organization within which, as was previously supposed, the individuals treat each other as equal—it takes place in every healthy aristocracy—must itself, if it be a living and not a dying organization, do all that towards other bodies, which the individuals within it refrain from doing to each other: it will have to be the incarnated Will to Power, it will endeavor to grow, to gain ground, attract to itself and acquire ascendency—not owing to any morality or immorality, but because it lives, and because life is precisely Will to Power… “Exploitation” does not belong to a depraved, or imperfect and primitive society: it belongs to the nature of the living being as a primary organic function; it is a consequence of the intrinsic Will to Power, which is precisely the Will to Life (24). By arguing that exploitation is not inherently evil, it is easy to dismiss Nietzsche as equally normative with different assumptions. The difference, however, is that Nietzsche’s critique does not lead him to propose a political solution or theorize a political meta-narrative meant to end suffering as he sees it, for that would be replacing one restraining superstructure with another. Will-to-power, according to Nietzsche, is not a facet of human nature that must be complemented by politics nor economics: the will-to-power is a means to finding that solution. It is the unaffected and unfettered ability of truly “free spirits” to escape the confines of “good” and “evil” themselves. As discussed above, no philosopher is truly impartial nor void of their own prejudices, and political meta-narratives such as Marx’s unwavering rejection of exploitation cannot exist to serve their purpose without accepting some degree of dogmatic assumptions. Nietzsche himself is no exception, which is why he hypothesizes these free spirits rather than identifying with them. But continuing to engage in philosophy, particularly political philosophy, without interrogating these assumptions and prejudices is distracting; we cannot begin to construct new worlds until we have deconstructed old ones. Earlier in Nietzsche’s career, we see a similar critique of Christian morals in a different context. In On the Advantages and Disadvantages of History for Life , Nietzsche argues that Christianity seeks to define an end point for humanity by predicting “an end to life on earth… and [condemning] the living to live in the fifth act of the tragedy” (25). By limiting the scope and potential of humanity, Christianity restrains the true potential of the strong and capable, or those who might have the potential to transcend the social or moral limitations they have inherited. Moreover, Nietzsche argues that “Christianity would like to [destroy] every culture which incites to striving further and takes for its motto memento vivere … [it] rejects with a shrug of the shoulders everything in the process of becoming, and spreads over it the feeling of being very late arrivals and epigoni” (26). Though Marx’s calls to action for the proletarian revolution seem counterintuitive to a feeling of being “late arrivals” or “epigoni,” Nietzsche’s critique holds true with regard to Marxism’s crypto-normative, deterministic approach to social organization. Marx provides an all-encompassing system that is meant to both explain and predict the movement of human progress, which owes itself entirely to factors and conditions that are beyond the individual. In a way, this parallels Nietzsche’s diagnosis that we are products of our society to a degree much higher than we realize. The difference, however, lies in their prognosis. Marx believed that the course of these societal effects, namely material conditions, would inevitably lead to the implosion of the status quo that, if properly prepared for, could usher in his optimal form of social organization. Individuals, therefore, might not be “late arrivals” nor “epigoni,” though Marx certainly seems to think that these individuals are entirely at the behest of their own material conditions. The asymmetrical influence that these material conditions have on us—the proletariat being exploited by these material conditions and the bourgeoisie benefitting from them—leads Marx to draw moral conclusions: exploitation is bad and satisfaction of species-being is good . What Marx fails to do is recognize that he is a product of his own material conditions, and so are his theory and determinations of “good” and “bad.” The quasi-utopian society that is only permitted by the revolution is itself borrowing descriptions from the idealized lifestyles of the bourgeoisie. In The German Ideology , Marx suggests that man in a capitalist society is “a hunter, a fisherman, a shepherd, or a critical critic, and must remain so if he does not want to lose his livelihood,” which is true for most working-class individuals. He then adds that in a communist society that same man may “hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticize after dinner, just as [he has] a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, shepherd or critic” (27). The ability to actively satisfy one’s species-being, or to do as one pleases without the alienating incentives required by capitalism, is simply the universalization of bourgeois life—it’s not hard to imagine that these hypothesized jacks-of-all-trades did exist in 19th century Europe, they just happened to be the elite. He who can labor (or engage in any productive activity) without being defined by that labor is a privilege of the ruling class—and one that Marx identifies as good and therefore preferable. In other words, a communist society destroys class conflicts by creating the conditions of one class for all classes. This is not to say that Marx is proposing an egalitarian utopia as his positive project, since he does believe in a relatively heterogeneous society living by the mantra “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs”(28). Moreover, the concept of class itself is theorized to dissolve post-revolution, but this does not mean that Marx’s ideal conditions for all human beings aren’t plagiarizing the conditions of a single class as observed pre-revolution. When workers own the means of production rather than capitalists, they will have the resources, leisure time, and material conditions to produce in accordance with their species-being and satisfy Marx’s normatively defined purpose (or achieve his own concept of “good”). Like Kant, Marx is creating his own causa sui . A Nietzschean contribution to Marxism might argue, then, that capitalism must be deconstructed in the same way that we might deconstruct Christian morality: not with the intent of replacing these superstructures with our own normative solution, but by interrogating them to essentially see where it takes us. Again, the elusive free spirit is not an indirect, self-congratulatory description of the value of Nietzsche’s own theories, nor is it a pessimistic and nihilistic acceptance that nothing truly matters. Rather, it is a new theory in itself—one that considers the possibilities of a new generation of entirely self-affirming thinkers stripped of their prejudices and social restraints. IV. Conclusion Marx’s ultimate conclusion is that a history of society determined by material conditions leaves us no choice but to reject our current modes of production in favor of a society that complements the satisfaction of our species-being. If we don’t, then capitalism will destroy itself anyway. Marx certainly presents himself as a revolutionary determined to unite the working men of all countries toward a common purpose, but it’s difficult to reconcile this call for individual agency toward a collective purpose with the material conditions that seem to govern us regardless of that agency. Marx’s own logic is, again, itself determined by the superstructures he seeks to identify; he is no more or less a product of them than any of the characters in his theory. The vain assertion of a universal truth that is species-being simply uses his own normative definition of what is good by borrowing language from those who have already determined what is good: the bourgeoisie. Consequently, we see his proposed political meta-narrative, that contradictory principles of capitalism inevitably lead to the realization of human emancipation, is at best incomplete and at worst deeply flawed. In the case of the former, we can at least use Marx’s critique of capital to understand how material conditions have shaped our world views: they can determine incentives, exploit workers based on factors beyond their immediate control, or assign value to both people and commodities. These are invaluable critiques that have wide-ranging implications, but they are nowhere near close enough to providing an all-encompassing system of human behavior. In the case of the latter, however, we are met with the dangerous hubris of which Nietzsche is so suspicious. The true nature of anything can only be understood by simultaneously interrogating our prejudices and assumptions while recognizing the need for multiple perspectives. Truth ought to be sought after, but it is extremely elusive and mystified by social constructs, whether they be political, material, moral, sexual, racial, or otherwise. From a postmodernist perspective, Nietzsche was perhaps prodigal. Today, we live in a pluralist world that is constantly challenging the normative assumptions that structure so much of our interconnected lives. Critical race theory has interrogated the fundamental principles of our facially neutral laws; emerging disciplines of queer and feminist studies have reshaped the way we understand and perform our gender and sexuality; successive generations of increasingly agnostic individuals have undermined religiously-grounded social norms to further liberate the arts and create a vibrant pop culture. Social media alone has become one of the greatest conduits for self-expression and has created channels of communication that the world has never before seen. Everything from college campuses to corporate boardrooms have acknowledged the importance of representation and diversity in order to create more inclusive communities. The 21st century is an era of interrogation that requires one to accept a multiplicity of perspectives. Ultimately, it could be said that we are unified by a common obligation to better understand each other. In a way, Marx becomes the casualty to which Talib Kweli is referring in his verse. The idealization of a satisfied species-being is arguably a normality defined by what is expected of human beings in a capitalistic world: to enjoy their work. It is not difficult to imagine that this is actually abnormal, and the entire concept of labor as we understand it could transform or even wither away in the epochs to come due to technology, climate change, or some other unforeseen development. Nietzsche therefore becomes a critical theorist superseding even Marx, for he seeks to critique not just one superstructure but all the superstructures that limit our ability to define for ourselves what is good, bad, evil, true, rational, or authentic. Political philosophy ought to continue elevating the voices that provide these pointed critiques and encourage generations of free spirits as they come. As Kweli might argue, to truly engage in philosophy is to suspect any normality as actually abnormal, and not suffer as a casualty of its misleading assumptions. Rather, we ought to use these suspicions in the service of life and work towards the most ideal form of social organization we can find while recognizing that there is always work to be done. Endnotes 1 Black Star. “Respiration (feat. Common).” Track 11 on Mos Def and Talib Kweli Are Black Star . Rawkus Records, 1998, CD. 2 Nietzsche, Friedrich. “On the Genealogy of Morals.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 451. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967. 3 Marx, Karl and Friedrich Engels. “The Communist Manifesto.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 473. New York, New York: Norton, 1978. 4 Ibid, 474. 5 Ibid, 475. 6 Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “The German Ideology.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 150. New York: Norton, 1978. 7 Ibid, 150. 8 Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “Capital, Volume One.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 437. New York, New York: Norton, 1978. 9 Ibid, 438. 10 Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 76. New York, New York: Norton, 1978. 11 Ibid, 72-77; Marx describes species-being at length throughout the Manuscripts. 12 Nietzsche, Friedrich. “Beyond Good and Evil.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 193. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967. 13 Ibid, 202. 14 Ibid, 207-208. 15 Ibid, 204. 16 Ibid, 201. 17 Ibid, 193. 18 Ibid,. 555. 19 Ibid, 555. 20 Ibid, 242-243. 21 Nietzsche, Friedrich. “On the Genealogy of Morals.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 472–479. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967.; Nietzsche describes his master-slave dichotomy of morality throughout the first essay of his Genealogy , though particularly in sections 10, 11, 12, and 13. 22 Ibid, 480. 23 Ibid, 481. 24 Nietzsche, Friedrich. “Beyond Good and Evil.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 393. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967. 25 Nietzsche, Friedrich. On the Advantages and Disadvantages of History for Life . Translated by Peter Preuss. Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Co., 1980. 44 26 Ibid, 45. 27 Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “The German Ideology.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 160. New York: Norton, 1978. 28 Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “Critique of the Gotha Program.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 531. New York: Norton, 1978. References Black Star. “Respiration.” Track 11 on Mos Def and Talib Kweli Are Black Star . Rawkus Records, 1998, CD. Nietzsche, Friedrich. “On the Genealogy of Morals.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 437–601. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “The Communist Manifesto.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 469–500. New York, New York: Norton, 1978. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “The German Ideology.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 146–200. New York: Norton, 1978. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “Capital, Volume One.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 294–438. New York, New York: Norton, 1978. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 66–125. New York, New York: Norton, 1978. Nietzsche, Friedrich. “Beyond Good and Evil.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 179–435. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967. Nietzsche, Friedrich. “On the Genealogy of Morals.” Essay. In Basic Writings of Nietzsche , translated by Walter Arnold Kaufmann, 437–601. New York, New York: Modern Library, 1967. Nietzsche, Friedrich. On the Advantages and Disadvantages of History for Life . Translated by Peter Preuss. Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Co., 1980. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. “Critique of the Gotha Program.” Essay. In The Marx-Engels Reader , edited by Robert C. Tucker, 525–542. New York: Norton, 1978. Previous Next
- Against the Mainstream: How Modern Monetary Theory and the Myth of Millionaire Tax Flight Challenge Conventional Wisdom
Author Name < Back Against the Mainstream: How Modern Monetary Theory and the Myth of Millionaire Tax Flight Challenge Conventional Wisdom Justin Lee Introduction Changing entrenched beliefs about economics is a difficult task, for it is challenging to distill fragmented facts into prudent judgements. As economic theories rely heavily on assumptions and macroeconomic statistics, a critical divergence exists between ideas most persuasive to the mainstream and those best supported by logic and empirical evidence. In this paper, I will analyze the central tenets of the modern monetary theory (MMT), a recent proposal that governments with sovereign currencies, rather than domestic taxpayers, solely finance all public spending. Furthermore, I will relate the misconceptions about public spending, which MMT rebuts, to the idea of millionaire tax flight, a novel refutation against claims of the severity of debt crises. I will demonstrate parallels in the history of reception and ideological grounds of these two concepts where epistemic and social structures preclude the acceptance of such arguments among “mainstream” economic ideas. Lastly, I will provide an overview of the possible groups that not only have vested interests in blocking these ideas but have also created certain inhibitive barriers to them. This report will use evidence to advocate on the two arguments’ behalf and will identify their shared characteristics that make them distinct from other contemporary policy issues. Background President Ronald Reagan once proclaimed: “We don’t have a trillion-dollar debt because we haven’t taxed enough; we have a trillion-dollar debt because we spend too much.” Such conventional wisdom forms when the vast majority of people come to accept a group of ideas as fact. The misconception that the federal government cannot “spend beyond its means” and that millionaires flee high-tax areas by any means necessary has been propagated through numerous channels - most notably, media outlets such as Fox News - over the years by combining both personal experience and “common sense.” What happens, however, when there is new data presented that goes against the stream of ideas already established? What if these novel ideas rely upon an entirely different logical foundation for their support? What if the “common sense” originally used as the basis for prior justifications was incomplete or even flawed? An idea does not become “conventional wisdom” and gain “acceptance into the mainstream” for its proven veracity; rather, it becomes accepted as an absolute truth through its promotion by influential media outlets and politicians. Recent history has taught us that some “plausible ideas” should not deserve their wide acceptance as scientific inquiry demands. Since the 1980s, for example, the concept of a non-accelerating inflation rate of unemployment (NAIRU) has been prominently accepted as an influential theory among most economists. A NAIRU is the unemployment rate of an economy associated with a constant rate of inflation; a rise in unemployment is associated with a decrease in inflation, whereas a decline in unemployment causes an increase. Despite the success of Milton Friedman's explanation for the “natural” rate of unemployment throughout most of the 1970s and 1980s, economic data in the years since the mid-1990s have weakened Friedman’s case. The US economy has seen low unemployment and low changes in inflation as well as high unemployment and high changes in inflation. In fact, Robert Gordon pointed out the external supply shocks caused during the early 1970s in an effort to display “inflation initiated not by excess demand but by commodity shortages,” circumstances that are quite noticeable in the fluctuating consumption patterns and supply chain issues during the COVID-19 pandemic. In spite of these recent developments and their implications on Friedman’s original hypothesis, the NAIRU remains “an important building block of business cycle theory.” Figure 1: Unemployment Rate and the Percent Change in the CPI since 1950 Routinely, little efforts have been made to temper an “inflation equals bad” mentality that plagues the public in the United States every few years. Similar futile simplifications are made about raising taxes for the rich as politicians claim that the wealthy will flee in droves, causing large drops in tax revenue – a claim that relies largely on hypothetical posturing rather than definitive evidence in its favor. The resolution of these two policy problems requires the reversal of hardened opinions among the general public and hard-nosed experts alike. Rising prices can be inconvenient for many – businesses may need to change their “sticker” prices while workers may not be able to renegotiate with their employers for higher wages until the end of their current contracts. Likewise, most Americans are neither millionaires nor billionaires and may often have an incomplete perception of what their life decisions would be like if they were not burdened by personal financial pressures. Such misunderstandings include failing to account for one’s close network of friends, family members, neighbors, and co-workers that shapes one’s decisions to move. These circumstances are what make it so difficult to propose ideas that run counter to what many have grown to accept as convention. Analysis Perception versus reality Misconceptions about both MMT and millionaire tax flight stem from fundamental differences between public perceptions of the two phenomena and their true implications. The media is partly to blame for this misalignment. From deficit hawks in Congress to political pundits on talk shows, the term “government deficit” is commonly used as a pejorative to counter any argument in favor of increased public spending. While prominent public figures, including billionaire Elon Musk, may perceive the government budget as identical to the personal spending habits of everyday Americans or even small, local businesses, the reality is that the United States federal government – specifically the Treasury Department and the Federal Reserve – is the only entity that retains the right to issue dollars. As a nation with a sovereign currency, the United States has complete discretion over its money supply and interest rates; it can also issue intergenerational debt. This could not be further from the truth for a household, which relies upon income to buy goods and services, or a business, which uses profits to fund production, investment in inventories, and innovation. As I will examine in further detail in a later section, the fallacies underlying perceptions of the federal budget reverberate across the political spectrum, ranging from cries for a smaller government during the Reagan/Thatcher era to proclamations of “tightening belts” by President Obama in his 2010 State of the Union Address. “Crowding out,” the idea that economic activity contracts with deficit-financed expenditures, is one of the most common rebuttals to increased public spending. The neoliberal view of the crowding out effect entails the government competing with private entrepreneurs for capital to finance public spending. However, proponents of the idea that private investment will be “crowded out” if a government spends “beyond its means” fail to consider that the United States is an issuer of its own sovereign currency. Any amount of public spending that exceeds tax revenue is merely printed and issued by the US Treasury. The purpose of selling bonds after an increase in government expenditures is not necessarily to finance these payments but rather to “prevent a large infusion of reserves from pushing the overnight interest rate below the Fed’s target level.” When the federal government chooses to increase deficit spending, US Treasuries take the place of the reserve balances and maintain the aggregate quantity of reserves in the financial system. In other words, “Uncle Sam [does not] enter the market in competition with other borrowers,” such as Citigroup or Morgan Stanley. We see a similar divide between perception and reality for the myth of the millionaire tax flight. According to the Global Wealth Report of 2021, only eight percent of Americans are considered millionaires, those presumably most knowledgeable about millionaire migration. However, the perception that millionaires will definitely flee their well-nested homes for lower tax regions lingers in a large segment of the non-millionaire population. In reality, while 47% of millionaire migrations in the United States from 1999 to 2011 were from high-tax to low-tax states, roughly 32% of such migrations occurred in the opposite direction. While this result is not insignificant, there is no discernible causal relationship in which a tax hike will dramatically force millionaires to states that have lower taxes - a prospect state governments may fear will drive down local tax revenues. Figure 2: Percent of US population migrating An interesting case study is seen in the counties that border the states of Oregon and Washington, all of which are located in a region with the highest relative difference in income taxes between bordering states. Logically, one would expect more millionaires to live in the state with relatively low income taxes – Washington – rather than the state with relatively high income taxes – Oregon. However, the data shows that millionaires tend to cluster in Oregon rather than Washington even after considering tax codes that have been in place for many years. While the story of the Oregon-Washington border is unusual – most data indicates that in other border regions, millionaires “tend to cluster on the low-tax side overall” – there is no evidence that outlines a significant causal relationship between areas of greater taxation and areas with higher rates of millionaire migration. Figure 3: Counties bordering Washington and Oregon Doomsday is coming! When new public spending measures are proposed to combat a recession, cries about the “debt ceiling” from fear-mongering politicians usually arise. Other figures, such as former New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, flirt with the fallacy of cratering tax revenues caused by millionaire migration. If the rift between perception and reality presented earlier can be attributed to a lack of detailed economic expertise among the general public, then the parallels between MMT and the myth of millionaire tax flight presented here demonstrate how reality has been warped into shaping false narratives about the potential for drastic economic reform. Recent data indicating that unemployment and inflation do not perfectly align with the NAIRU theory presented in the background section may signal the dogmatic nature of academics within the field of economics. To illustrate this point, it is worth scrutinizing academic discourse relating to the 2008 financial crisis. For instance, “too big to fail” was a common platitude offered by economic “experts” in the early 2000s as a way to divert public scrutiny from concerning behavior among Wall Street banks, such as the rising number of mergers and increasingly predatory loans. However, once an impending economic disaster loomed and the federal government stepped in to rescue Wall Street, these same experts responded with confusion over where their models had gone severely wrong. As Nobel laureate Paul Krugman writes, “more important [than economists’ predictive failure] was the profession’s blindness to the very possibility of catastrophic failures in a market economy.” Meanwhile, the Troubled Asset Relief Program was welcomed with open arms by financial institutions seeking to rid their balance sheets of illiquid assets. Yet when it came to increasing public expenditure to support low- and middle-income Americans affected by the subprime mortgage crisis, academics such as then Treasury Secretary Larry Summers deemed public spending to be excessive and costly. This 180-degree shift in tone lies at the core of the MMT argument; the federal government had the ability to both provide greater fiscal stimulus and purchase Wall Street’s toxic assets because the United States is an issuer of its own sovereign currency. Figure 4: How MMT accounts for market/government interactions on taxation and public spending Likewise, politicians have boldly proclaimed that tax hikes on millionaires will lead to their disastrous departure. Using data from the same study presented earlier on millionaire migrations between 1999 and 2011, we see that overall migration patterns among millionaires tend to be very subtle with only 2.4% of them choosing to migrate. Only a small portion – just 0.3% – of the total millionaire population chose to migrate from a high-tax state to a low-tax state. Beyond ignoring the clear evidence that makes the millionaire tax flight argument dubious, politicians also downplay the importance of location as a crucial form of social capital. Figure 5: Migration Rates by Age, for Different Levels of Education While there are numerous interpersonal factors that contribute to a person’s decision to move, the strongest drivers of migration include the prospect of greater economic opportunity or an immediate danger that threatens personal safety, neither of which are of particular concern for the average superstar athlete or hedge fund manager. For a person who has attained a certain level of “elite income,” interpersonal relationships and connections are “immobile” factors that influence this person’s wellbeing far beyond their marginal tax bracket. Such considerations, which are undoubtedly important to the social interactions of any group of people, are conveniently left out in the propagation of the myth of millionaire tax flight. Like the challenges that proponents of MMT face, these obstacles prevent substantial reforms towards more equitable taxation laws. The bulwarks against change Contemporary discourse on public spending conveniently fails to acknowledge the ability for the Federal Reserve to curb massive inflation through their control of interest rates and untapped potential revenues from higher taxes on the ultra-wealthy. As discussed, deficit-averse politicians use fear-mongering and scare tactics to deter support for these ideas. Their adamance reveals a similarity between those who stand to lose if such policies are enacted. MMT economists view public spending as a way to stimulate a lagging economy and use their novel theory as a means to justify higher expenditures in areas such as social welfare, healthcare benefits, and infrastructure investments. The beneficiaries of such programs include the elderly, the poor, and the sick – more generally the non-millionaire/billionaire class. Since the start of neoliberalism’s grip on Washington in the 1980s, deficit hawks have decried the prospect of increased government spending on social programs. Yet, these same government officials openly endorsed the $8 trillion “War on Terror” as well as the allocation of billions of dollars in discretionary spending to the Pentagon every year. On the flip side of the deficit debate, tax reform has been on the legislative agenda for years, but in recent decades, such reforms have been more regressive than ones made in the past. Any effort to stymie raising taxes on millionaires has brought about a constant propagation of the myth of the millionaire tax flight by politicians and academics alike. Harvard economist Martin Feldstein claims that higher state taxes on the wealthy have little effect on redistributing income and merely lead to greater migration by the wealthy. Such misrepresentations of government finance and migration trends may originate from the entrenched view of such matters within economics. However, it is certain that political lobbying, particularly in the years after the Supreme Court’s Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission decision, has allowed the interests of the wealthy to be overrepresented in legislative decisions on public spending and tax reform. We often see that these obstacles prevent substantive action for other policy problems as well, such as combating climate change, dismantling the prison industrial complex, or engaging in international trade wars. In all of these instances, the vested interests of the donor class take charge. MMT and the myth of millionaire tax flight occupy unique positions among these challenging policy problems due to their potential for dramatic economic change among the benefiting stakeholders. It is even possible to create a parallel between the two ideas, as MMT views progressive taxation as a means to promote a more equitable society rather than as a hindrance for public programs. Consequently, it should come as no surprise that America’s millionaires use arguments such as the myth of millionaire tax flight to prevent higher taxation on the wealthy and the alarmism over deficits in order to curtail social spending. The rhetoric of politics Appealing to conventional wisdom is often a politically convenient argument to employ. Explaining every minute aspect of government finance takes time and effort and is – more importantly – unrelatable for most voters. The stagnation of real wages since the 1970s has forced middle- and lower-income households to grow accustomed to restricting their spending habits. Listening to rhetoric of their elected officials “wasting away” their hard-earned tax dollars can incite ire among constituents, making ideas such as modern monetary theory appear far-fetched. One study conducted by Kendall, Nannicini, and Trebbi indicates that such rhetoric has a meaningful impact on politicians’ public perceptions. This is perhaps the reason why the politicians mentioned in (Section A) were unanimous in agreement over concerns about the fiscal deficit. While the degree of this agreement varies between politicians, there appears to be a reluctance to take the MMT perspective on this issue. Perhaps the word “deficit” being written in big, red letters on the minds of voters on Election Day is political suicide for anyone who dares to be portrayed as a proponent of reckless spending. The convenience of political arguments against higher taxes on the rich is similar to that of arguments echoed in the debate against higher corporate taxes – that the wealthy and resourceful create jobs for others and therefore require lower tax rates to create opportunities for wealth that “trickle down” to the rest of the population. These long-established views have become entrenched in the common sense of the public and have rendered idiosyncratic ideas incapable of breaking into the mainstream. Conclusions and a Way Forward Both ideas examined in this paper rely upon very basic truths – (1) no one outside of the US Treasury and the Federal Reserve can issue US dollars, and (2) millionaires, no matter how much wealthier they may be than the average American, rely upon and seek to maintain their established social networks. Accepting these two statements as facts can drastically alter policy discussions on both public spending and taxation on a federal level. Time is arguably the most critical component to changing public perceptions of social spending and equitable tax reform. Even Stephanie Kelton, one of the leading experts on MMT, admits that she herself was skeptical upon her first encounter with the theory. The benefit of hindsight has revealed the shortcomings of the global economic order, especially in the aftermath of the Great Recession. The crisis presented itself as an opportunity for decisive action in a new direction, but instead, haste and imprudence allowed fiscal austerity to captivate the minds of leaders and economists around the world. While MMT is far from a panacea for all economic uncertainties, even economists who are more supportive of the traditional view on fiscal deficits, such as N. Gregory Mankiw, have recognized that MMT provides some useful insights that the traditional view may have historically overlooked. The COVID-19 pandemic may serve as an inflection point for a more active role of governments in markets as countries around the world have increased their public spending to avoid recessions. It is here, however, that an important limiting rule of MMT must be mentioned - inflation. In the event of large spikes in prices - as is the case at the time of this writing in Spring 2022 - using MMT as a blank check to drive up public spending would not be prudent and would likely make the inflationary crisis worse. During such times, coordination between fiscal and monetary authorities to adjust interest rates and temper expectations of future inflation is vital. Despite these limitations, circumstantial anomalies should not render the entire idea invalid. To truly tackle challenging policy problems, we must look to audacious economic ideas such as Modern Monetary Theory and refute arcane, baseless ones such as the myth of millionaire tax flight. 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The New York Times, March 24, 2022. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/24/opinion/inflation-united-states-economy.html . Krugman, Paul. “Wonking Out: Is the Great Resignation a Great Rethink?” The New York Times . The New York Times, November 5, 2021. Mankiw, N. Gregory. “A Skeptic’s Guide to Modern Monetary Theory.” Prepared for January 2020 AEA Meeting. Harvard University, December 12, 2019. Mitchell, Matthew D., and Jakina R. Debnam. “In the Long Run, We're All Crowded Out.” Mercatus Center. Mercatus Center at George Mason University, September 15, 2019. https://www.mercatus.org/publications/regulation/long-run-we%E2%80%99re-all-crowded-out . Mitchell, William, L. Randall Wray, and Martin Watts. 2019. Macroeconomics . London: Red Globe Press. Obama, Barack. “The 2010 State of the Union Address.” Speech, Washington, DC, January 27, 2010. https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/remarks-president-state-union-address . “Rep. 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- Refuting the Myth of Progressive Secularism: An Analysis of the Legal Frameworks Surrounding Religious Practice in France and Bahrain
Author Name < Back Refuting the Myth of Progressive Secularism: An Analysis of the Legal Frameworks Surrounding Religious Practice in France and Bahrain Bridget McDonald This paper explores the idea that a secular state is inherently more progressive than a religious nation (a country with a designated state religion). Looking through the lens of freedom of religious expression, I argue that having a secular clause in a country’s constitution does not necessitate a higher degree of religious freedom. Decades of Western discourse linking secularism to modernization has created the notion that religious countries cannot foster free and prosperous societies to the level of secular nations. To refute this view, this paper builds on Talal Asad’s critiques of the contemporary secular model as Eurocentric. Additionally, I expand on the policy overlap discussed in John Bowen’s article comparing the French and Indonesian judicial systems. I employ a comparative case study model to evaluate the legal frameworks surrounding religious practice in France (a secular state) and Bahrain (a Muslim state). Findings indicate that although the two countries differ in terms of religion’s place in government, significant overlap exists between their laws impacting religious practice. I argue that in certain cases, Bahrain exhibits a higher degree of tolerance for religious expression than France. I conclude that religious states can value religious identity more than a secular country, therefore enabling select religious nations to foster religious freedom to equal or higher levels than their secular counterparts. However, more comparative research needs to be done to fully evaluate the dimensions of religious freedom in secular and religious countries. Introduction In the 2022 French presidential elections, news coverage of far-right candidate Marine Le Pen’s outlined platform – titled 22 Measures for 2022 – highlighted the second goal on her list: “Eradicate Islamist ideologies and all of their national territory networks.” Le Pen closely tied this sentiment to laïcité (secularism), a French value developed during the Revolution that established the foundation for a formal separation of church and state. Le Pen’s rhetoric has brought forth discussion on the role of secularism in the government and the impact of secular policies on the French Muslim community (Ataman, 2022). Though initially a primarily Western ideology, a clause pertaining to secularism now appears in 71 countries’ constitutions (World Population Review, 2022). These nations, referred to as constitutionally secular countries, are typically associated with higher GDP (Ruck, Bentley & Lawson, 2018), more socially progressive policies, and increased freedom. However, the recent ban on burqas and niqabs in secular countries has brought into question the progressive nature of secularism. France, Switzerland, Belgium, and Bulgaria have fully banned burqas, while various other European countries have banned the burqa to differing degrees. This trend, which has been criticized for discriminating against Muslims, demonstrates the complicated relationship between secularism and minority religious groups. France, the first European country to ban the burqa via a law prohibiting facial coverings (Erlanger, 2011), has taken further steps to target the Muslim community, including fining women for wearing a “burkini”– a full body swimsuit for Muslim women, that, unlike a burqa, does not have a facial covering (The Guardian, 2016). Labeled as a tactic to fight extremism, the burqa ban is one of many laws regulating Muslim practices and expressions of Muslim identity, such as pressuring imams to sign a charter of republican values (Williamson, 2020). The targeting of the Muslim community in France challenges the idea that secularism entails socially progressive policies. If secularism suppresses religious freedom, then perhaps it is not as progressive as many Westerners believe. This paper seeks to refute the idea that a secular country is inherently more progressive than a religious nation. I will evaluate the legal frameworks of a secular state and a religious state, focusing specifically on areas of law that impact religious expression. This study will center on France, a vocal supporter of secular values, and Bahrain, a Muslim state that has placed emphasis on improving religious freedom over the past decade. Ultimately, this paper argues that the inclusion of a secular clause in a nation's constitution does not necessitate a higher degree of religious freedom. Theoretical Framework In 1870, the term “secularism” was coined by British writer George Holyoake to describe a moral code that exists independently from religious doctrine. Today, secularism is defined as “ the principle of separation of the state from religious institutions” (Oxford Languages), though the degree to which secular countries separate church and state varies widely . For example, while Indonesia is constitutionally secular, the Aceh region of the country is under Sharia law. The discrepancies in how secularism manifests in countries’ legal structures necessitates further exploration on how secularism has historically been conceptualized and defined. Though many scholars have addressed secularism, much of the discourse has been from a Western perspective, which led to significant bias in early secular theory. Max Weber and Emile Durkheim’s work hypothesized that secularism and modernity were tied (Cannell, 2010); the authors identified the decline of traditional religious belief in Europe as the result of technological advancements and economic growth. One notable criticism of this theory came from Talcott Parsons, who claimed that the patterns of religious participation in Europe should not serve as an indicator for global secular trends (Cannell, 2010). Parsons further argued that Weber’s essay, The Protestant Work Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism , exhibited a Eurocentric perspective (Cannell, 2010). Additionally, Protestant Ethic displayed sentiments of Western supremacy and presented capitalism as the ultimate economic system (Weber, 1905). Peter Berger is another critic of the theory that secularism is connected to modernization. He argued that traditional religious beliefs were not being abandoned and were instead evolving, and cited the development and upsurge of evangelism in the United States as evidence (Berger, 1999). Despite criticism, however, Weber and Durkheim’s theory remained prevalent for several decades (Cannell, 2010). This skewed academic perceptions of secularism and linked the concept to a Western and capitalist definition of progress. The absence of an internationally accepted definition of secularism, and varying religious, social, and governmental structures across the world further complicate how secularism is defined. However, newer discourse on secularism has reflected a more comprehensive view of the concept. In his 2003 book, Formations of the Secular, Talal Asad posited that the Western perception of secularism as progressive is inaccurate and underscored the Western European origins of contemporary secularism. Asad emphasized that liberal secularism should not apply to all societies and that it allows for the prohibition of certain religious practices; this paper adopts Asad’s stance and argues that the prohibition of religious practices legitimizes discriminatory policies. Further, Asad states that “the ideology of political representation in liberal democracies makes it difficult if not impossible to represent Muslims as Muslims … Because in theory the citizens who constitute a democratic state belong to a class that is defined only by what is common to all its members and its members only.” Using this lens, this paper asserts that French laws limiting religious practice in the public sphere further isolate religious minority groups. Asad’s contributions to secular discourse and his discussion on belonging and identity in a liberal democratic state lead to the question of whether constitutional secularism offers a higher degree of religious tolerance within a country when compared to a nation that has an established state religion. Through the collection and analysis of laws impacting religious practice in France and Bahrain, this paper seeks to support Asad’s conclusions and determine the degree to which constitutionally secular nations are able to promote religious freedom. Although previous comparative case studies on secular and Muslim countries are extremely limited, John Bowen’s article , Religious Discrimination and Religious Governance Across Secular and Islamic Countries: France and Indonesia as Limiting Cases (2010) offers a selection of preliminary findings and sheds light on areas in need of additional study. In the article, Bowen concluded that there is notable overlap in policy between France and Indonesia. Bowen argued that despite having different governmental structures and views on religion’s place in the public sphere, similar policies appeared in both countries. Additionally, Bowen called for further comparative study on the scope of this phenomenon to expand upon his research into other aspects and applications of secular policy. Building on observations on policy overlap between France and Indonesia, this paper explores the similarities and differences between France’s religious policies and those of Bahrain – a Muslim state. This comparison provides further insight into the legitimacy of the theory that secularism fosters higher levels of religious freedom. A. Measuring Religious Freedom The United Nations guarantees religious freedom in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the Declaration on the Elimination of All Forms of Intolerance and of Discrimination Based on Religion or Belief. The UDHR and ICCPR incorporate a number of components into their definition of religious freedom: the freedom to adopt, change, or renounce a religion, freedom from coercion, the right to manifest one’s religion, the freedom to worship, the ability to establish and maintain places of worship, the right to display religious symbols, the ability to observe holidays, and protection from discrimination on the basis of religion. While there is no single, defined approach to measuring religious freedom, the definition provided by the UDHR and ICCPR allows for guidance in evaluation. Additionally, multiple non-governmental organizations (NGOs) have used different metrics to measure religious freedom, which, when combined with international standards for defining religious freedom, aid in understanding how to accurately assess the subject. For example, the Pew Research Center (PRC) measures religious freedom by analyzing both social and governmental restrictions on religious action (2016). Since constitutional secularism exists within the confines of state law, this paper focuses solely on governmental policies surrounding religious expression. The social perception of other religions and religious freedom, while important, does not relate directly to the argument and would be best analyzed in further studies. A second way of measuring religious freedom is through the framework used in Freedom House’s annual freedom reports, which ranks countries on a scale of 1 to 4 (1 being the lowest possible score) in a number of categories, including freedom of religious expression. In its 2020 reports, Freedom House asks, “Are individuals free to practice and express their religious faith or nonbelief in public and private?” to determine the level of religious freedom in a country. This paper uses this question, the presence of governmental restriction on religious action (as outlined by the PRC), and the components of religious freedom listed by the UDHR and the ICCPR as a definition of what religious freedom looks like in practice and utilizes the definition for legal analysis. Though there are many laws governing religion in France and Bahrain, this paper focuses on laws that directly impact religious practice. The paper highlights seven categories of law as markers of religious freedom. The groups of law reflect a combination of the approaches used by the Pew Research Center and Freedom House, as well as relevant components of the UDHR and ICCPR’s definition of religious freedom; each section examines an aspect of government restriction imposed on free religious practice (apart from Constitutional Status, which offers critical context on the legal setting in the countries), and categories selected answer whether individuals are free to practice in public and private. III. Background France’s deeply entrenched notion of laïcité, which allows for extreme criticism of religion in the public sphere, is contrasted by Bahrain’s stringent anti-blasphemy policies that protect all registered religions from criticism. Each of these ideologies is rooted in the history and culture of the two nations. This difference in approaching public discourse is one of various examples where France and Bahrain diverge in their policies surrounding religion. To understand policy-making relating to religious practice in France and Bahrain, it is necessary to establish baseline knowledge on the histories of the nations. A. France Religious History and Laïcité — Before the French Revolution, Catholicism was the official religion of France. The conversion of Clovis I in the late 400s tied France to the papacy, and later monarchs enjoyed close relations with the Church. Hundreds of years of Catholic influence on the French monarchy and corruption within both institutions contributed to growing resentment towards the Church, which peaked during the early stages of the French Revolution and subsequent Reign of Terror. Demands for a secular government were followed by the persecution and murder of Catholic clergy members in the late 1700s. Though Napoleon Bonaparte reconciled with the Catholic Church in 1801, France did not reinstate Catholicism as the national religion. Over the next century, France continued to dechristianize the public sphere, culminating in the Loi du 9 décembre 1905 concernant la séparation des Églises et de l'État (1905 law on the separation of churches and state). Since the Revolution, France has developed a unique brand of secularism, laïcité, that goes beyond the separation of church and state, arguing that religious expression should remain outside the view of the public eye. This ideology has manifested itself in laws that prohibit the wearing of religious symbols in public schools and ban face coverings. The concept of laïcité has changed, however, since its original conception. As discussed by Eoin Daly (2012), secularism has moved beyond separating church and state and now acts as a justification to move differing religious identities into a private sphere and promote a French identity embedded in shared national values. A 2020 report by the French government offered clarification on the country’s reasoning surrounding laïcité: The freedom to express one’s religious convictions can be limited for the sake of public order, under conditions defined by the law. Freedom must, however, always be the rule, and the limitations the exception, in view of the constitutional principles enshrined in our Republic and France’s international commitments, with which such legal restrictions must be compatible. An additional outcome of laïcité is the prohibition of data collection pertaining to religious affiliation; this policy makes it somewhat difficult to gain a holistic picture of France’s religious landscape. The Religious Futures Project at the Pew Research Center (2016) estimates that 58.1% of the population is Christian, 8.3% is Muslim, and 31.9% is unaffiliated as of 2020. Notable trends include growth in France’s Muslim population (due to increased immigration from former French colonies in Africa), a consistent decrease in people identifying as Catholic, and increased growth in those identifying as unaffiliated. Of the 12 national holidays in France, 7 celebrate Catholic events, which seemingly contradicts France’s strict separation of national and religious affairs. France is currently scored as 3 out of 4 on freedom of religious expression by Freedom House (2020). Recent Events and Political Climate — Law surrounding religious practice in France has been heavily influenced by numerous terrorist attacks over the past decades. During the 1980s and 90s, France saw various attacks by numerous groups: Hezbollah, an integrist Catholic group, the Armed Islamist Group, and other non-religious groups like Action Directe (Shapiro & Suzan, 2003). The 2000s brought more deadly attacks, the majority of which had connections to Islamist groups. Following a series of bombings, shootings, and stabbings by various Islamist groups in 2014 and 2015, France enacted laws increasing government surveillance (Law Nº 2669, 2015) and anti-terrorism efforts (Law Nº 1353, 2014). Terrorist attacks led to a renewed emphasis on laïcité in the political sphere. Far-right isolationist parties led by politicians like Marine Le Pen incorporated anti-Muslim messaging in their campaigns, promising French voters safety from radical Islam (Fieschi, 2020). In this climate of frequent terror attacks and the rise of far-right parties, France created and amended legislation surrounding religious practice. B. Bahrain History — Bahrain, located off the coast of Saudi Arabia, fell under the control of various empires before declaring independence from the British in 1971 (Gardner, 2017). Known for its pearl beds and freshwater springs, the island was seen as highly desirable by political entities. This caused numerous changes in leadership. From the 1400-1800s, the territory of Bahrain was controlled by the Omanis, Portugal, Persia, the ‘Utub (a Sunni tribal confederation), and the United Kingdom (Gardner, 2017). Throughout the centuries of changing leadership, Bahrain developed a diverse population. The pearl trade brought merchants from all over the world, and the territory was exposed to many ideologies, religions, and cultures as a result of the various empires that had taken control of the island. Though small populations of Jewish, Hindu, and Christian people have lived in Bahrain over past centuries, Islam has been the predominant religion since its introduction to the indigenous population in the 640s (Gardner, 2017). The majority of Muslim Bahraini people identify as Shi’a. However, a smaller Sunni elite has ruled the country since the arrival of the Sunni al-Khalifa family, who came with the ‘Utub. Bahrain was declared a monarchy in 2002, headed by King Hamad bin Isa al-Khalifa, who remains in power today. According to the Religious Futures Project at the Pew Research Center (2016), 69.7% of the population is Muslim, and within that group, roughly 60% is Shi’a and 35-40% is Sunni; 14.1% of the population is Christian, 10.2% is Hindu, and 2% is unaffiliated as of 2020. Bahrain is currently scored as 1 out of 4 on freedom of religious expression by Freedom House (2020). Recent Events and Political Climate — In 2011, Bahrain served as a starting point for the Arab Spring in the Gulf countries. The country saw massive protests from the Shi’a community, who decried unfair treatment by the Sunni government. The government reacted by killing and arresting protestors, destroying Shi’a mosques, and dismantling the traffic circle that had served as the uprising’s epicenter. Following condemnation by the international community and human rights organizations, King Hamad launched an investigation and resolved to enforce policies to improve tensions between the Shi’a and Sunni groups (U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom Report on Bahrain, 2020). While the initial success of these policies was contested, the government has taken significant steps in the past decade to ameliorate the state of religious freedom in Bahrain (USCIRF, 2020). The government, which had rescinded the citizenships of 1000 Bahrainis (most of whom were Shi’a) due to alleged security threats, reinstated over half of their citizenships in 2020 (USCIRF, 2020). While typically met with government hostility, the Shi'a holiday Ashura remained largely peaceful in 2020 and 2021; discourse concerning Ashura between the Sunni government and Shi’a clerics has eased tensions between the parties to allow for the celebration of the holiday. However, despite improvement, tensions remain between the Sunni and Shi’a communities. In terms of relations with non-Muslim groups, the Bahraini government is notably tolerant of other religions. There are 19 recognized religions in the country, all of which are able to practice their respective beliefs freely. IV. Methodology A. Overview This study aimed to determine whether the legal framework of a secular state fosters higher degrees of religious freedom than that of a religious state. This paper uses a comparative case study approach to ensure a balanced review of France’s domestic policy concerning religious practice. Further, the comparative case study model offers critical insight into the caveats of secular policy when implemented on a national scale. Bahrain was chosen as a comparative subject because it is a Muslim state in which members of various other religious groups reside. The primary goal of data collection was to gain a deeper understanding of the laws impacting religious practice in both countries. To effectively compare the two countries, specific areas of policy were chosen (listed in Table I) following the combined framework of Freedom House and the Pew Research Center described in the Theoretical Framework section. Primary qualitative data concerning policy was taken from law databases published by the French government. Secondary qualitative data was extracted from reports on Bahrain and France by the United States Commission for Religious Freedom (USCIRF), the United States embassy, and Freedom House country reports. The search process yielded a number of pertinent laws surrounding religious practices in France and Bahrain. B. Comparing Policy on Domestic Religious Practice Information on France’s laws was sourced from the government. Translations were provided by the author unless indicated otherwise. The United States State Department reports informed general knowledge on the legal framework surrounding religious practice. Due to the general inaccessibility of translated laws from a Bahraini government source, information about religious laws in Bahrain was obtained from United States government reports. Recognizing the potential bias of the United States government, only objective data (such as the description of laws) was used in this paper. Areas of crucial law were chosen after general study on legal frameworks surrounding religious practice; the categories of policy listed in Table I were selected because they represent the most direct interaction between the government and religious groups and reflect international standards for religious freedom as expressed by UDHR and ICCPR documents. It was imperative that both countries had laws falling under each assigned category, otherwise, policies could not be compared. Laws were evaluated based on the level to which they promoted or inhibited freedom of religious expression, and a compare and contrast approach was used, reflecting the style of Bowen. Larger implications and enforcement of the laws were not considered, as the repercussions of policy were too far-reaching to effectively encompass in this comparative case study. Instead, analysis of laws consisted of identifying common themes and key similarities and differences between the legal frameworks of France and Bahrain. Other peripheral areas of law could be colored by religious or secular ideologies, such as marriage laws. However, to keep the scope of this study appropriately narrow, peripheral policies were not considered. V. Results: Analysis of Legal Frameworks of France and Bahrain A. Constitutional Status The constitutional statutes of France and Bahrain are, as discussed earlier, on opposite sides of the ideological spectrum. These religious designations are detailed below for context. (i) France Article 1 of the French constitution states “France shall be an indivisible, secular, democratic and social Republic.” (ii) Bahrain Article 2 of the Bahraini constitution states “The religion of the State is Islam. The Islamic Shari’a is a principal source for legislation.” B. Anti-Discrimination Laws (In Reference to Religion) Both France and Bahrain have clauses in their constitutions prohibiting discrimination against others on the basis of faith. Beyond their respective constitutions, both countries have enacted laws forbidding hiring and workplace discrimination in relation to religious affiliations, as listed below. (i) France [The internal regulation] may not contain provisions which would prejudice the employees because of their sex, morals, sexual orientation, age, family situation, origins, opinions, religious beliefs, physical appearance, name, or disability, when they have equal professional capacity capability (L. 122-35, 2008). (ii) Bahrain The labor law prohibits discrimination in the public sector on grounds of religion or faith. The law also stipulates recourse through a complaint process to the Ministry of Labor and Social Development to legal bodies in the event of discrimination or dismissal in the work place on the basis of religion (U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom, Bahrain, 2019). Analysis — The anti-discrimination clauses in both the countries’ constitutions have been further developed into active laws. The overlap of anti-discrimination policy in France and Bahrain shows that, in this case, a secular country and a religious state are able to promote religious freedom in the same capacity. C. Registration with the Government and Government Funding Both the French and Bahraini governments have registration processes in place for religious organizations. Recognition of a religious group by the respective governments allows for financial support, whether that comes in the form of subsidization or tax-exempt status. As government registration is tied to financial support in each country, the process allows the state to maintain relative control over the religious makeup of the nation; this is achieved to varying degrees in accordance with the requirements of the law. (i) France According to the 2019 USCIRF report on France: In France, religions are not required to register with the government. However, in order to receive official recognition, tax-exempt status or financial aid, religious groups must go through a number of processes. To receive tax-exempt status and official recognition as a religion, groups must apply as associations of worship, and to receive government funding, groups can apply as cultural associations. Religious organizations are able to qualify as both an association of worship and a cultural association, thus receiving tax-exempt status and government funding. It should be noted, however, that government funding is permitted only to go towards non-religious activities hosted by a religious group, such as educational programming. Despite Article 2 of the Law of 1905 Concerning the Separation of Church and State stating “ The Republic does not recognize, pay or subsidize any religion”, the French government owns and operates religious buildings built before 1905. Approximately 90% of Catholic buildings in France are subsidized by the government, while 12% of Protestant churches and 3% of Jewish temples are subsidized as a result of the law. There are no Buddhist or Muslim centers of worship subsidized by the government (French Senate report, 2015). (ii) Bahrain According to the 2019 USCIRF report on Bahrain: Bahrain’s government requires that religions register in accordance with their faith. Sunni and Shi’a organizations register with the Ministry of Justice and Islamic Affairs and Endowments and register further with the Sunni and Shi’a Waqfs to receive funding. Non-Muslim groups must register with the Ministry of Labor and Social Development, during which they must provide a number of details (including minutes from meetings, personal information on founders and the group’s bylaws). Religious groups (Muslim and non-Muslim) are not allowed to receive funding from foreign donors, and money collection is monitored by the government. Analysis — Bahrain’s laws surrounding the funding of religious groups and registration with the government are more stringent than France’s. However, while France does not require registration, restrictions from funding and tax-exempt status for non-registered groups act as significant incentives in pushing organizations to submit an application to the government. In both cases, the government seeks access to information on religious groups, though Bahrain attempts to monitor activities to a more extreme extent than France. While this does not necessarily infringe on the status of religious freedom, the laws in both countries allow significant room for discriminatory funding. An example of this was displayed in a 2015 French Senate report that noted the vast majority of France’s 2,500 mosques receive little to no public funding while Catholic institutions are almost entirely subsidized, but pointed to Muslims’ inability to organize and register with the government as the reason for funding inequality (2015 French Senate report, 23). As this claim is difficult to quantifiably prove, it allowed the government plausible deniability on the lack of funding for Muslim organizations. In Bahrain, disproportionate funding for Muslim organizations is enshrined in the country’s laws. While France’s legal framework surrounding registration is not as strict as Bahrain’s in this case, policies in both countries enable an unequal distribution of funding. D. Religion in the Public Sphere: Freedom of Speech and Religious Symbols The French and Bahraini approaches to religion in the public sphere offer vastly different interpretations of the promotion of religious freedom. Nevertheless, both countries are stringent in their application of the law. (i) France France has various laws protecting freedom of speech. In reference to religion, Article 10 of the 1789 Declaration of Human and Civic Rights states that “no one may be disturbed on account of his opinions, even religious ones, as long as the manifestation of such opinions does not interfere with the established Law and Order.” According to the 2019 USCIRF France report: In accordance with secular law, people employed by the government are not allowed to wear signs of religious affiliation in the workplace or in public spaces. A 2010 law prohibits face coverings in public places, including the wearing of a niqab or burqa; refusing to remove the face covering can result in a 150 euro fine. (ii)Bahrain Bahrain has anti-blasphemy laws that apply to all religions. The penal code calls for punishment of up to one year’s imprisonment or a fine of up to 100 dinars ($270) for offending one of the recognized religious groups or their practices, or for openly defaming a religious figure considered sacred to members of a particular group. The law stipulates fines or imprisonment for insulting an institution, announcing false or malicious news, spreading rumors, encouraging others to show contempt for a different religious denomination or sect, illegally gathering, and advocating for a change of government, among other offenses. The law prohibits anti-Islamic publications and broadcast media programs and mandates imprisonment of no less than six months for ‘exposing the state’s official religion to offense and criticism (USCIRF, Bahrain, 2019). Non-Muslims are not required to wear traditional Muslim clothing. The law allows non-Muslim places of worship to display religious symbols. Analysis — In summary, French law allows for extensive freedom of speech in reference to religion while Bahrain maintains strict laws on speech in reference to religion. Both of these policies purport to uphold religious equality; in France, one may critique any religion, while in Bahrain there is no tolerance for criticism of any religion. These laws are a clear example of where France and Bahrain diverge ideologically, but the difference in approach does not mean one policy is more effective than the other in promoting equal access to religious expression. In France, varying definitions of hate speech and the government’s high tolerance for criticism of religion can be exploited to target minority religions. In Bahrain, anti-blasphemy laws protect all religious groups from hate speech, but policy blatantly favors the interests of Muslim groups. While the laws in France and Bahrain are opposites in intention, they both result in bias towards the dominant religious group. When comparing the two countries, Bahrain allows for more freedom in expressing religious affiliation in public spaces. French laws prohibiting face coverings directly infringe on Muslim women’s abilities to fulfill religious duties, and the ban of ostentatious religious symbols in public settings does not allow citizens to express their religion freely. Religious dress is a significant aspect of many traditions, including Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. The prohibition of wearing religious garments violates an adherent’s beliefs and negates religious freedom. Bahrain does not have specific laws regarding religious dress, though it should be noted that societal norms dictate a culture of modesty. That being said, as this paper is reviewing formal law, Bahrain is significantly less stringent in the ruling of religious dress from a policy perspective. E. Religion in Education (i) France France’s attempts to keep religion out of the public sphere are clearly reflected in policies surrounding religion in the public school system. Public schools are secular. The law prohibits public school employees from wearing visible signs of religious affiliation and students from wearing “conspicuous religious symbols,” including the Muslim headscarf, Jewish skullcap, Sikh turban, and large Christian crosses (USCIRF, France, 2019). In terms of private education: By law, the government subsidizes private schools, including those affiliated with religious organizations. In 98 percent of private schools, in accordance with the law, the government pays the teachers’ salaries, provided the school accepts all children regardless of their religious affiliation. The law does not address the issue of religious instruction in government-subsidized private schools or whether students must be allowed to opt out of such instruction (USCIRF, France, 2019). (ii) Bahrain Because Bahrain is a Muslim state, religious instruction is heavily incorporated in the school system. The law regulates Islamic religious instruction at all levels of the education system. The government funds public schools for grades 1-12; Islamic studies are mandatory for all Muslim students and are optional for non-Muslims. Private schools must register with the government and, with a few exceptions (for example, a foreign funded and foreign operated school), are also required to provide Islamic religious education for Muslim students. Private schools wishing to provide non-Islamic religious education to non-Muslims must receive permission from the Ministry of Education (USCIRF, Bahrain, 2019). In terms of private education: The government also permits non-Muslim groups to offer religious instruction to their adherents in private schools (USCIRF, Bahrain, 2019). Analysis — While France maintains secularism within the educational system, the banning of religious symbols in schools infringes on religious freedom. As addressed earlier, the prohibition of religious garb violates the ability of an individual to freely practice their belief. Although Bahrain emphasizes Islam in education, the ability for non-Muslim students to opt out maintains religious freedom. Therefore, Bahrain allows for a higher degree of religious expression within the education system. F. Anti-Terrorism Policy The other sections of law described above have direct influence on the ability of religious adherents to practice their belief in the public and private spheres. Though anti-terrorism policy may not initially appear as an area of law that has an impact on religious freedom, both France and Bahrain have employed discriminatory practices labeled as tactics to fight extremism. (i) France The French perception of religion’s ties to terrorism is demonstrated by legislation that specifically targets religious institutions. Counterterrorism legislation grants prefects in each department the authority to close a place of worship for a maximum of six months if they find comments, writings, or activities in the place of worship “provoke violence, hatred or discrimination or the commission of acts of terrorism or praise such acts of terrorism.” The management of the place of worship has 48 hours to appeal the closure decision to an administrative court. Noncompliance with a closure decision carries a six-month prison sentence and a fine of 7,500 euros ($8,400) (USCIRF, France, 2019). In March 2021, a bill aimed at combating radicalism and separatism (titled Supporting Respect for the Principles of the Republic) was passed through the lower house of Parliament and went to the Senate. On April 13th, 2021, the Senate added stipulations to the bill that were viewed as harsher than the initial proposals (Woods, 2021). The original bill would, among other things, restrict people from home-schooling their children, crack down on polygamy and forced marriages, and make the sharing of someone’s private life and location illegal (N° 3649 rectifié, 2021). Excerpts from the edited bill are detailed below: If passed, the bill would, among other things, prohibit the wearing of the veil and other ostentatious religious symbols to persons accompanying school trips, allow the internal regulations of swimming pools and public bathing areas to prohibit the wearing of the burkini, and prevent the issuance and renewal of residence permits for individuals who are found to have expressed a rejection of the principles of the Republic (Loi confortant le respect des principes de la République, 2021). (ii) Bahrain There are penalties of up to five years in prison for encouraging or possessing materials that support “terrorist activities.” Bahrain imposed one round of sanctions against individuals and entities affiliated with the Iranian regime’s terror-support networks in the region. The government is also able to expel individuals who are suspected of terrorist activity (U.S. State Department, Report on Terrorism, Bahrain, 2019). In terms of reconciliation efforts between the Sunni and Shi’a communities: In coordination with the Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs, a team of Ministry of Education-appointed experts routinely reviews and develops the Islamic studies of the public school curriculum to emphasize shared Islamic values between different Sunni and Shi’a schools of thought, reject extremism, and promote tolerance and coexistence (USCIRF, Bahrain, 2019). Analysis — In both countries, many of the laws surrounding anti-terrorism efforts can be easily exploited to target specific groups of people. In France, the closing of worship centers has solely impacted mosques, while Bahrain’s expulsion policy has primarily impacted leaders of the Shi’a community. France’s new bill comes on the heels of a speech by President Macron condemning separatism in the country. While the legislative language does not name any religion directly, the explanatory statement preceding the bill states the following: An insidious but powerful communitarian entryism is slowly destroying the foundations of our society in certain areas. This entryism is essentially of Islamist inspiration. It is the manifestation of a conscious, theorized, politico-religious political project, the ambition of which is to make religious norms prevail over the common law that we have freely given ourselves (Loi nº 3649, 2021). Because the bill refers to Islamism as the reason for the legislation, much of the proposal is aimed directly at Muslim communities. The recently added stipulations show a harsher, more direct targeting of the Muslim community in France. Anti-terrorism policy in Bahrain targets members of the Shi’a community who are seen as causing separatism. This was prevalently displayed when the kingdom expelled a number of Shi’a individuals, who were eventually granted re-entry when no evidence of terrorist activity was found. In this sense, Bahrain and France are notably similar in their reasoning and justification for anti-extremist laws. VI. Discussion The results support the argument that a constitutionally secular country does not necessarily foster a higher degree of religious freedom than a religious state. Despite being ideologically opposed in reference to religion in government, France and Bahrain share overlaps in policy, as seen in the Anti-Discrimination Laws, Registration with Government and Government Funding, and Anti-Terrorism Policy sections of the analysis. Beyond policies that target or disproportionately impact a specific religious group, France and Bahrain employ inclusive anti-discrimination laws in their labor codes. In this case, both countries pledge to condemn religious discrimination in the hiring process or workplace. The countries employ similar registration policies for religious groups, directly tying legal access to practice and tax incentives to cooperation with state entities. A third overlap is in anti-terrorism efforts, often labeled as anti-extremist policies. France and Bahrain have enacted a number of alarming anti-extremism laws, often using vague wording (such as “terrorist activities” or “rejection to the principles of the Republic”) that hand significant power to the government’s interpretations of actions or words; the wording of laws allows for exploitation of the policies to fulfill specific agendas, as seen by Bahrain’s expulsion of Shi’a individuals and French policymakers’ justification for the “Supporting Respect for the Principles of the Republic” bill. While not all of the measures taken to combat extremism negatively impact specific religious communities, both countries have used anti-terrorism policies to target religious groups perceived as threatening to the state. A clear demonstration of the negative impacts of legislative rhetoric is reflected in the interchangeability of anti-terrorist and anti-extremist policies; in both countries, the targeted religious groups have become synonymous with terrorism. The similarities in the justifications and immediate outcomes of laws surrounding religious practice in France and Bahrain aid in showing that the label of “constitutionally secular” does not equate to increased levels of religious freedom, as both states are equally capable of implementing policies that positively and negatively impact religious expression. In the sections Religion in Education and Religion in the Public Sphere , France and Bahrain display significant differences in approach. In both cases, Bahrain exhibited higher degrees of tolerance for religious practice in public and for minority religious groups in general. France’s policies on wearing ostentatious religious symbols in public spaces disproportionately impact the Muslim and Jewish communities, all of whom have integrated religious garb into their belief systems. Further, while Bahrain emphasizes Islam in education, the country allows for non-Muslim students to opt out of those classes and does not prohibit students from wearing alternative religious symbols. France has yet to create laws around the ability of students to opt out of religious instruction at private schools, despite most private schools being funded by the government. France’s integration of discriminatory secular policy into the public sphere and the education system strengthens the argument that states with official religions, like Bahrain, can allow for higher levels of religious freedom in some areas of society. A potential explanation for this is how France and Bahrain approach religious identity. At its core, France’s secular ideology attempts to ignore religious identity altogether. Nonetheless, the rise of radical Islam in the country, a Christian-majority population, and the dynamics between France and Muslim-majority former colonial countries led to the French Muslim community becoming an easily-targeted scapegoat. In Bahrain, however, the historical presence of non-Muslim religions and a national understanding of the importance of spiritual affiliation have allowed for a legal framework cognizant of religious identity. This is not to say that Bahrain has created the ideal legal structure, but instead that the recognition of religious affiliation’s significance allows for development in the realm of religious freedom. France has shown regression in freedom of religious expression where Bahrain has displayed consistent progress; this trend further supports the theory that some religious states are appropriately situated to cultivate a society that offers higher degrees of religious freedom. The findings of this paper are consistent with Asad’s theory on secularism’s potential to be discriminatory and builds on Bowen’s observations of the French and Indonesian judicial systems. As showcased by secular laws in France disproportionately targeting and impacting Muslim individuals, the label of laïcité creates a wall of Western liberal ideology for policymakers to hide behind. Bowen argues that France and Indonesia, despite opposing views on the role of religion in the judicial system, adopt very similar policy positions. Bowen’s focus on how each of the countries deals with religious discrimination in the courts yields primarily positive observations, and he notes that the foundations of both systems attempt to promote fairness and equality. Bowen’s findings differ from the analysis of laws in this paper, which is likely because this paper focused on policy reaching beyond anti-discrimination laws and did not note the outcomes in judicial proceedings concerning religious discrimination. Even with the differences in tone between Bowen’s findings and the analyses in this paper, the outcomes of the study are in alignment with Bowen’s conclusion; despite being on different ends of the ideological spectrum, a secular state and a religious state bear significant resemblance to each other in terms of the legal framework. A. Addressing Inconsistencies with Freedom House The laws explored in this study paint a picture of France and Bahrain as both employing policies that negatively impact a specific religious group. In some instances, Bahrain displayed higher degrees of religious tolerance, despite the West’s view of secularism as more progressive. However, the findings of this paper are not reflected in Freedom House’s scoring of France and Bahrain on religious freedom in their respective 2020 reports. As discussed earlier, the NGO ranked France a 3 out of 4 and Bahrain a 1 out of 4 in response to the following question: “Are individuals free to practice and express their religious faith or nonbelief in public and private?” The laws discussed in the analysis portion of this paper display France’s various policies against public displays of religious affiliation; these laws blatantly interfere with expression of religious faith in public, implying that France should be scored lower than a 3 within the Freedom House framework. In the case of Bahrain, while there have been numerous infringements on religious freedom (specifically to target the Shi’a community), the report did not provide sufficient evidence to rank the country significantly below France. The report even notes that “non-Muslim minorities are generally free to practice their faiths.” Freedom House then discusses government discrimination against the Shi’a population by citing the events of the Arab Spring in 2011 (a reference that does not reflect the contemporary political atmosphere in Bahrain) and the arrest of Shi’a clerics accused of spreading messages of separatism. However, the report also states that “Shiite communities are free to carry out religious observances, such as the annual Ashura processions,” which exhibits a governmental commitment to religious freedom. Conversely, the 2020 French report describes current tensions saying, “Islamophobic rhetoric from prominent politicians and public figures on both the left and right is not uncommon. Multiple attacks at mosques throughout the country occurred in 2019.” After a review of the 2020 Freedom Reports for France and Bahrain, it appears that there is inconsistency in the way Freedom House scores religious freedom. While there are numerous valid criticisms of the state of religious freedom in both countries, Freedom House ignored many laws in both France and Bahrain when scoring, resulting in a potentially skewed and inaccurate representation of the legal frameworks that unjustifiably favors France. B. Limitations of Study This was a limited case study, so these findings are merely a reflection of the laws and policies addressing religious practice in France and Bahrain. While the framework used in this study could be applied to comparing religious freedom in other nations, other cases were not considered in this paper. Further limitations include the scope of the study, which consisted of governmental restrictions and focused on legal frameworks but did not address political rhetoric involvement in international treaties or agreements, or relations with secular and religious states. Further, this paper did not consider societal restrictions, which include the presence of anti-religious attacks, non-governmental groups that target religious communities, online rhetoric, and general hostility towards certain religious groups. Studies that explore these factors are necessary to gain a holistic understanding of the differing degrees of religious freedom in secular and religious countries. VII. Conclusion Comparing seven key areas of law within the French and Bahraini legal frameworks shows that there is significant overlap in legislation, intention, and policy outcomes. But how does this comparison link to the larger discussion around religious freedom and the validity of secularism? France, a country that prides itself on the value of laïcité, implements a number of discriminatory policies that predominantly impact Muslim citizens. In the public sphere, individuals who belong to faiths that utilize clothing as an expression of affiliation cannot practice their religions to the full extent. The idea of separating the religious self from the public self displays an understanding of religious belief as a secondary identity. For many, spiritual affiliation is a primary identity. Therefore, French laws surrounding religious practice are not applicable in a universal sense, nor do they foster a wide breadth of religious freedom for all faiths. Religious states, who are typically viewed as unable to foster high degrees of religious freedom, have equal opportunity to promote a religiously pluralistic society through legislation. While not all religious states choose to foster a space for minority religious groups, nations like Bahrain have made significant efforts to advance religious freedom. Though this study was limited to France and Bahrain, the countries are not outliers. While Bahrain deviates somewhat from other Gulf nations, Qatar, and to a lesser extent Oman, have legal frameworks in place to support spiritual pluralism and religious freedom. Other countries, such as Bhutan, Liechtenstein, Thailand, Andorra, and Brunei, are religious states viewed as fostering religious freedom. While there are religious states that suppress religious freedom, the analysis suggests that religious countries may be uniquely positioned to create legal frameworks inclusive of a population that views religious affiliation as a primary identity. Although Bahrain has not yet reached the point of fostering equal religious freedom for all groups, national policies show an understanding of the importance of ritual practice and religious identity. Beyond supporting the hypothesis, the findings of this paper suggest the need for a shift in thinking when evaluating secular and religious states. As displayed by the inconsistencies in scoring throughout the Freedom House annual reports on France and Bahrain, the West remains biased in favor of secular European systems of government. Moving forward, Western NGOs and government agencies should consider viewing religious affiliation as a primary identity when assessing legal frameworks and government policies instead of using a secular lens as the default perspective. 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R. “Religious Discrimination and Religious Governance Across Secular and Islamic Countries: France and Indonesia as Limiting Cases.” American Behavioral Scientist, 53 (2010): 1749-1762. doi:10.1177/0002764210368095. Cannell, Fenella. “The Anthropology of Secularism.” Annual Review of Anthropology 39, no. 1 (2010): 85-100. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev.anthro.012809.105039 . Daly, E. “The Ambiguous Reach of Constitutional Secularism in Republican France: Revisiting the Idea of Laicite and Political Liberalism as Alternatives.” Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 32 (2012): 583-608. doi:10.1093/ojls/gqs011. Erlanger, Steven. “France Enforces Ban on Full-Face Veils in Public.” The New York Times. April 11, 2011. https://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/12/world/europe/12france.html . Fieschi, Catherine. “Muslims and the secular city: How right-wing populists shape the French debate over Islam.” Brookings. March 09, 2022. https://www.brookings.edu/research/muslims-and-the-secular-city-how-right-wing-populi sts-shape-the-french-debate-over-islam/ . “France: Freedom in the World 2020 Country Report.” Freedom House 2020. https://freedomhouse.org/country/france/freedom-world/2020 “French police make woman remove clothing on Nice beach following burkini ban.” The Guardian. August 23, 2016. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/aug/24/french-police-make-woman-remove-burkini-on-nice-beach Gardner, Andrew M. City of Strangers: Gulf Migration and the Indian Community in Bahrain . Cornell University Press, 2017. Holyoake, George Jacob. Principles of Secularism , Chapter 2. Project Gutenberg, 1870. Le Pen, Marine. “22 Mesures Pour 2022”. 2022. https://mlafrance.fr/pdfs/22-mesures-pour-2022.pdf . “Religions in France: French Religion Data: GRF.” Pew-Templeton Global Religious Futures Project. http://www.globalreligiousfutures.org/countries/france#/?affiliations_religion_id=0&affiliations_year=2010®ion_name=All%20Countries&restrictions_year=2016 . “Religions in Bahrain: Bahrain Religion Data: GRF.” Pew-Templeton Global Religious Futures Project. http://www.globalreligiousfutures.org/countries/bahrain/religious_restrictions#/?region_name=All Countries&restrictions_year=2016. Ruck, Damien J., Bentley, Alexander R., & Lawson, Daniel. “Religious change preceded economic change in the 20th century.” Science Advances, 4 (2018). doi:10.1126/sciadv.aar8680. “Secular Countries.” World Population Review. 2020. https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/secular-countries . 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- Shoring Against Our Ruin: An Investigation of Profound Boredom in Our Return to Normal Life
Author Name < Back Shoring Against Our Ruin: An Investigation of Profound Boredom in Our Return to Normal Life Virginia Moscetti Returning to campus after what felt like a lifetime of virtual schooling, quarantining, and all the other cheerful aspects of living and studying during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was thrilled to finally return to a normal college experience. And yet, it has been anything but normal. Besides the fact that the pandemic continues to drag on indefinitely, bringing with it certain indispensable COVID prevention strategies, like mask-wearing and bi-weekly testing, there is something more obstructing my return to the normal, pre-pandemic college experience I had so eagerly anticipated. My old routines now feel empty, and my previous passions and interests have fallen flat. I trudge about daily life listlessly, keeping up with my academic and extracurricular commitments simply because I don’t want to royally screw up the rest of my life. In short, I am bored, and I’m not the only person to feel this way. According to a recent article by Times Magazine, approximately 12 million Americans quit their jobs last summer. For Americans between the ages of 20-34, 14 million have either resigned or neglected to join the traditional workforce. While some resigned in pursuit of higher wages and better working conditions, a significant portion of Americans sought non-traditional jobs or simply reveled in “funemployment”. This phenomenon, informally termed “The Great Resignation,” is deeply connected to the pandemic and our recent quasi-return to normal. During the initial stages of the pandemic, everything came to a standstill. Going to work, walking to class, living in a dorm, and frequenting friends and family was no longer possible. Daily routines, as a result, altered substantially. We became accustomed to working, studying, and interacting through screens from the relative comfort of our homes. We developed hobbies to pass the time. Our relationships changed, for the better and also for the worse. Ultimately, everyone desperately looked toward a final return to normal, but with the semi-normal return that came, we were strikingly confronted with how much had changed within the world and within ourselves. With so much change, a return to pre-pandemic existence seems impossible. What one did then is not the same as what one does now, and, by extension, our possibilities for individual meaning-making in the world are not the same as our previous ones. Unable to authentically recreate past forms of meaningful doing and acting in the world as they used to exist, the attempt to do so in our quasi-post-COVID life becomes pervaded with a sense of meaninglessness. Going to work a specific job because that is what one used to do is no longer a sufficient justification for working it now, especially since, with so many people quitting their jobs or taking untraditional work trajectories, the structure of a working life has substantially, perhaps even normatively, changed. Unless that work continues to generate meaningful fulfillment, reenacting old ways of performing one’s daily life can produce a diffuse sense of indifference or boredom. In The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics , 20th century philosopher Martin Heidegger describes the boredom resulting from a confrontation with a sense of meaninglessness in our actions and routines as the phenomenon of “profound boredom.” Heidegger argues that in profound boredom, we are exposed to the structures of our existence and, through that exposure, can newly discover meaningful ways to project ourselves into the world. In this paper, I will investigate the extent to which Heidegger’s profound boredom is reflective of the form of boredom playing out in contemporary society and how his solution might offer a productive remedy. In order to do this, I will reference T.S Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” a poem which copes with widespread disillusionment in modern society following the devastation of World War I and the increased technological advancement in the Second Industrial Revolution. Examining both Eliot’s and Heidegger’s representations of boredom, I will demonstrate (1) how boredom can take on existential proportions, (2) how globally disruptive experiences can instantiate this boredom, and (3) how this boredom may be resolved by acknowledging our own facticity and our own freedom to choose how we want to act within our world by meaningfully repeating past possibilities of doing and acting. Comportment, Dasein, and The One According to Heidegger, all individuals have a particular style or way of interacting with the features of the world. This style, which Heidegger terms comportment, is structured by an individual’s goals and projects. In short, what they find meaningful. For instance, entertaining the ultimate goal of becoming a philosopher, I am oriented and disposed towards the world accordingly: I choose to undertake an undergraduate major in philosophy, I dedicate myself to my philosophy courses, and I choose to attend graduate school all for the sake of this goal. As I do so, I develop a particular manner of comporting myself toward (i.e., a particular way of acting in) the world. This comportment, while it pertains uniquely to each individual, is superimposed upon the individual’s “Dasein”. According to Heidegger, human beings are a particular type of entity which he terms “Dasein” – it can be loosely translated from German to mean “being-there”. Dasein interacts with the features of the world to advance its own particular goals and projects which illuminate a certain “style” or way in which Dasein approaches the world. As Heidegger describes, Dasein performs its actions and activities (i.e., its being) according to this particular style or comportment. Reciprocally, Dasein’s actions and activities reflect the comportment through which it approaches them. For example, if I entertain the ultimate goal of becoming a philosopher, I comport myself and am disposed toward the world accordingly: I choose to major in philosophy, I dedicate myself to my philosophy courses, and I choose to attend graduate school all for the sake of this goal. In pursuing certain projects and goals, I develop a particular manner of comporting myself toward (i.e., a particular way of acting in) the world. Additionally, the way that I act and do things (my comportment) both reflects and constitutes my understanding of myself. As I perform the actions that reflect the goal of becoming a philosopher, they also inform and constitute how I understand myself to “be” or act within the world as this particular individual which finds such and such projects meaningful. Thus, by attending my philosophy classes, I reinforce my understanding of myself as someone who loves philosophy and aims to become a philosopher. Of course, I can do things that would seemingly be “out of character” or at odds with my regular comportment, but in designating such an instance as “out of character,” I directly make reference to a contradiction between how I understand myself to act and a particular action or instance. Thus, to use Heideggerian terminology, as Dasein performs its being according to a particular comportment, it relates that comportment to the understanding of itself as itself, so that the mode in which it enacts its being is synchronized with how it understands itself to be. While, being in the world according to a particular comportment, I do, act, and choose things that reflect a particular understanding of myself, what I do, how I act, and what I choose is invariably subject to what is available to me within my world. Just as I could not build a house without the tools to do so, I could not pursue a career in philosophy if philosophy were not an established (or at least an existent) field of study. Accordingly, Dasein’s involvement in the world is structured by the features and beings present and accessible to it within that world. Dasein’s being in the world is also a ‘being-with’ others. Being-with becomes especially apparent in the manners in which Dasein interacts with objects and other features of the world through historical and culturally contingent social norms. For Heidegger, these conventions are exemplified through “what one does.” For example, one shakes hands when meeting a new person, one places one’s napkin on one’s lap at the table prior to beginning a meal, one drinks with a glass and eats with forks, knives, and spoons. While “one” does not designate any one particular individual, it designates an abstract collection of us (in which we are all included) that Heidegger terms the “They”. Insofar as I do as “one” does, I participate in the “They”, so that my actions reflect the larger social conventions of my community rather than what is meaningful and particular to me. By adopting these social conventions and rooting the “meaningfulness” of my actions within a contingent social order, I simultaneously flee the responsibility and accountability for my actions (as things which “I” rather than “They” elect to pursue) and relinquish my inherent freedom to pursue actions that are meaningful to me. Still, doing and knowing what one does fundamentally configures my “everyday” being-in-the-world (i.e., the way I act and relate to the world). As Mark Wrathall writes in How To Read Heidegger , “in the first instance and most of the time, we relate to others in the mode of ‘the one,’ which means that we understand ourselves in terms of what one says about the way one should live, that is, in terms of what one ordinarily does in situations that confront us”. Therefore, Dasein’s everyday existence (i.e., the typical or common way in which it is, both in terms of what activities it enacts and how) is, to some extent, immediately structured by what one does. For example, I go to the grocery store or the farmers market because that is what one does to purchase food in my community. At the grocery store, I acquire ham and other meats at the deli because that is what one does. My decision to go to the grocery store and my entire experience within that grocery store is organized by what one does. And this same structure applies to most of Dasein’s other everyday activities. Because Dasein’s “everydayness” is, to some extent, fundamentally structured by what one does, Dasein is never entirely inextricable from the “They.” Still, it is important to reiterate that “what one does” is not intrinsically meaningful in and of itself but a way of acting that reflects our socio-historically contingent norms and conventions. During our pre-pandemic existence, departing to work or school, completing errands outside of the home, and visiting and engaging with others in physically close proximity was simply what one did and, as such, characterized our “everyday” existence. In enacting these doings and activities of “what one did,” we became oriented toward and learned to relate to the world in terms of the pre-pandemic “one.” Consequently, the pre-pandemic understanding of what one did formed part of our self-understanding, or understanding of our everyday they-selves which, in turn, undergirded those particular selves we claimed to be or exist as. For example, a college student understands his everyday they-“self” as a college student (at least partially) in terms of what one does in college. In the pre-pandemic world, this meant attending classes within a classroom, studying in a library alone or amongst friends, securing internships, discovering a potential career path, perhaps occasionally partying. As he performs these things, he relates them back to his self-understanding as a “college student.” During the seemingly interminable months of quarantine, daily life underwent a fundamental transformation. Everyone, to some extent, conducted their social, academic, and work lives on various virtual platforms. Thus, what one did and how one worked altered drastically during quarantine. For our anonymous college student, virtual schooling and socializing became integrated into his everyday existence, and thus formed part of his everyday “self,” or how he acted and understood himself to be as a college student. Now, emerging out of quarantine with our quarantine beards and unshaven legs, we are tasked with what feels like the Herculean feat of “returning-to-normal” pre-pandemic life and what one did in that life. And yet, because we established a new normal and thus a new definition of what one does during quarantine, that “return” implies reproducing a performance or rehearsal of oneness that is, after such significant change since the onset of the pandemic, no longer applicable or even existent. As a result, the prevailing expectation of a return to normalcy confronts us with a conflict of “oneness” in which what one did and how one understood oneself to be as a college student, as a software engineer, doctor, or librarian is no longer what one does or how one understands oneself to be as such in our current world. In other words, the pre-pandemic “one” no longer determines our performance of “oneness.” However, here we are confronted with another problem: what does one do now? And by extension, how does one even understand oneself to be in the world? Is our college student still a college student within the pre-pandemic social definition and understanding of the term after spending close to a year in a virtual social and academic environment? Does he even understand himself to be the same college student that he once was before the pandemic? If not, is he left without anything to refer to in order to devise meaning and intelligibility from the strange, anomalous current life-experiences he must undergo? And, what if his goals and projects changed during quarantine? Must he now rehearse, along with all of us, what one did in the pre-pandemic life with those same goals and projects despite their inability to cohere with his current way of relating to the world? What are the implications of this rehearsal of pre-pandemic one-ness for Dasein who, after so much time understanding itself, relating to the world, and, as it were, devising meaning of its existence through the social conventions and modes of being associated with quarantine, must now adopt a performance of one-ness that is no longer meaningful to it; that no longer reflects how it understands itself to “be?” Published in 1922, six years after World War I and approximately fifty years after the onset of the Second Industrial Revolution, T.S Eliot’s modernist poem “The Waste Land” appears to cope directly with the implications of meaninglessly rehearsing “what one did.” In Part II of the poem, A Game of Chess , a man and woman are having a disjointed conversation. The woman anxiously exclaims “What shall we do? What shall we ever do?” to which the man responds cryptically: “ The hot water at ten. And if it rains, a closed car at four. And we shall play a game of chess, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.” In asking what they will do, the woman expresses an existential concern for meaningful, fulfilling “doing” or action. The man, however, suggests that no such doing is possible and that they are instead condemned to a life of listlessly repeating old routines until death or some other existential “knock upon the door” delivers them from it. The poem famously purports to diagnose the catastrophic ills and pains of modern society in the post-war period. With the unprecedented violence of World War I and the increased mechanization of modern society following the Second Industrial Revolution, the profound and diffuse listlessness that Eliot describes appears to be symptomatic of the failure of traditional values and certainties such as religion, family life, and canonical forms of art and literature to infuse human life with meaning in this new context. As the poem describes, religion, challenged by the immense loss of human life and the increase of sexual promiscuity in the war, could not save, family and domestic life could offer no sanctuary, and traditional art forms could no longer accurately depict or reflect human life. While their failure to create meaning implies a kind of fracturing between a pre-war and post-war society in which the modern individual now found itself situated, this failure also discloses the fundamental contingency of socio-cultural norms, values, and traditions. If these values and certainties were inherently meaningful in and of themselves, they would continue to be meaningful irrespective of the contexts and conditions in which they were applied. However, because these values and certainties somehow seemed to lose their meaning for those subjects in the poem and the larger modern society confronted with a sense of meaninglessness and boredom in daily life, they were forced to recognize that their presumed meaningfulness was a self-contrived illusion, or, perhaps, ask themselves “what is wrong with me that these things have lost their meaning?”. Since these traditional values and certainties structured how one (to an extent) related to the world, and by extension, what one did, their failure to create meaning likely produced a sense of boredom in those daily routines which revolved around “oneness” (which might have included, going to church, honoring traditional marriage, relationship, family, or other such dynamics in the domestic sphere, reading Shakespeare, etc.) and configured the “everyday” self. Because what became boring and meaningless was what one did, life was not boring to Dasein as this or that particular individual, but to Dasein as “one-self,” or the everyday self that acts, understands itself, and relates itself to the world in terms of the “One” and what one does. While the “one-self” may not be the particular, subjective self, because it informs, at least in part, how that particular self acts, the boredom encountered through the meaninglessness of Dasein’s everydayness problematizes how Dasein projects both its particular “self” and its they-“self” (as two, essential prongs of one and the same self) into the world. This is distinct from other forms of boredom (such as boredom with a specific object, social setting, event, etc.) in that it overwhelms Dasein’s every action in the world. As such, it can be understood within Heidegger’s notion of “attunement.” Attunement describes a state of mind that disposes us toward the world in a particular way. In order to explain this notion, consider the following hypothetical situation: while sitting in my room, I suddenly hear sirens blaring, people shouting and running, and see smoke leaking out from under my door. I become wholly overwhelmed with fear and alertness, leading me to scour the room for the closest exit or something with which to extinguish the imminent flames. My fear has completely altered the landscape of my environment so that certain objects become alternatively relevant and irrelevant to me depending on how they could be used. The pencil, for example, becomes irrelevant to me while a blanket by my bedside and an open window are relevant insofar as they might serve me in extinguishing the fire or escaping the room. As a result, my fear, as well as any other type of attunement, discloses that I must accept the circumstances of my world as they are revealed to me and what actions may be possible within those circumstances. While I submit myself to these circumstances, they also disclose opportunities for action or ways of utilizing certain objects that “matter” to me, or are significant to me to the extent that they help me extinguish the fire or escape the room. As a result, attunement constitutes how I am disposed toward the world and reveals my disclosive submission to that world. Like fear, profound boredom is a type of attunement in that it reveals our “disclosive submission [to the world], out of which we can encounter something that matters to us.” According to Heidegger, the confrontation with meaninglessness in Dasein’s everyday self can instantiate profound boredom (in which it is “boring for one”). In and through this confrontation Dasein is left “pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door” and is attuned to the world through profound boredom. Let us explore what this means through Jonathan Caballero, a 27 year old software developer who decided to join millions of Americans in quitting their traditional, pre-pandemic jobs. As a software developer, we can assume that in his pre-pandemic office space, Caballero may have perceived chairs, computers, conference rooms, telephones, among other things. He also had access to the different meanings implicit in these objects and the setting as a whole; the chairs, in the context of the office, may be for clients or co-workers to sit in, the computers to conduct programming with, respond to emails, type, etc, the telephone to communicate with, the conference rooms to host important office or client meetings, etc. In addition, we can assume, insofar as Caballero worked in this office in the pre-pandemic era, he comported himself in a particular way toward this office; a comportment that was structured by and made manifest a certain self which he (1) understood himself to be and, thus, (2) projected into the world. Thus, he was invested in the office space and its equipmental totality (i.e., the telephone, the computer, the conference room) as this particular self and for the sake of the projects, interests, and passions that are, to some extent, prescribed by the “one” but also reflect his own particularity as an individual. Each object, then, is meaningful to him through what they make possible toward advancing his multiple projects as his understood self which he understands himself to be. The telephone may be meaningful as a vehicle through which Caballero secures clients who may then elect to employ his services and, in doing so, secure the promise of a paycheck, and thus, fulfill his project of acquiring financial stability, the computer may be meaningful as the site of his work-activity in which he practices and improves his craft toward fulfilling his additional project of being an exceptional software programmer, and so forth. Additionally, the way in which Caballero came into contact with these objects, and by extension, the meaningful possibilities they imply, was in a nine-to-five, traditional working time-frame and environment. In other words, Caballero’s work, for which he was paid, did not simply consist of interacting with a certain kind of equipmental totality toward doing the work (in this case, software programming), but, because that work existed in a larger socio-cultural working structure, consisted of physically going to an office and being in that office space for a set period of time. Why? Because that is what one did as a member of certain sectors of the American labor force. One went to work, one spent time at a specified working location, and one returned home after the work day. Therefore, while his multiple projects (such as securing financial stability and being an exceptional software programmer) were made possible by the fact that those objects in his setting were used, and thus, could be used by one toward advancing these projects, these projects were also made possible by what one did, or more specifically, how one (within this particular sector of the American labor force) worked. Consequently, while they were made possible by how one worked, insofar as Caballero continued to work in terms of this oneness, his projects were also constrained to it. Caballero, then, projected himself meaningfully (to the extent that these projects are meaningful to him as that particular self which he understands himself to be) into the office space in terms of how one worked. This was his “everyday self.” Inevitably, during quarantine, Caballero began working virtually along with most other Americans. For him, this may have meant working from home, zooming into meetings fresh out of bed and still in his pajama pants, and spending what would have been his daily forty-five minute commute to and from the office by instead jumping in his pool and discovering new hobbies and interests. Assuming that the majority of his social community underwent a similar, if not identical, experience, not only did what he did change, but also what one did changed. Thus, one began to act in and relate to the world in a new way, ultimately leading each of us to understand ourselves in terms of this new, quarantine-generated way of being and relating to the world. Being a software engineer, or a college student, no longer implied physically occupying a particular location in physical proximity with others, but implied instead working, communicating, and socializing remotely. Returning to the pre-pandemic work life in this context, Caballero is tossed suddenly back into performing certain features of what one did, such as commuting to work, leaving the comfort of the home, and engaging with people face to face. His routine is now at odds with what he did and, by extension, what one did during the quarantine months. Because quarantine introduced a new performance of oneness and, thus, a new way of relating to the world, how Caballero presently understands himself to be, not simply as a software engineer but as a member of the socio-cultural world in which he exists, conflicts with the daily routines, or performance of everydayness, imposed upon him through the collective return to regular, pre-pandemic work life. Thus, these new routines, because they do not reflect how he understands himself (both as that particular self and as the one-self- which undergirds and gives rise to his particular self) are no longer meaningful to him. In addition, while this collective return strives toward pre-pandemic normalcy, this return breaks down as remnants of the pandemic continue to structure everyday existence. His current routines, while similar to pre-pandemic work life, ultimately fail to mean to him as such because they are, in a literal sense, not the exact same. In sum, then, Caballero cannot fully relate to the re-introduction of old, pre-pandemic routines into his daily life, and the performance of oneness they imply, because (1) what one does currently in these same routines is still somewhat different from what one once did, (2) quarantine changed his community’s performance of oneness, and thus, how he relates to the world in general, and (3) he understands himself, both as a particular self and as member of socio-cultural world in which he exists, differently than he did before the pandemic. Unable to relate to his routines as he once did, they fail to create meaning for him in the way that they had in the past, and he finds himself rehearsing a set of routines and performances that are meaningless to him (i.e. do not mean to him as in the way that they once did). Thus, he may exclaim to himself, staring at his computer in his old office space with his mask slipping beneath his nose, “What shall I do? What shall I ever do?” To which the One replies, “a lunch break at 12:00, a commute home at 4:00, and we shall try to know each other through our masks, pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.” Like Eliot’s speakers, a profound boredom may pervade his entire approach to his office setting, his social life, and his entire rehearsal of a one-ness that no longer corresponds to his particular interests, goals, and passions as a particular self or his self-understanding within the socio-cultural framework in which he exists. Answering the phone, commuting to work, sitting in an office, these actions no longer mean to him as they once did. He feels profoundly bored. And, in feeling profoundly bored, he is attuned to his equipmental totality (i.e., the objects that are contained within his environment) and the settings in which they occur in terms of this boredom. However, because Caballero is bored with the rehearsal of a past one-ness and a past version of himself implicit in and made possible by this one-ness, his boredom extends beyond the confines of the office. Going to lunch with friends, returning home, cooking his dinner, he is progressing listlessly through the motions of old routines. While working from home may have been a situation particular to Caballero and his social community, most Americans, to some extent, experienced fundamental changes in their routines and daily life during the quarantine periods in the peak of the pandemic. Thus, the phenomenon of profound boredom that I address in this paper, while it varies widely in its causes for each individual, remains a seemingly wide-spread experience in our “return-to-normal” life. As Heidegger writes, in profound boredom “we are not merely relieved of our everyday personality, but elevated beyond the particular situation in each case and beyond the specific beings surrounding us there. The whole situation and we ourselves as this particular subject are thereby indifferent... Indeed this boredom does not even let it get to the point where such things are of any particular worth to us. Instead it makes everything equally great and equally little worth.” “Being relieved of our everyday personality” here means no longer going about our lives as either one does, or as the particular self (which is inevitably, to some extent, structured by “oneness”) that, through its comportment, Dasein understands. For example, instead of attentively picking up phone calls, quickly responding to emails, and meticulously conducting his work (and thus meaningfully re-enacting “how one worked” toward the realization of some particular project as that particular self), Caballero, in this boredom, is detached from and indifferent to the office environment, what one would do, and what he once did (as his past, pre-pandemic self) in that particular environment. In other words, he is indifferent to how objects in that environment may serve the realization of the projects that are meaningful to him. However, he is not only indifferent to what one does, but what one does becomes indifferent to him. The equipmental totality of his world and the beings included in that world (that designate, through “how one worked,” how that totality might or should be utilized) no longer offer him any possibility of acting out his project, which has become meaningless; they “refuse” him meaning. As Heidegger writes: There is a telling refusal on the part of beings for a Dasein that… in the midst of these beings as a whole comports itself toward them (toward them, toward those beings as a whole and their now telling refusal) and must comport itself toward them, if it is indeed to be what it is. Dasein thus finds itself delivered over to the being's telling refusal of themselves as a whole. As Dasein, Caballero inevitably comports himself toward the world as the particular self which he understands himself to be. However, because this “self” has fallen flat, or is no longer meaningful to him, he comports toward a world without meaning or possibilities in that comportment. Therefore, beings as a whole which once created and gave rise to new meaningful possibilities for him as that self, now “refuse” him those meaningful possibilities. This “telling refusal” by beings as a whole constitutes the first essential, structural moment of profound boredom: being-left-empty, being without meaning to be discovered in beings as whole. However, in telling refusingly, beings as a whole also highlight the possibilities for meaning-making that Dasein has exploited and are no longer meaningful to it. Sitting in his office or his home, his computer, his clients, his pens, his telephone, his friends, and his dinner table all refuse Caballero meaning as objects and beings through which he can act out his “self-hood.” In his profound boredom, the interaction with these beings and objects signals to him that they cannot be employed toward meaningful action because they imply a commingled performance of one-ness and a particular “self-hood” that are not meaningful to him. For example, his dinner table is no longer meaningful for him as something which one now, in our quasi-post-pandemic world, uses again (and thus makes possible) to dine amongst friends, but an object, which, in his profound boredom, points to his incapacity for meaning-making by continuing to exploit the possibility of “how one now uses” a dining table. Because using the dining table as such involves rehearsing a performance of pre-pandemic oneness that no longer corresponds with how Caballero understands himself (perhaps because he has since become uncomfortable with hosting dinner parties or having people over in general), his interactions with the dining table disclose (or “point to”) his inability to find meaning by continuing to exploit the possibilities involved in what one did before the pandemic. In revealing his exploited possibilities (i.e. the doing as both one and he once did) “ .. .there occurs the dawning of the possibilities that Dasein could have, but which are left unexploited precisely in this “it is boring for one,” and as unexploited, leaves us in the “lurch”. In other words, confronted with the meaninglessness of his own rehearsal of what one used to do before the pandemic (and consequently, the rehearsal of his particular, pre-pandemic self which understood itself in terms of a pre-pandemic oneness) and the possibilities for acting within that oneness, he becomes aware of other unexploited possibilities for acting. As a result, the telling refusal of possibilities carries, by association, a telling announcement of the possibilities he has not yet exploited. This telling announcement does not point to any one unexploited possibility for meaning-making, but rather points (arbitrarily) to the fact that there are possibilities that he has not yet explored. However, because these possibilities are left unexplored in Caballero's total and complete boredom with the world in general, he does not take up meaningful action and is thus, as Heidegger writes, “left in the lurch” or entrapped in a kind of limbo of inaction. This “being-left-in-lurch” or “being-in-limbo” in which Caballero is confronted with but does not act upon unexplored possibilities comprises the second structural moment of profound boredom: because “being-left-in-limbo” precludes a kind of meaningful moving forwards, it has a certain temporal feeling. When beings and the possibilities they create for meaning-making (i.e., a doctor makes possible the use of a scalpel as a medical tool, and thus, a meaningful tool for particular purposes) refuse themselves to Caballero, they refuse themselves as a whole: they refuse themselves in every respect, or in every respect, retrospect, and prospect, such that every past possibility that he exploited becomes meaningless to him as the version of his “self” he enacts has fallen flat. Likewise, any future, to-be-exploited possibility toward projecting that version of himself is also meaningless to him. But to whom do these possibilities refuse themselves? Not to Caballero as Caballero the particular, subjective individual, but to Cabellero as that self which acted in and related to the world in terms of a pre-pandemic one. As such, it is not boring for Caballero as the individual person, but boring for him as “One” or insofar as he continues to rehearse a kind of oneness that is no longer meaningful to him. But in the context of his own boredom with that pre-pandemic self that causes his possibilities as that self to recede, that pre-pandemic-self does not lose its determinacy, “but rather the reverse, for this peculiar impoverishment which sets in with respect to ourselves in this ‘it is boring for one’ first brings the self in all its to nakedness to itself as the self that is there and has taken over the being-there of Dasein. For what purpose? To be that Dasein”. In other words, in his profound boredom, as the meaningful possibilities for acting are refused to him as a pre-pandemic-self, he becomes aware of this refusal of the pre-pandemic self, and consequently, becomes aware of the self itself, or the self which he has chosen to project over his existence (i.e., “being-there” or Dasein) in the world. In becoming aware of that pre-pandemic self, he becomes aware of (1) the fact that he has chosen to be or act as that self, (2) rehearsing what one does or what one did is not inherently meaningful, and (3) that, as a result, in his existence as Dasein he has the possibility to choose other selves that do not adhere to the “one.” For example, it is possible for him to take advantage of new socio-cultural possibilities that are becoming available such as: the emergence of partially or fully virtual employment, the shift toward smaller in-person social circles, and the new, national emphasis on self-care and mental wellbeing. Thus, his boredom discloses to him that he must accept the circumstances of his world as they are revealed to him and what actions may be possible within those circumstances. The circumstances, and by extension, the world itself, thereby determines how he can act. Since he must accept the world’s determinations as to how he can act, he necessarily submits himself to the world. Still, this submission is not entirely passive. Instead, because his boredom reveals that he is capable of enacting a self (in this case, his pre-pandemic self), he becomes consequently aware of the possibility of enacting other selves and other ways of performing “oneness” that are gradually being made possible to him and to all of us in general. As a result, his boredom reveals the originary capacity of Dasein to make-possible other selves and the fact that he can choose to make-possible other selves that are meaningful to him. Confronted with the immensity of Dasein’s capacity to make-possible, without any definite direction as to what self or possibility he should enact, he is “held-in-limbo.” The phenomenon of “being-held-in-limbo” also involves a unique form of temporality. Refused any meaning by rehearsing the pre-pandemic one-self by beings as a whole, Caballero is refused meaning in every respect, retrospect, and prospect, or in the past, present, and future. In this way, beings-as-a-whole are no longer open to him along a temporal horizon, and the possibilities that they present along this horizon are closed off to him as him self because he is no longer interested in them as future possibilities for meaning-making nor finds his past actions and exploited possibilities meaningful. But, if beings as a whole refuse themselves in terms of a temporal horizon, such that Caballero cannot move forward meaningfully in time alongside them (or, in recollecting, conceive of past instances of action as meaningful to him), then they also make manifest those possibilities which he has not yet exploited in terms of a temporal horizon. The unexploited possibilities are things which he may have done in the past (retrospect) or can do in the future (prospect). Confronted with Dasein’s capacity for making-possible in the past and future, he is not only held-in-limbo at the immensity of the unexploited possibilities available to him, but entranced in time insofar as these possibilities remain unexploited. For example, thinking back to his past experiences in the office or in his training to become a software developer, he may discern other opportunities that he did not take up such as, perhaps, working in a satellite location in New York City or South America, working at a different corporation, or becoming a doctor, engineer, or astronaut,. Conversely, thinking toward his future, he may discern possibilities that are available to him in the here and now. And yet, insofar as he does not take up these possibilities, he remains entranced in time such that he remains indifferent to his past, present, and future and cannot move meaningfully forwards or backwards in time. He breaks this entrancement and transcends his boredom by experiencing “the moment of vision.” As Heidegger writes in The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics , “the moment of vision is neither chosen as such nor reflected upon and known. It manifests itself to us as that which properly makes possible, that which is thereby intimated as such only in being entranced in the direction of the temporal horizon and from there, intimated as what could and ought to be given to be free in Dasein’s proper essence as that which makes it most intrinsically possible, yet now in the entrancement of Dasein is not thus given.” The moment of vision is not experienced as a dramatic, transcendental instance, but as a kind of realization of the fundamental, originary properties of Dasein (i.e., “what properly makes Dasein possible”). As a being-there which comports itself understandingly toward that being, Dasein’s capability to enact a self and comport itself as that self in the actions and choices it undertakes is fundamental to its existence as Dasein. Thus, the moment of vision involves a “resolute disclosure of Dasein to itself,” or an awareness of Dasein’s own freedom to choose which self it wants to enact and then enacting that self that it chooses. Because Dasein’s self-enactment occurs along a temporal horizon (i.e., Dasein understands itself to be its “self” through past actions and choices taken as that self, enacts that self in the present, and projects that self in the future), its entrancement in time during profound boredom intimates, in its being refused meaningful action and doing in every retrospect, respect, and prospect, Dasein’s capacity to engage in meaningful action and doing within a temporal horizon. Thus, the instance in which Caballero resolutely discloses his own freedom to choose a self he wants to enact to himself, he experiences a kind of “moment of vision.” Soon after returning to his regular pre-pandemic job, Caballero quit and started looking for jobs with better remote work options. Now, we can assume that Caballero has time to jump in his pool in-between meetings and pursue those hobbies and interests that were otherwise impossible with his daily, pre-pandemic commute. By quitting his job and choosing to explore an alternate possibility of post-pandemic one-ness that is meaningful to him (in that this possibility enables him to engage with aspects of his life that became important to him during the pandemic), Caballero has exercised his essential freedom as Dasein and altered his comportment toward the world in a way that enables him to engage in meaningful doing and action in every retrospect (i.e., his past experiences have given way to his new self-enactment and are thus meaningful to him) respect (i.e., his current choices and actions now harmonize with what is meaningful to him), and prospect (i.e., his future choices will be meaningful to him insofar as he continues to enact that self which enables him to realize those projects which are meaningful to him). In sum, by altering his comportment toward the world, Caballero enacts a new self within that world, one that authentically (insofar as this new comportment reflects what is meaningful to him) incorporates and utilizes “oneness” toward realizing and fulfilling himself meaningfully. Importantly, this transformation in how he comports himself toward the world involves a meaningful repetition of “what one did.” While Caballero, as a member of a particular socio-cultural framework which requires some degree of financial stability in order to continue participating within that same socio-cultural framework, continues to work, he does so in a way that enables him to pursue his other interests and passions. Thus, he repeats or rehearses oneness (i.e., the socio-cultural emphasis on financial stability) in a way that is meaningful to him as a particular self. Reciprocally, how he comports himself toward the world (i.e., rehearses oneness) as that particular self manifests that which is meaningful to him (i.e., those projects, interests, and passions that comprise his “for-the-sake-of-which”) as that self. While T.S. Eliot and Heidegger were distinct writers and thinkers, they both seem to proffer the meaningful repetition of one-ness as a solution to profound boredom. In Eliot’s work, his meaningful repetition of “oneness” is exemplified by the structural fragmentation within his poem “The Waste Land . ” Throughout the poem, Eliot includes miscellaneous fragments of Dante, Shakespeare, Greek myths, as well as ancient languages such as Sanskirt. On a superficial level, these fragments produce a sense of disorientation and confusion within the reader who must now assemble these fragments toward a cohesive interpretation of the poem. While the reader’s sense of disorientation parallels modern society’s confrontation with meaninglessness and subsequent inability to ground existence in meaningful forms of doing and action in post World War I society, the fragments also illustrate how aspects of past, traditional pieces of literature can be assembled or “repeated” in a way that allows them to meaningfully reflect the modern experience. In the final section of the poem “What The Thunder Said,” Eliot begins by describing an apocalyptic scene in which “there is no water but only rock” and Jerusalem, Athens, Alexandria, Vienna, London, all descend into “unreality.” Here, Eliot describes the literal and spiritual devastation of Western civilization. The downfall of Jerusalem, Athens, and Alexandria all represent the inability of Ancient Western religion, art, literature, and history to salvage modern society from its ruinous apocalypse of meaningful action and doing by grounding that doing and action in the traditional values and certainties that characterize them. Instead, the downfall of London and Vienna, describes the devastation of a modern society unable to meaningfully ground itself in its Western socio-historical traditions and values. Thus, London, Vienna, Alexandria, Athens, and Alexandria, become “unreal;” they no longer possess or provide a meaningful reference point for real modern life to guide itself. Following this apocalyptic scene, Eliot writes at the end of the poem: I sat upon the shore Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order? London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam uti chelidon—O swallow swallow Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih shantih shantih. Sitting upon the cusp of the poem’s conclusion and fishing for meaning within the “arid plains” of the apocalypse looming behind him and before him, Eliot attempts to reinvigorate fragments of canonical pieces of literature by “organizing his lands” or assembling them together in new ways. The line “ Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina ” is an allusion to Canto 26 of Dante’s “Purgatorio”, meaning “then he hid in the fire that refines them.” According to Sussex University Professor Cedric Watt’s explication of these last ten lines, “the ‘he’ is Arnaut Daniel, the medieval Provençal poet. He has just told Dante that he repents the sins of his past and looks forward to the heaven that he will eventually reach after suffering the purgatorial flames.” The following line “ Quando fiam uti chelidon ” from the anonymous Latin poem ''Pervigilium Veneris” means “when shall I be like the swallow.” In this poem, “the raped Philomela has undergone a healing metamorphosis into a songbird, making her complaints sound as joyous as a song. The next line, “O swallow swallow,” refers to Alfred Tennyson’s lyric in “The Princess” in which “a swallow is flying south to warm lands, away from the earthbound poet.” Finally, “ Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie ,” a line from Nerval’s ‘El Desdichado’, meaning “The Unfortunate or Disinherited Man,” a French poem with a Spanish title, means “The Prince of Aquitaine at the ruined tower.” According to Watts, “the gist of the poem is: ‘I’ve been through hell, but I’ve survived to tell the tale, I’ve known loss and grief, but I’ve had my dreams and can make songs of my experiences.” Independently, each of these lines refer back to larger poetic works, and thus refer back to the traditional literary structures, styles, and modes of human experience embedded in and advanced by these works. However, by separating these fragments from their larger poetic totality and compiling them together in a new structure, Eliot alienates them from the poetic works and traditional literary structures and meanings to which they pertain. By alienating them from their original works and compiling them together, Eliot also re-appropriates them in a creative way. Through this creative re-appropriation or repetition of these fragments, they ultimately produce a new narrative, one that neither of them originally pertained to or advanced. Essentially, this new narrative suggests that repentance or self-forgiveness will enable the grieving post-war civilization to transcend its own purgatorial limbo toward a kind of recuperation of meaningful doing and action in modern life. Because this narrative reflects and diagnoses the post-war human experience, Eliot’s creative repetition of past literary fragments enables him to meaningfully describe and reflect human life as it is, thus re-invigorating literature’s capacity to invoke human experience overall. As a result, the fragments “shore against his ruins,” or act as a buffer against his destruction as a poet in a dying artistic field and as a modern individual confronted with the meaninglessness of the traditional values and certainties implicit in socio-cultural norms. Eliot concludes the section ironically with “Why then Ile fit you, Hieronymo’s mad againe,” the subtitle of Thomas Kyd’s play The Spanish Tragedy meaning “why then I’ll fix it for you, Hieronymo’s mad again.” While the line acknowledges that his atypical poetic structure may induce readers to think him insane, Eliot’s “I’ll fix it for you” reaffirms us of his craftsmanship and ability to “fix” literature’s inability to capture and resolve modern society’s post-war sense of meaninglessness. The poem ends with the repetition of “shantih, shantih, shantih”, a Sanskrit word meaning peace or inner peace prayed at the end of the Upanishad in the Hindu religion. Pointing ambiguously toward Eastern modes of spirituality, Eliot leaves us to “fish” our own individual meaning out of his fragments. Because the poem incorporates a creative repetition of past canonical forms of literature toward developing a form that can meaningfully reflect the modern human experience, it attempts to restructure how “one” relates to and understands these canonical forms of literature. Instead of writings that can no longer invoke what it means to be human, Eliot’s fragmentation gives them a new applicability to the modern experience. Thus, Eliot’s creative repetition of how one related to canonical works makes those works newly meaningful to the post-war reader as a compilation of fragments, both within the poem (i.e., as resolving the poem’s central conflict) and as suggesting ways to transcend their own confrontation with meaningless and profound boredom in post-war society. Similarly, by creatively repeating and reassembling aspects of what one did in the pre-pandemic world with what one did during quarantine, we compile together a structure akin to Eliot’s fragmentation. Assembling these fragments of “oneness” in a new montage that authentically expresses how one, and how we each individually, relate to the world in the context of enormous crises, anxiety, and change, we can enact new possibilities of being and acting that are meaningful to us and, thus, shore against our own ruinous experiences with profound boredom and meaninglessness. While Heidegger’s “moment of vision” describes the instance we are disclosed to our own freedom to choose which selves we want to enact, Eliot’s fragmentation demonstrates how we can enact that self through meaningful repetitions of our oneness. While Caballero experienced a meaninglessness rehearsal of oneness in his return to the pre-pandemic work-life structure because it invoked a self that he no longer felt or understood himself to be, by quitting his job to pursue remote working options, he creatively assembles a performance of pre-pandemic one-ness (in that he continues to work) with a performance of quarantine one-ness (in that he begins to work virtually and make time for his other interests and passions) that reflects how he understands himself to “be” in the world. As such, the creative repetition of past possibilities seems to offer a productive solution to the post-pandemic phenomenon of profound boredom. As we each reevaluate our current rehearsal of oneness, quit our jobs, change our career or academic tracks, tighten our in-person social circles, restructure our relationships, and travel the world in pursuit of new possibilities for meaningful doing and action, we create new ways of understanding ourselves and relating to the world in general. Perhaps, a new performance of one-ness may be gradually unfolding before us. References Heidegger, Martin, and Edward Robinson. “Chapter 4, The They.” Essay. In Being and Time , translated by John Macquarrie, 149–68. Harper Perennial, n.d. Heidegger, Martin, William McNeill, and Nicholas Walker. Essay. In The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics: World, Finitude, Solitude , 136–52. Bloomington, Indianapolis, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995. Wrathall, Mark A. “Everydayness and The One.” Essay. In How to Read Heidegger , 47–70. New York, NY: W. W. Norton, 2006. Chapters 5-6 Eliot, T. S. “The Waste Land.” Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation. Accessed February 12, 2022. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47311/the-waste-land . Watts, Cedric. “The Last Ten and A Half Lines of the Waste Land.” The Last Ten and a Half Lines of the Wasteland . Poets.org.Academy of American Poets, May 20, 2004. https://poets.org/text/brief-guide-modernism . Hsu, Andrea. “As the Pandemic Recedes, Millions of Workers Are Saying 'I Quit'.” NPR , NPR, 24 June 2021. Bruner, Raisa. “Why Young People Are Quitting Jobs-and Not Going Back.” Time, Time, 29 Oct. 2021. Fontinelle, Amy. “The Great Resignation.” Investopedia. Investopedia, May 5, 2022. https://www.investopedia.com/the-great-resignation-5199074 .