Philosophy Body Ethics: Moving Beyond Valid Consent Christine Chen In The AugenBlick, Not the Moment A Heideggerian Critique of Temporal Inauthenticity Lukas Bacho Non-self through time Anita Kukeli FEATURED SECTION The Captain and the DoctoR On the Enchantment of Modern Men George LeMieux The Influencer Issue The Link Between Commodification and Well-Being on Social Media Enya Willems HOW ARE YOU THE SAME PERSON AS WHEN YOU WERE TEN Favoring the Brain Criterion View over Animalist and Neo-Lockean Views Henry Moon Divisive Identities Exploring the Interplay of Personal and Social Identities Ella Neeka Sawhney Philosophy Archives Vol. IV | Issue II From Sex to Science: The Challenges and Complexity of Consent The Challenges and Complexity of Consent Matthew Grady Shoring Against Our Ruin An Investigation of Profound Boredom in our Return to Normal Life Virginia Moscetti Unwitting Wrongdoing The Case of Moral Ignorance Madeline Monge Vol. IV | Issue I The Necessity of Perspective A Nietzschean Critique of Historical Materialism and Political Meta-Narratives Oliver Hicks The Growing Incoherence of our higher values Aash Mukerji Can Pascal Convert the Libertine? An Analysis of the Evaluative Commitment Entailed by Pascal’s Wager Neti Linzer Authenticating Authenticity Authenticity as Commitment, Temporally Extended Agency, and Practical Identity Kimberly Ramos Vol. III | Issue II KIERKEGAARD'S ADVICE ON THE UNCERTAINTY OF DEATH: The 'right' way is the pathless way Margherita Pescarin Teotl vs. tao Comparing Tlamatinime and Taoist Thought Richard Wu Punishment Human Nature, Order, and Power Ezekiel Vergara Happening on "polished Society" Towards a Theory of Progress and Corruption Alexa Stanger More than just a thought crime? A Retributivist View of Hate Crime Legislation Travis Harper Khadi Capitalism Gandhian Neoliberalism and the Making of Modern India Ria Modak Cause, causation, and multiplicity A Critique of E. H. Carr's "Causation in History" Kyu-hyun Jo Civil Disobedience and Desert theory of punishment Vance Kelley Tribes and tribulations Character as Property in Survivor Jasmine Bacchus Vol. III | Issue I A GRAVITY MODEL OF CIVIC DEVIANCE Justice, Natural Duties, and Reparative Responsibilities Woojin Lim CAN YOU RATIONALLY DISAGREE WITH A PREDICTION MODEL? Nick Whitaker The PANACEA PROBLEM Indifference, Servility, and Kantian Beneficence Benjamin Eneman Vol. II | Issue II Respect for the Smallest of Creatures An Analysis of Human Respect for and Protection of Insects Grace Engelman The Moral Futility of Contempt A Response to Macalester Bell’s Hard Feelings in the Era of Trump Jessica Li In Favor of Entrenchment Justifying Geoengineering Research in Democratic Systems Samantha M. Koreman Vol. II | Issue I Realism, Perspective, and the Act of Looking A Comparison of Chinese Cinematic Representations of the Second Sino-Japanese War Isaac Leong The Duty to use drones In Cases of National Self-Defense Lina Dayem Vol. I | Issue II Moral Manipulation A Kantian Take on Advertising and Campaigning Sylvia Gunn Health/Disease Distinction Normative Uses Margot S. Witte Statelessness A Contradiction in International Law with Asymmetrical Regional Solutions Samantha Altschuler Vol. I | Issue I Transcendental Self Reconceptualizing the Idea of the Self within Western Philosophy: The Existence-Reason Binary and the Nonrational Transcendental Self Jennifer Kim A More Perfect Union Inclusive Norms and the Future of Liberal Unity Benjamin Seymour

Anna Savo-Matthews The Unchurching of Black Lives Matter: The Evolving Role of Faith in the Fight for Racial Justice Anna Savo-Matthews The Black church was at the center of the Civil Rights Movement in the 1950s and 1960s. In the early 1990s, American society began a trend in secularization, whereby many Americans began to identify less with religious institutions. This societal shift, coupled with the rise of social media, has had a marked impact on racial justice movements. To illustrate how secularization has affected protest, this work compares the Civil Rights Movement with Black Lives Matter and specifically examines the decline of the Black church’s organizational capacity in Jacksonville, Florida. Faith has long been closely intertwined with racial justice movements. Scholars of Black liberation theology believe that Jesus is the God of the oppressed, someone who stands with those struggling for freedom. This religious movement was born from civil-rights activism of the 1960s, and it continues to inspire activists to this day (1). Furthermore, the Civil Rights Movement’s close relationship with the Black church has been well documented, as the church provided organizational support that was crucial for the movement’s success (2). When comparing the Civil Rights Movement to more recent racial justice movements, more specifically the Black Lives Matter protests during the summer of 2020, the Black church has had a less prominent role in organizing and mobilizing protestors. However, spirituality still had a great influence over the content of the protests, as protesters often draw from a greater plurality of religious inspiration than the Civil Rights Movement did (3). In line with findings on a national scale, local reporting has found that spiritual rituals were incorporated into the Black Lives Matter protests in Jacksonville. Prayer, vigils, and altars were incorporated into the protests, and the rhetoric used by many organizers and protestors reflected common religious tropes. The Civil Rights Movement and the Black Church The impact of religion on the Civil Rights Movement has been well documented. Both in terms of organization and content of protests, the Black church had an enormous effect on the Civil Rights Movement. The Black church was an autonomous sphere, owned and controlled by Black people, within a larger societal context where Black people were excluded economically, socially, and politically. As a result, in terms of structure, the Black church was the primary organizational center for the Civil Rights Movement (4). The church provided a network of charismatic clergymen who were “economically independent of the larger white society,” a regular meeting place free from surveillance, and a membership that was united by a rich culture and similar political aims (5). As a result, the Black church gave the Civil Rights Movement many resources crucial for a successful social movement. Additionally, the content of the protests themselves were often based on religious teachings from the Black church; one would have to look no further than Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches to see its influence. In one of his most famous speeches, “Eulogy for Martyred Children,” King draws upon Christian notions of martyrdom and applies these sentiments to the fight for racial equality. Older martyrdom accounts—like those of Perpetua and Felicity, or animal sacrifices found in Leviticus—speak of suffering and death transformationally powerful, sometimes for entire communities. King employs a similar theme in his speech, claiming that the children who lost their lives “died nobly,” and that “the innocent blood of these little girls may well serve as a redemptive force that will bring new light to this dark city” (6). Furthermore, King’s speeches often explicitly draw connections between his faith and the modern-day fight for racial justice, saying “They did not die in vain. God still has a way of wringing good out of evil. History has proven over and over again that unmerited suffering is redemptive” (7). When an innocent life is lost due to senseless violence, it can be a rational response to try to make sense of the tragedy. In this way, martyrdom accounts serve an important social function, allowing communities to grapple with tragedy in a meaningful way. Furthermore, these tragedies can be leveraged politically. Many sociologists consider martyrs to be “tangible cultural resources” that can be used to motivate social and political movements. The violence inflicted on a martyr can “galvanize a course of action” and rally a community around their cause (8). Black Lives Matter and Secularization Originally founded in 2013 following the acquittal of George Zimmerman, the Black Lives Matter movement began to build a more prominent national profile in the wake of the deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner, who were both killed by police in the summer of 2014 (9). The Black Lives Matter movement reached a new level of public support following the murder of George Floyd, and it is estimated that tens of millions of people participated in protests across the country in 2020 (10). As a result of its large and diverse membership, the movement is very decentralized; however, the general aims of the movement include police reform and reallocating police department funds to invest in Black communities directly. In contrast to the powerful, direct influence the Black church had on the Civil Rights Movement, Black Lives Matter’s religious influences are far less straightforward, and this is especially apparent in the movement’s organization. Sociologists and political scientists have contended that the Civil Rights Movement and Black Lives Matter movement have markedly different structures. Professor of political science Dewey Clayton has noted that the leadership structure of the two organizations are “vastly different,” describing Black Lives Matter’s structure as “highly decentralized and unstructured” (11). He suggests that, rather than the Black church, social media is the new movement center for Black Lives Matter, contributing to its decentralized nature. Other scholars and researchers have confirmed that social media has played a “core role” in the proliferation of the movement, as platforms like Twitter and Instagram allow for the “documentation of cases of police violence” against both “individual African Americans” and “BLM protests,” which can draw emotional responses from casual users of social media (12). Because of its heavy use of social media, Black Lives Matter “does not want one leader,” but rather encourages leaders from all over the country to “engage in grassroots organizing in their local communities” (13). Jamal Bryant, a clergyman who spoke at Freddie Gray’s funeral, acknowledged this shift in leadership and noted that his role in Black Lives Matter is more limited, saying, “The difference between the Black Lives Matter movement and the civil-rights movement is that the civil-rights movement, by and large, was first out of the church. The Black Lives Matter movement, largely speaking, is not” (14). However, despite the Black church’s receding role in the organization of the movement, the influence of religion and spirituality on the Black Lives Matter movement is still apparent on a national scale. Founders of the movement, like Patrisse Cullors for example, practice Ifà, a religious tradition from Nigeria. She describes her spirituality as having a huge influence on her protests, saying that , “seeking spirituality had a lot to do with trying to seek understanding about [her] conditions… and how [she understands] them as part of a larger fight, a fight for [her] life.” In Black Lives Matter more broadly, researchers have found that protests often incorporate a wide variety of religious rituals, from invoking “the names of abolitionist ancestors'' to “the creation of sacred sites and alters at locations of mourning” to “purification, protection, and healing practices'' like burning sage (15). Overall, Black Lives Matter has incorporated rich religious pluralism into the national movement, as it draws inspiration from Native American, Buddhist, and African religious traditions, in addition to Black Protestant traditions (16). Scholars have found that Black Lives Matter draws from a broader source matter than the Civil Rights Movement did, and others argue that “the Black church is not the only religious well from which Black movements have historically drawn,” and Black Lives Matter is no different (17). Given the broad variety of faiths that Black Lives Matter draws inspiration from, Erika Gault argues that “we are actually seeing more religion, not less” (18). Younger activists from Baltimore described their own beliefs similarly; they did not necessarily have a diminished sense of spirituality, but they felt a need to express their religious beliefs outside of formal institutions. Brion Gill, a 25-year-old organizer, recounted that many of her friends within Black Lives Matter identify as “spiritual but not religious” and claim that they want “a relationship with the Creator” but don’t wish to manifest that “within the church space” (19). BLM’s move away from formal religious organizations fits within social trends more broadly. Around the turn of the century, sociologists began to describe a new theory of secularization, which emphasized that faith is still a “powerful force at the individual level” despite a decline in religious institutional authority (20). Theorists from this newer perspective, sometimes called neosecularization theorists, emphasize that religion is not necessarily “declining… They believe that it is changing” (21). These findings are similar to those articulated in a major study by Hout and Fischer, who found that the number of Americans who identified themselves as having no religious preference increased significantly in the late nineties. From the early ‘90s to the early 2000’s, the number of adults who reported having no religious preference doubled, from roughly 7 percent, to 14 percent (22). However, despite this increase, a significant portion of the population still retains spiritual beliefs: “Over two-thirds (68 percent) of adults with no religious preference expressed some belief in God or a higher power in 1998 or 2000; one-fourth said they do not doubt that God really exists” (23). Thus, the decrease in identification with formal institutions is not driven largely by a decrease in religious sentiment, but rather a stronger desire to disassociate from organized religion. This urge to express religious beliefs often originates from a desire to distance oneself from the conservative political views often associated with religious institutions (24). The sudden decline in religious identifications correlated with the rise of the Religious Right, as “religious conservatives definitely received more attention in the press in the 1990s than during earlier years” (25). Therefore, the authors argue that the rise of the Religious Right initiated dissociation with religious institutions among left-leaning individuals. Hout and Fisher stress that a decline in religious identification is most attributable to a dislike of the Religious Right, and not a result of a decline in religious sentiment or ideas: “The key fact, in sum, about people who express no religious preference is that most are believers of some sort, and many are quite conventional” (26). One of the most commonly used metrics to gauge the religiosity of an individual is the frequency with which they pray. This metric was cited by the authors of this study, and they noted that of the respondents who claimed no religious preference, “Relatively few are secular, agnostic, or atheist; most actually pray. Their most distinguishing feature is their avoidance of churches” (27). Therefore, we may expect contemporary activists to still express religious beliefs and participate in religious rituals in protest, even though they may not be guided by any specific institution. The authors of this article actually raise concerns regarding the future of religious institutions and their connections to social and political movements, asking the question of how the “spiritual but not religious” trend will affect new social movements (28). Overall, secularization in the Black Lives Matter movement seems to be widely consistent with a general nationwide trend towards secularization. While formal religious institutions have less power in influencing behavior and social movements, religious beliefs are still held by a majority of those who participate in the BLM movement. This seems to be the general consensus among scholars who have studied the movement; that, while the movement is no longer organized through the church, spirituality still has a great influence on the movement, and at times, protest can even be a spiritual act. To examine these claims, I will take a closer look at one specific city. To get a sense of how the shift from ‘churched’ social movements to a decentralized movement plays out in a specific city, I will compare Jacksonville’s Civil Rights Movement to its Black Lives Matter movement. Jacksonville and Racial Justice Jacksonville has an extensive history with the Civil Rights Movement. For a considerable portion of time, the primary method of challenging segregation in Jacksonville was through litigation. The City Council segregated numerous public services: streetcars, saloons, theaters. There were long, drawn-out attempts to overturn these and other segregation policies like unequal pay, and an “all-white Democratic primary” (29). However, the courts ruled against African American attorneys seeking to challenge segregationist policies. As a result, civil rights activists turned to civil disobedience. One of the most well-known events in the history of civil rights activism in Jacksonville occurred on August 27, 1960, when a group of African American men staged a sit-in to protest segregation in local businesses and lunch counters (30). The group of protestors were attacked by a group of over 200 Ku Klux Klan members, armed with baseball bats and axe handles. The lunch counters were desegregated in the months following this protest. Although African American communities in Jacksonville had pushed for desegregation in the past, many locals see Axe Handle Saturday as the true start of the Civil Rights Movement in Jacksonville. A first-hand account from protestor Rodney Hurstdetails the planning that went into this protest. His account demonstrates the importance of the Black church. In Hurst’s view, the Black church was a lifeline for the Civil Rights Movement: “the civil rights movement in Jacksonville would not have survived without the support of Black pastors and their churches” (31). Along with providing a support network for protestors, Black churches were the meeting place for the NAACP meetings during the fifties and sixties, providing resources for a legal organization responsible for many local civil rights victories (32). The NAACP’s efforts were crucial in desegregating businesses and public services in Jacksonville. In the months following Axe Handle Saturday, the NAACP Youth Council continued a boycott of downtown merchants, and in the following year the NAACP and business leaders reached an agreement to desegregate the lunch counters (33). Turning to the Black Lives Matter protests that took place decades after the Civil Rights Movement, it is apparent that Jacksonville mirrors national religious trends. While Jacksonville’s Civil Rights Movement used the Black church as its main movement center, taking advantage of its resources and member base, the Black Lives Matter protests were organized in a more decentralized manner, often relying on social media to spread awareness of police violence and information about upcoming events and protests. Over the course of the summer of 2020, several waves of protests were held in Jacksonville; from May 30th to June 8th, the city saw thousands of protestors participate in marches in the downtown area (34). Smaller marches occurred sporadically throughout the greater Jacksonville area in the subsequent weeks. A smaller march took place near Atlantic and Neptune Beach on June 28th. An inter-faith group held a Juneteenth celebration live stream discussing racial injustice on June 19th, and a group of Black ministers hosted a press conference in front of the Duval County Courthouse on June 8th (35). Another wave of protests occurred on July 10th, as protestors blocked off portions of highways around the downtown area (36). Consistent with findings on a national scale, the Jacksonville protests were largely organized through social media; websites like Twitter and Instagram played a crucial role in spreading information throughout the Jacksonville community. Social media accounts were started at several Duval county high schools to document instances of racial profiling; the accounts generally followed a similar format: “they’re titled “Black At [the respective school]” and allow students, parents, and faculty to submit posts where they document racist experiences they’ve had at their respective high school, which are shared publicly on the Instagram account (37). Kiara Alexis, a young community organizer born and raised in West Jacksonville, described the crucial role Twitter played in diffusing information throughout her community, saying “Twitter has become this hub… the news won’t tell you what’s going on, but people on Twitter, they’re gonna come up there and they’re gonna give it to you” (38). Diversity in Spirituality Again, in line with findings on a national scale, although the church was not the main avenue through which protests were organized, religion and spirituality still had a notable impact on the content of the protests. Moments of prayer were incorporated into many of the protests that took place in Jacksonville. One notable example took place on June 3, outside of the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office, where faith leaders led a prayer before a press conference on police accountability (39). Rituals and prayers were not only seen in smaller protests: one of the largest rallies that took place in Jacksonville was the “Reflective Walk” for Floyd in which over 1,000 participants prayed before marching throughout Jacksonville’s San Marco business district and residential areas (40). Even protests that were planned by secular organizations, like The Women’s March Jacksonville Chapter, involved spiritual ceremonies. The Women’s March held a two-hour long remembrance ritual on June 4, where “candles were lit in memory of those who died by police or racial brutality, plants watered on a table as each was remembered.” Participants at this protest were encouraged to express their “sorrow and disgust over the racial division in this country” (41). Jacksonville’s protests often seem to embody what sociologist Emile Durkheim would identify as “collective effervescence,” referring to the emotional effect experienced by individuals when they collectively perform religious rituals; when people come together and perform the same action together, they may feel ‘outside of themselves.’ Durkheim describes this process in Elementary Forms of Religious Life, saying that “When collective life reaches a certain degree of intensity it awakens religious thought… vital energies become overstimulated, sensations stronger; there are even some that are produced only at this moment” (42). In this moment, collective effervescence then strengthens group identity. The common usage of prayer in protest likely serves a similar function; overall, rituals like group prayer serve an important, unifying force during protests, allowing the protester to step outside of themselves and feel a greater sense of unity with those they are protesting with. Aspects of the Jacksonville protests encourage such an experience. For example, Chapter President Bonnie Hendrix was reported as saying “I felt it was time for black people to have the podium to raise their voice, to be heard, to let the pain and anguish of years of oppression, out,” acknowledging the heightened emotional experience that was produced by the remembrance ritual (43). Even disregarding the use of rituals like prayer and reflection, protests exhibited religious characteristics in other ways. When activists described their motivations for protesting, they often directly or indirectly referenced their religious beliefs, often echoing sentiments in speeches from the Civil Rights Movement. On June 8th, several dozen ministers from local Black churches read a letter addressed to Jacksonville mayor Lenny Curry, Sheriff Mike Williams, and various other city and state officials. The letter called for a variety of reforms that asked for increased transparency and communication between police and community members. Some of the demands included roundtable discussions with black officers, increased sensitivity training, and increased diversity in leadership (44). Martyrdom narratives were incorporated into the minister’s press conference as well, as one minister was quoted as saying “It was as a result of George Floyd that all of a sudden a choir began. A choir of people from all across this nation have come together to lend their voices together in harmony for the express purpose of making sure that people can be treated fair.” In a similar manner to how martyrdom narratives were used during the Civil Rights Movement, the pain and suffering inflicted upon George Floyd can be the impetus for social change. In the quote from Rev. Williams, there are themes of unity and healing, demonstrating similar themes to those used by Martin Luther King Jr. in his “Eulogy for Martyred Children” as well as older martyrdom accounts, like those in Leviticus, where the loss of innocent life has the power to transform an entire community. In honor of Juneteenth, a holiday commemorating the end of slavery, the Interfaith Center of Northeast Florida held a livestream, connecting the protests that took place this summer to the fight for equality during the Civil War. Religion again played a large role in the motivations for those participating in the conversation. In describing her motivations for fighting for justice, Rev. Juana Jordan referenced Matthew 10 as an inspiration for resilience in her activism, saying “[Jesus] says people are gonna harass you, and he talks a lot about… using your voice. If you are a part of the family, if you are gonna do what I’m doing, people are gonna come against you. But there’s some responsibilities that you have” (45). In a later comment, Rev. Juana again connected the notion of equal rights to Scripture, saying “I believe in communion, there is more than enough at the table. When Jesus laid out the table, he stretched the table to make sure everybody could come around” (46). This livestream reiterated a common theme from Hurst’s personal account, where faith gives activists resilience in their work. Conclusion In conclusion, faith still plays a prominent role in Black civil rights movements, but its role has been complicated due to recent trends in secularization and the rise of social media. Although social media has replaced the Black church as the organizational center of the movement, spirituality has proved itself to be indispensable to the movement due to its ability to unify protesters through rituals. Finally, spiritual beliefs also seem to be a powerful source of motivation for those who participate in protest, providing inspiration to continue persevering when met with opposition. With this sudden shift towards a more decentralized movement center, it will be interesting to see if Black Lives Matter will be able to achieve the same legislative successes as the Civil Rights Movement. Endnotes 1 “Black Liberation Theology, in its Founder’s Words,” NPR, 2008. 2 Morris, Aldon D , The Origins of the Civil Rights Movement: Black Communities Organizing for Change, (The Free Press, 1986). 3 Gleig, Ann and Farrag, Hebah, “Far from Being anti-religious, faith and spirituality run deep in Black Lives Matter,” The Conversation. 4 Morris, Aldon D , The Origins of the Civil Rights Movement: Black Communities Organizing for Change, 4. 5 Ibid. 6 King, Martin Luther, “Eulogy for the Martyred Children,” Carnegie Mellon University. 7 Ibid, 221. 8 DeSoucey et al, “Memory and Sacrifice: An Embodied Theory of Martyrdom,” ( Cultural Sociology, 2008), 114. 9 Luibrand, Shannon, “How a death in Ferguson sparked a movement in America,” 2015. 10 Buchanan, Quoctrung, and Patel, “Black Lives Matter May Be the Largest Movement in U.S. History,” 2020. 11 Clayton, Dewey M, “Black Lives Matter and the Civil Rights Movement: A Comparative Analysis of Two Social Movements in the United States,” Journal of Black Studies , Vol. 49 no. 5, 2018. 12 Bolsover, Gillian, “Black Lives Matter discourse on US social media during COVID: polarised positions enacted in a new event,” The University of Leeds, Centre for Democratic Engagement, 2020. 13 Clayton, Dewey M, “Black Lives Matter and the Civil Rights Movement: A Comparative Analysis of Two Social Movements in the United States.” 14 Green, Emma, “Black Activism, Unchurched,” The Atlantic, 2016. 15 Gleig, Ann and Farrag, Hebah, “Far from Being anti-religious, faith and spirituality run deep in Black Lives Matter,” The Conversation. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Green, Emma, “Black Activism, Unchurched.” 20 Yamane, David and Roberts, Keith A, “Secularization: Religion in Decline or Transformation?” Religion in Sociological Perspective, (SAGE Publications, 2015), 25. 21 Ibid. 22 Hout, Michael and Fischer, Claude, “Why More Americans Have No Religious Preference: Politics and Generations,” American Sociological Review , vol. 67, no. 2, pp. 165-190, (April 2002), 166. 23 Ibid, 173. 24 Ibid, 168. 25 Ibid, 179. 26 Ibid, 175. 27 Ibid, 175. 28 Ibid, 178. 29 Crooks, James B, “The history of Jacksonville race relations. Part 2: Struggling for equality,” The Florida Times-Union, 2021. 30 Ibid. 31 Hurst, Rodney L, “It was never about a hotdog and a Coke,” Wingspan Press, 2008. 32 Ibid. 33 Woods, Mark and Soergel, Matt, “Ax Handle Saturday: The segregated lunch counters are gone, but the ‘Jacksonville Story’ continues,” 2020. 34 Avanier, Erik, “Thousands march through San Marco during peaceful demonstration,” 2020. 3 5 “The Spirit of Juneteenth,” YouTube, Uploaded by Interfaith Center of Northeast Florida, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flDBJx_HWhM&feature=youtu.be 36 Cravey, Beth R. and Patterson, Steve, “Black Lives Matter protesters march through downtown Jacksonville; 3 arrested,” The Florida Times-Union, 2016. 37 Bloch, Emily, “Students at Jacksonville’s elite schools discuss racism — often anonymously,” The Florida Times-Union, 2020. 38 “The Spirit of Juneteenth,” YouTube, 50:13. 39 “Photos: Jacksonville Black Lives Matter protests in the wake of George Floyd’s death,” The Florida Times-Union, 2020. 40 Ibid. 41 Scanlan, Dan, “Jacksonville Residents continue protests in support of black lives,” The Florida Times-Union. 2020. 42 Durkheim, Emile, “The Elementary Forms of Religious Life,” ( Oxford University Press: 2001), 317. 43 Scanlan, Dan, “Jacksonville Residents continue protests in support of black lives.” 44 Savo-Matthews, Anna, “Black ministers call for Jacksonville reforms amid unrest,” The Florida Times-Union , 2020. 45 “The Spirit of Juneteenth,” YouTube, 61:28. 46 Ibid, 66:54. Works Cited Aron, Hillel. “These Savvy Women have Made Black Lives Matter the Most Crucial Left-Wing Movement Today” LA Weekly. November 9, 2015. http://www.laweekly.com/these-savvy- women-have-made-black-lives-matter- the-most-crucial-left-wing-movement-today/. Avanier, Erik. “Thousands march through San Marco during peaceful demonstration.” News4Jax . June 3, 2020. https://www.news4jax.com/news/local/2020/06/03/city-says-to-expect- emergency-personnel-in-san-marco- square-due-to-scheduled-walk/ “Black Liberation Theology, in its Founder’s Words.” NPR. March 31, 2008. https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=89236116 Bolsover, Gillian. “Black Lives Matter discourse on US social media during COVID: polarised positions enacted in a new event.” The University of Leeds, Centre for Democratic Engagement. August 21, 2020. https://arxiv.org/ pdf/2009.03619.pdf Bloch, Emily. “Students at Jacksonville’s elite schools discuss racism — often anonymously.” The Florida Times-Union. June 16, 2020. https://www.jacksonville.com/story/news/local/2020/06/16/students-at-jacksonvillersquos- elite-schools-discuss-racism-mdash-often-anonymously/112296954/ Buchanan, Quoctrung, and Patel. “Black Lives Matter May Be the Largest Movement in U.S. History” The New York Times. July 3, 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/07/03/us/george-floyd-protests-crowd-size. html Clayton, Dewey M. “Black Lives Matter and the Civil Rights Movement: A Comparative Analysis of Two Social Movements in the United States.” Journal of Black Studies . Vol. 49 no. 5, pp. 448-480. March 21, 2018. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0021934718764099? journalCode=jbsa Cravey, Beth R. and Patterson, Steve. “Black Lives Matter protesters march through downtown Jacksonville; 3 arrested.” The Florida Times-Union. July 10, 2016. https://www.jacksonville.com/news/metro/2016-07-10/story/black-lives-matter-protesters- march-through-downtown-jacksonville-3 Crooks, James B. “The history of Jacksonville race relations. Part 2: Struggling for equality.” The Florida Times-Union. September 5, 2021. https://www.jacksonville.com/story/opinion/columns/guest/2021/09/05/james- crooks-history- jacksonville-race-relations-struggling-equality/8210831002/ DeSoucey et al. “Memory and Sacrifice: An Embodied Theory of Martyrdom.” Cultural Sociology. Vol. 2, no.1, pp. 99-121. 2008. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1749975507086276 Durkheim, Emile. “The Elementary Forms of Religious Life.” Oxford University Press. Translated by Carol Cosman. 2001. Farrag, Hebah H. “The Role of Spirit in the #BlackLivesMatter Movement: A Conversation with Activist and Artist Patrisse Cullors.” Religion Dispatches. June 24, 2015. https://religiondispatches.org/the-role-of-spirit-in-the-blacklivesmatter-movement-a- conversation-with-activist-and-artist-patrisse-cullors/ Gleig, Ann and Farrag, Hebah. “Far from Being anti-religious, faith and spirituality run deep in Black Lives Matter.” The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/far-from- being-anti-religious- faith-and-spirituality-run-deep-in- black-lives-matter-145610 Green, Emma. “Black Activism, Unchurched.” The Atlantic. March 22, 2016. https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/03/black-activism-baltimore- black-church/474822/ Hout, Michael and Fischer, Claude. “Why More Americans Have No Religious Preference: Politics and Generations.” American Sociological Review . vol. 67, no. 2, pp. 165-190. April 2002. https://www.jstor.org/stable/3088891?seq=1 Hurst, Rodney L. “It was never about a hotdog and a Coke.” Wingspan Press. Jan 1, 2008. “The Spirit of Juneteenth.” YouTube. Uploaded by Interfaith Center of Northeast Florida, June 24, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flDBJx_ HWhM&feature=youtu.be King, Martin Luther. “Eulogy for the Martyred Children.” Carnegie Mellon University. http://digitalcollections.library.cmu.edu/awweb/awarchive?type=- file&item=434085 Luibrand, Shannon. “How a death in Ferguson sparked a movement in America.” August 7, 2015. CBS News. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/how-the-black-lives-matter-movement-changed- america-one-year-later/ Morris, Aldon D . The Origins of the Civil Rights Movement: Black Communities Organizing for Change . The Free Press. January 1, 1986. Savo-Matthews, Anna. “Black ministers call for Jacksonville reforms amid unrest.” The Florida Times- Union. June 8, 2020. https://www.jacksonville.com/story/ news/local/2020/06/08/black- ministers-call-for-jacksonville-reforms-amid-unrest/112295624/ Scanlan, Dan. “Jacksonville Residents continue protests in support of black lives.” The Florida Times- Union. June 4, 2020. https://www.jacksonville.com/sto- ry/news/local/2020/06/04/jacksonville- residents-continue-protests-in-sup- port-of-black-lives/112302732/ “Photos: Jacksonville Black Lives Matter protests in the wake of George Floyd’s death.” The Florida Times-Union. June 7, 2020. https://www.jacksonville.com/photogallery/LK/20200607/PHOTOGALLERY/607009988/PH/1 Vandenboom, Liza. “The Faith of the Black Lives Matter Movement.” Religion Unplugged. July 10, 2020. https://religionunplugged.com/news/2020/7/10/ the-faith-of-the-black-lives-matter- movement Woods, Mark and Soergel, Matt. “Ax Handle Saturday: The segregated lunch counters are gone, but the ‘Jacksonville Story’ continues.” The Florida Times-Union. August 21, 2020. https://www.jacksonville.com/story/news/ history/2020/08/21/jacksonville-civil-rights-demonstrators-took-action-60-years-ago-ax-handle-saturday/5620995002/ Yamane, David and Roberts, Keith A. “Secularization: Religion in Decline or Transformation?” Religion in Sociological Perspective, Sixth Edition. SAGE Publications. 2015. Previous Next

Alexa Stanger Happening on “Polished Society”: Towards a Theory of Progress and Corruption in the writings of Adam Ferguson and David Hume Alexa Stanger As two of the most important philosophical thinkers of the Scottish Enlightenment, David Hume and Adam Ferguson wrote formative texts in the philosophical discourse of modernity. Witnessing the emergence of commercial society and constitutional governments, both thinkers saw the classical republican model of politics, with its teleological bent and emphasis on cultivating the proper function of humans, as obsolete in the context of the commercial world. Neither civic virtue nor a pursuit of the proper function of humanity could explain the emergence of modern society—nor could they explain how commercial society might progress (1). In a sharp contrast to ancient philosophy, Hume and Ferguson realized the importance of locating their philosophy within a historical context. Even if the chief role of history is to serve as a record of the virtues or practices that have historically proved to be beneficial, Hume and Ferguson’s application of history provides a new prism through which people’s judgement might be filtered, introducing the space for a theory of progress. Indeed, the notion of humanity’s ability to progress, if not a belief in the inevitability of progress itself, is integral to both writers and to Enlightenment thought: “polished society,” where the full flourishing of the arts and sciences might be realised, was the logical progression of human society from its “rude” origins (2). The newfound importance ascribed to wealth, manners, and freedom meant that the ancient formulations of moral and civic virtue, such as those found in Plato’s writings, had to be re-evaluated in the context of the modern state. Nevertheless, Ferguson retains some notion of Classical teleology in his republicanism, a point where he diverges from Hume, in what Fania Oz-Salzberger describes as a “theory of commercial modernity with classical-republican linch- pins” (3). Where Hume has endless praise for the merits of modern society, Ferguson holds significant reservations. Hume’s vision of progress contains both a moral and a material character whereas Ferguson fears a deep tension between these two forces. Often neglected in Hume’s shadow, Ferguson is cast as the pessimistic commentator on bourgeois society, “a bemused, perplexed and rather worried observer of the kind of Civil Society which he sees emerging” (4). He sees the dark underside of commercial society that, whilst demonstrating how society has progressed from its primitive predecessors, might also plant the seeds of its corruption. In reading these two philosophers alongside one another, we might come to a better understanding of how the same philosophical current creates room for a theory of progress, a shining optimism in the path that industrialisation laid before human society, whilst retaining a sober skepticism of what might lie beneath the polish. An inquiry into Hume’s concept of human nature provides the basis for under- standing how polished society might arise and how this society might subsequently progress. His methodology thus deftly engages a set of timeless observations, namely those pertaining to human nature, within the context of humankind’s historical development. Today, “polished society” might be understood as a narrow, elitist notion of the values society should nurture, though in the Scottish Enlightenment this term referred to qualities of “polish” as an indispensable quality of civilized life and the foundation for progress in all aspects of society, not limited to politics but extending into art, religion, even the built environment. Hume famously declared that “reason is and ought only to be the slave of the passions,” arguing that in spurring an agent to act, the feelings the action provokes surpass any rational analysis of outcomes (5). However, Hume arguably overstates his point: reason is not entirely removed from the equation when people assess whether or not to act. In fact, there is a significant level of rational exercise at work in the self-reflective process where people evaluate the sentiments attached to a certain action—an exercise introduced in Hume’s philosophy by his concept of justice. It is “the sense of virtue [...] deriv’d from reason, ” that facilitates a self-reflective process that corrects people’s natural near-sightedness (where the “strongest attention is confin’d to [oneself]”) in the interests of longer-term societal preservation (6). Hume thus strikes a necessary balance between rationality and sentiment in informing how a people have tempered their passion-directed actions as a result of living in society (7). More pertinent to an understanding of progress in Hume’s philosophy is his notion of humankind as fundamentally self-interested yet partially benevolent. Hume dismisses the Hobbesian state of nature as pure fiction. As Hume conceives the individual as being primarily directed by sentiment, the notion of human character as fundamentally sympathetic arises. The Humean individual is depicted as standing at the hub of a network of social relationships, and it is through assessment of how one’s action might not only be received by the individual themselves, but also by those around them that leads to moral sympathy in Hume’s formulation. This sympathetic construction of human nature gives rise to another concept in Hume’s philosophy: the “partial benevolence” of humanity (8). Hume sees self-interest, albeit attuned to how this self-interest might complement the broader interests of society, as the chief director of human action: “this avidity alone, of acquiring goods and possessions for ourselves and our nearest friends, is insatiable, perpetual, universal, and directly destructive of society” (9). Although he indicates here how this self-interest might initially appear destructive and all-consuming, the consideration of the interests of “nearest friends” expands self-interest beyond the purely selfish. Unselfish self-interest is possible; though self-interest begins with an individual’s attention on their personal needs, awareness of the interests of close friends tempers this selfishness. The balancing of myopic focus on the self with the interests of an individual’s associates foreshadows the idea of partial benevolence, where a concern for the interests of one’s associates pulls at humankind’s naturally sympathetic imagination and shapes how closely one chooses to follow their self-interest. Partial benevolence becomes a check for this insatiability, channelling it into a useful form that motivates individuals to engage in an active life in order to satisfy their appetites. As people find a middle ground between self-interest and its blind pursuit, they make space for progress in the realm of polished society, be that commerce or the arts, whilst also solidifying the “bands of affection” that are necessary to the preservation of society. Consequently, these self-interested bands of affection might actually serve the public interest in the long-term through ensuring that an individual remains in society but also set the wheels of progress in motion. Similar to Hume, Ferguson also recognizes self-interest as a fundamental characteristic of human nature and emphasises the associational aspect of polished society, whereby humans inevitably interact and largely cooperate with one an- other in order to live. It is the “motive of interest” that “animate[s] the pursuits, or direct[s] the measures, of ordinary men” (10). Indeed, it is this associational tendency of humanity that Ferguson fears commercial society, overrun with the vicious effects of capitalism, will ultimately undermine. However, this notion of association—that a human is influenced by the relations he draws between himself and their fellow person—is extended to include not only interpersonal relations but also intergenerational and even intergovernmental ones: “man proceed[s] from one form of government to another, by easy transitions [...] the seeds of every form are lodged in human nature” (11). It is perfectly natural that one form of human society should build upon its predecessors’ society, conveying a linear progression of history in Ferguson’s political thought. The tendency of governments and human associations to build upon one another is a product of what Ferguson characterises as the tendency of “nations [to] stumble upon establishments” (12). He claims that it is not in human nature to “foresee” but rather to “know by experience” precisely what form of government might arise (13). Ferguson argues that humans learn from history what actions are most conducive to a stable society, enabling them to dispense with the errors of the past and thus embark on the gradual advancement of society: one generation builds on another. In this way, the inevitability of progress, even if this does not bar the possibility of regress, is ingrained in Ferguson’s philosophy through his view of history as a linear process. In fact, one might argue that what Ferguson sees as the failure of primitive societies is a prerequisite for his philosophy on the emergence of polished society. In his Essay on the History of Civil Society, Ferguson writes “Nations, which in later periods of their history became eminent for civil wisdom and justice, had, perhaps, in a former age, paroxysms of lawless disorder [...] The very policy by which they arrived at their degree of national felicity, was devised as a remedy for outrageous abuse” (14). Ferguson shows that in such national development, there was an intentional attempt on the part of their lawmakers to restructure their society in view of redressing past failings and avoiding their repetition. It is through understanding past mistakes, inquiring into why nations have failed, that humans might work toward progress. It is worth not- ing that Ferguson does not see history as a grand narrative documenting humans as passive, but sees history as directly driven by human action: “the attainment of one end is but the beginning of a new pursuit” (15). History is thus in part driven by humans’ insatiable self-interest, which requires them to be endlessly engaged in the workings of society, giving them an investment in their society that will be conducive to its progression. The social nature of human character, the fact that one is born into society and actively creates and participates in society’s custom, helps us understand the role of custom in Hume’s philosophy, which can then be applied to a theory of progress. Hume makes clear the importance of custom in explaining why certain values have been retained in human association and how these values shape our moral judgement: “each century has its peculiar mode in conducting business; and men, guided more by custom than by reason, follow, without inquiry, the manners which are prevalent in their own time” (16). The crucial role of custom in shaping human action becomes intuitive when connected to Hume’s concept of the natural sociability of humankind and his construction of human society. Furthermore, Hume’s understanding of custom helps resolve a potential logical break in his philosophy regarding the space for progress. If Hume’s philosophy emphasises the importance of sentiment, with all its changeability in directing human action and morality, one might question how progression can arise, when this notion implies a degree of consistency and gradual change. It is the role of sentiment in conjunction with history that turns these inconsistent actions of human nature into a pattern of action that we name custom. This custom, in turn, directs future human action while remaining a product of what was originally deemed moral by human sentiment: “habit soon consolidates what other principles of human nature had imperfectly founded,” and in this way history acts as a stabilising force (17). Although both Hume and Ferguson historicize human nature, they do not go so far as Hegel’s dialectic, where human nature itself is altered by human action in the unfolding of history and the synthesis of conflicting human interactions (18). In fact, Hume holds a rather conservative view of the influence of history on human action, stating that history’s “chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature” (19). This statement is potentially misleading if the “constancy” of human nature is misinterpreted as the predictability of human action: history does not serve only to erode difference and show the universal properties of human nature but also shows how these properties arose by accident but were retained as a result of their demonstrated usefulness in practice. In this conception of a human nature informed by historical events, Alix Cohen observes a malleable element of human judgement that overlays the selfish quality of Hume’s formulation of human nature, which is “influenced by society and political structures” (20). In fact, Hume emphasises the inconstancy of human nature: “‘tis difficult for the mind, when actuated by any passion, to confine itself to that passion alone, without any change or variation. Human nature is too inconstant to admit of any such regularity. Changeableness is essential to it” (21). It is precisely this inconstancy in human nature, unable to predict the workings of the imagination, that allows for history to enter onto the scene. By replacing reason with sentiment as the primary motivator for human action, Hume renders humankind susceptible to the influence of convention in directing one’s actions, because people realise that their actions have consequences and can predict how their actions might be received. This is not to say that a person becomes subject to, nor even the “slave of” passions, but rather that in critical self-reflection of how to direct their actions, the person is profoundly influenced by the passions that might arise from society’s regard for their actions (22). This is the necessary effect of Hume’s formulation of society as a network of relations and exposes a dynamism in human nature conducive to progress. Having demonstrated how both Ferguson and Hume conceive of humans as naturally social, influenced in their actions by custom and the “lessons of history,” one might now consider where a theory of progress fits into their philosophies. It has been established that both thinkers regarded modern, commercial society as the most artistically and technologically advanced form of society, where the arts and sciences flourish as never before (23). Furthermore, in preserving the beneficial consequences of human action as custom, the role of history makes room for the idea that commercial society tends toward building on such historical principles for overall betterment. Hume’s notion of justice as the safeguarding of property rights connects political stability with commercial activity: commercial activity, along with humankind’s naturally self-interested disposition, compels people to establish as well as to adhere to the rules of justice so that they might enjoy the fruits of a collective labour. In this way, the progress of political society goes hand in hand with the progress of economic thought: “polished society,” therefore, manifests both civic and commercial advancement. Furthermore, Hume posits leading an active life as almost part of human nature, suggesting that economic progress is the logical corollary of his formulation of humanity; he claims that it is not only the love of the fruit of labour but also the occupation itself that produces pleasure on pursuing activity as opposed to idleness (24). It is this dual satisfaction that such labour produces, including a sentimental element elevated above a purely material interest, that demonstrates how human nature might guide societal progress. Work invigorates the mind such that humankind has a selfish interest in seeing industry and the arts flourish; a person’s natural predisposition towards activity and commitment to their work thereby necessarily entails an aggregate progress. In considering the general progress of society, the notion of moral progress (or at least the evolution of tastes) also plays a constitutive role. In commercial society, Hume argues that “the possessor has also a secondary satisfaction in riches arising from the love and esteem he acquires by them” (25). The love of this secondary satisfaction gives rise to the potentially destructive human greed in commercial society that Ferguson so feared, but it nonetheless provides an impetus for humans to engage in commercial activity, such as trade and manufacturing. These secondary satisfactions deriving from said “love and esteem” (sentiments connected to a judgement of character and reputation) demonstrate how morality might also play a role in an assessment of economic progress. This sympathetic character of man- kind gives rise to these feelings of love and esteem, which are innately associated with the acquisition of wealth and status. In this way, it might be expected that the progression of morals, or at least an evolution of tastes, accompanies or even acts as a precondition for economic progress. However, an evolution of tastes does not necessarily constitute an evolution of morality in itself and Hume is noticeably conservative in his discussion of humankind’s capacity to attain “improvement of judgement.” He states that people “cannot change their natures [...] all they can do is to change their situation,” thus implying that moral advancement is not a consequence of societal progress, at least in the form of industrialisation or greater commercialisation (26). For better or worse, in his construction of moral sentiment as a reflexive phenomenon, Hume sees the cultivation of moral sentiment as secondary to the progress of economics, arts and even politics. Conditioned by custom and the perceptions that an individual holds of his fellow people, moral sentiment cannot actively determine progress but rather is shaped by it. Indeed, it is at this juncture that Ferguson comes into most direct conflict with Hume’s philosophy, as he resoundingly argues that moral progress is not a necessary consequence of societal progress. In fact, he argues that even in polished society, human nature is fundamentally unchanged, although such change would guard against its corruptive tendencies, such as greed: “there have been very few examples of states, who have, by arts or policy, improved the original dispositions of human nature, or endeavoured, by wise and effectual precautions, to prevent its corruption” (27). He verbosely writes of the destructive effects of commercial society, exposing people to the pursuit of wealth within the new commercial machinery of modernity without regard to their actions’ broader societal impacts. The “continued subdivision of the mechanical arts” in the progress of commerce heralds the emergence of an atomised society, where “the sources of wealth are laid open” and humankind, “ignorant of all human affairs [...] may contribute to the preservation and enlargement of their commonwealth, without making its interest an object of their regard or attention” (28). This introduces the notion that commercial society is the crucible where progress gains momentum but also paradoxically creates the corruptive forces that cause its decline: “The mighty engine which we suppose to have formed society, only tends to set its members at variance, or to continue their intercourse after the bands of affection are broken” (29). Ferguson argues that it is only humanity’s natural interest in self-preservation that, with re- flection and foresight, might lead humanity to temper their pursuit of gain so as to mitigate the total destruction of society. It is when these interests stray too far from national interest that society is rendered vulnerable, a risk that Ferguson sees as heightened in commercial society. However, where this interest takes the form of “enlightened interest,” humankind’s superior nature is capable of moderating this raw self-interest to orient it towards achieving something more elevated, namely the “ambition or the desire of something higher than is possessed at present” (30). Introducing an almost normative element to the object of natural self-interest, Ferguson’s philosophy draws closer to his classical predecessors and opens up a space for progress. Ferguson seems to believe that ambition, which might be thought of as the commercial variant of Aristotle’s drive for the proper function of humans, drives progress in society. However, there is undoubtedly a dark side to this ambition, which must be modulated. In order to protect society from unfettered ambition, Ferguson draws further on a quasi-teleological argument. Ferguson locates the seeds of corruption in humankind’s tendency to value material gain—either for the gain itself or the notions of esteem associated with the possession of great wealth—above other virtues more aligned with the public interest. The danger of polished society is this redefinition of virtue along commercial lines: the transferral of “the idea of perfection from the character to the equipage,” such that a pursuit of “virtue” leads to the desire to dominate one’s fellow citizen, subjugating the public interest to the private (31). Although this change in the concept of virtue is deeply troubling for Ferguson, he nevertheless admits that the drive towards this new “perfection of equipage” is a powerful incentive for people to engage in politics, stating that “the desires of preferment and profit in the breast of the citizen, are the motives from which he is excited to enter on public affairs” (32). This introduces a contra- diction in Ferguson’s work. His solution for retrieving bourgeois society from a cycle of progress and decline is to encourage “active political citizenry” among the populace, preventing the spirit of “servility,” which ironically accompanies the rise of industry, from also allowing the rise of tyranny (33). This argument for active political engagement has clear Aristotelian undertones, which become even more explicit in Ferguson’s solution for commercial corruption. In his view, the hope for bourgeois society lies in active political participation, ideally by the individual who might orient their actions to the public interest. In doing so, Ferguson believes the individual might “educate” the lower classes through leading by example and demonstrating how civic virtue might be combined with power and wealth. Such a politician is necessary for preventing public life from being perceived as “a scene for the gratification of mere vanity, avarice, and ambition” instead “furnishing the best opportunity for a just and a happy engagement of the mind and the heart” (34). However, if people enter politics out of purely ambitious motives (themselves the products of polished society’s new idea of perfection) can this ideal politician exist in reality? It is not ambition itself that causes problems, but how the object of this ambition might conflict with the responsibilities of public office. Ferguson makes some attempt to resolve this tension in proposing a cyclical progress of society, though this is also potentially at odds with his linear notion of history, writing that “when human nature appears in the utmost state of corruption, it has actually begun to reform” (35). Although Hume does not fear the corruption and decline of commercial society as Ferguson does, Hume’s theory of justice indicates a conservative view of the extent to which society might progress, particularly in the realm of political innovation. Where Ferguson casts conflict as a means through which political society might develop, stating that “the virtues of men have shone most during their struggles,” Hume strongly guards against rebellion except in the most desperate case (36). In order to prevent a habit of disobedience from arising, Hume argues that rebellion should only be “the last refuge [...] when the public is in the highest danger from violence and tyranny” (37). Since resistance may only be countenanced in the most dire situations, Hume appears to discourage political innovation, at least where it risks rebellion. Recalling how political progress and economic progress appear to go hand in hand in his philosophy, one might wonder whether he foresees a limit on societal progress. In the interests of preserving stability, Hume even discourages political innovation on the part of the wise individual: to “try experiments merely upon the credit of supposed argument and philosophy, can never be the part of a wise magistrate, who will bear a reverence to what carries the marks of age”—he will cater towards societal consensus (38). In this way, individual action is circumscribed, revealing a disconnect between progress at the individual and societal levels, even questioning the ability of the “wise” individual to drive societal progress. One might wonder what the benefits of moral improvement are if the finest person must cater to the most vulgar elements of society. Hume’s philosophy certainly allows for such moral progress but perhaps only to a point, which he regards as the commercialised bourgeois society that he found himself living in and has endless praise for (39). It is almost impossible to separate human nature, morality, and the role of his- tory from Hume’s and Ferguson’s theories of progress. Humankind’s historical context and indeed the level of refinement of the society that humans live in determines the customs that will shape their moral judgement. Being fundamentally self-interested and motivated by sentiment, it follows that people’s actions are directly influenced by the level of civilization manifest in their surroundings. One might worry that basing the promise of societal progress on the power of humankind’s sympathetic nature to direct their actions towards a public interest is inherently unstable, given the inconstancy of their passions. However, it is possible that an attempt to correct this inconstancy would be fruitless considering how societal progress changes what humanity considers virtuous or part of the pub- lic interest. In fact, Oz-Salzberger writes that “wealth, in the modern European state, could no longer be opposed to virtue; ‘virtue’ itself was being transformed into a civil rather than civic, moral framework” (40). It is this transformation of the notion of virtue, produced by commercial society, that Ferguson fears will lead to corruption, both on a moral and societal level. What is perhaps most innovative to the theory of progress that evolves in both Ferguson’s and Hume’s writings is the role of history. In their philosophies, history does not provide a blueprint for how society must progress nor is it deterministic in how the interactions of human societies might grease the wheels of history towards a more polished, liberated end. Rather, history is useful as a sociological instrument for demonstrating how beneficial practices that humans have “stumbled upon” come to be a part of their nature, without fundamentally changing their character. History does not determine morality nor human identity as such but rather provides an extra layer for understanding how human judgement has evolved and why certain customs have gained such power. In fact, history might safeguard societal progress against decline through preserving political wisdom that has been derived from history, encouraging society to learn from humanity’s past successes and errors. As both authors were writing in response to such historical moments as the English Civil War, it would be almost illogical to dismiss history’s role in informing their ideas of progress and corruption, especially when so much of what they wrote was being informed by the lessons of these historical moments—practical manifestations of how people’s actions might be shaped by history. Endnotes 1 See Christopher J. Berry’s The Idea of Commercial Society in the Scottish Enlightenment for a more in-depth analysis of how Scottish Enlightenment thinkers understood “commercial society”, a society that is neither polity nor clan but contains governments and institutions systematic in their division of labor. 2 John Varty’s essay elaborates on how Ferguson, Hume and other thinkers of the Scottish Enlightenment formulated this idea of society’s progression from ‘primitive’ or ‘rude’ society’ to ‘civilized’ or ‘polished’ society. See John Varty, “Civic or Commercial? Adam Ferguson’s Concept of Civil Society,” Democratization 4, no. 1 (Spring 1997). 3 Fania Oz-Salzberger, “The Political Theory of the Scottish Enlightenment,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment, edited by Alexander Broadie (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003),168. 4 Ernest Gellner, Conditions of Liberty: Civil Society and Its Rivals , (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1995), 62. 5 David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature . Ed. L.A. Selby-Biggs, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), 415. 6 Hume, Treatise , 496 and 488. 7 David Miller describes this balance between the purely rational and the purely sentimental in the formulation of moral judgements in Hume’s philosophy as ‘mitigated scepticism’ (David Miller, Philosophy and Ideology in Hume’s Political Thought , (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984), 41.). 8 David Miller, Philosophy and Ideology , 107. 9 Hume, Treatise , 491-2. 10 Adam Ferguson, An Essay on the History of Civil Society , (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 132. 11 Ferguson, Essay , 120. 12 Ibid, 119. 13 Ibid, 120. 14 Ibid, 230. 15 Ferguson, Essay , 205. 16 From Hume’s History of England , cited in Miller, Philosophy and Ideology, p. 103. 17 David Hume, “Of the Origin of Government,” Essays Moral, Political, and Literary, edited by E. F. Miller, (Indianapolis: Liberty Classics, 1985), 39. 18 Hume states that ‘all plans of government, which suppose great reformation in the manners of mankind, are plainly imaginary,’ (“Idea of A Perfect Commonwealth”, Essays, p. 514). By contrast, Hegel sees human nature as contextual and integrally social. For Hegel, the human mind is “a living unity or system of processes”, and, most importantly, is “world-historical”. Stating that “man is what he does”, Hegel argues that human nature is inherently linked to human action. For more reading on Hegel’s dialectic and his understanding of human nature, see Chrisopher J. Berry, Hume, Hegel and Human Nature (Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands, 1982). in particular 129-146. 19 From Hume’s An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding , cited in Miller, Philosophy and Ideology, 102. 20 Alix Cohen, “The Notion of Moral Progress in Hume’s Philosophy: Does Hume Have a Theory of Moral Progress?”, Hume Studies, 26, no. 1 (April 2000), 110. 21 Hume, Treatise , 283. 22 Ibid, 415. 23 Miller, Philosophy and Ideology , 124. 24 Hume discusses this in “Of Refinement in the Arts,” Essays. 25 Hume, Treatise . 26 Hume, Treatise , 537. 27 Ferguson, Essay , 195. 28 Ibid, 173. The division of labour, rather than being a form of justice in its Classical formulation, allows for the pursuit of self-interest that does not necessarily contribute to the overall harmony of society. Thus, although such specialisation might enable a general progress in mechanical and commercial arts as each individual devotes. themselves, albeit out of self-interested motives, towards advancing their field of expertise, it also leads to the weakening of an individual’s allegiance to the wellbeing of his society as a whole. This effect is also bolstered by man’s natural tendency to subjugate long-term consequences in the view of short-term gain. 29 Ferguson cited in John Varty, “Civic or Commercial? Adam Ferguson’s Concept of Civil Society,” Democratization 4, no. 1 (Spring 1997), 35. 30 From Hume’s An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals , cited in Lisa Hill, “Adam Ferguson and the Paradox of Progress and Decline,” History of Political Thought, vol. 18, no. 4 (Winter 1997), 679. 31 Ferguson, Essay , 239. 32 Ibid, 245. Indeed, Ferguson argues that ignoring this fact is a corruption in itself: ‘the pretended moderation assumed by the higher orders of men, has a fatal effect in the state.’ (Essay, 245). 33 Hill, “Adam Ferguson and the Paradox of Progress and Decline,” 681. 34 Ferguson, Essay , 244. 35 Ibid, 278-9. 36 Ibid, 196. 37 Hume, “Of Passive Obedience,” Essays, 490. 38 Hume, “Idea of a Perfect Commonwealth,” Essays, 512. 39 Hume indicates what this necessary balance might look like: ‘Some innovations must necessarily have place in every human institution; and it is happy where the enlightened genius of the age give these a direction to the side of reason, liberty, and justice: but violent innovations no individual is entitled to make. (“Of the Original Contract,” Essays, 477). 40 Oz-Salzberger, “The Political Theory of the Scottish Enlightenment,” 169. Bibliography Berry, Christopher J. “Sociality and Socialisation.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment , edited by Alexander Broadie, 243-57. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Hume, Hegel and Human Nature. Dordrecht: Springer, Netherlands, 1982. The Idea of Commercial Society in the Scottish Enlightenment. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014. Cohen, Alix. “The Notion of Moral Progress in Hume’s Philosophy: Does Hume Have a Theory of Moral Progress?”, Hume Studies 26, no. 1 (April, 2000) 109-128. Ferguson, Adam. An Essay on the History of Civil Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Gellner, Ernest. Conditions of Liberty: Civil Society and Its Rivals. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1995. Hill, Lisa. “Adam Ferguson and the Paradox of Progress and Decline,” History of Political Thought , 18, no. 4 (Winter 1997) 677-706. Hume, David. A Treatise of Human Nature . Ed. L.A. Selby-Biggs. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978. Hume, David. Essays Moral, Political, and Literary, edited by E. F. Miller. Indianapolis: Liberty Classics, 1985. Kalyvas, Andreas and Katznelson, Ira. “Adam Ferguson Returns: Liberalism through a Glass Darkly,” Political Theory 26, no. 2 (April 1998) 173-197. Miller, David. Philosophy and Ideology in Hume’s Political Thought . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984. Oz-Salzberger, Fania. “The Political Theory of the Scottish Enlightenment.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment, edited by Alexander Broadie, 157-77. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Pittock, Murray G. H. “Historiography.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment , edited by Alexander Broadie, 258-79. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Varty, John. “Civic or Commercial? Adam Ferguson’s Concept of Civil Society,” Democratization , 4, no. 1 (Spring 1997) 29-48. Previous Next

In this essay, I engage with G.A. Cohen’s argument by analogy that proletarians are individually free. I grant that Cohen’s analogy successfully represents the world. I disagree, however, with his conclusion, and use Philip Pettit’s conception of freedom as non-domination to demonstrate that proleta The Individual Unfreedom of the Proletarian Cal Fawell University of Chicago Author Marko Winedt Hanci Lei Neil Sehgal Matthew Dowling Editors Spring 2019 Abstract In this essay, I engage with G.A. Cohen’s argument by analogy that proletarians are individually free. I grant that Cohen’s analogy successfully represents the world. I disagree, however, with his conclusion, and use Philip Pettit’s conception of freedom as non-domination to demonstrate that proletarians are individually unfree. Specifically, I argue that even though fewer proletarians leave the proletariat than possibly could, they are nonetheless “dominated”—and thus, each is individually unfree. This essay grants the accuracy of Cohen’s analogy, and from this assumption draws the conclusion that proletarians are individually unfree. In drawing this conclusion, this essay follows the style of modus ponens. It first argues for the conditional: if Pettit’s notion of freedom holds, then the conclusion Cohen draws must fail. It then argues that Pettit’s notion holds, showing that it accurately captures our intuitions on the subject. In arguing for the conditional, this essay contends that Pettit’s criteria for unfreedom are satisfied for each individual proletarian. In arguing for the antecedent, it demonstrates a number of intuitive considerations which support Pettit’s conception of freedom. From this, it concludes that each character in the room of Cohen’s analogy is unfree. Combined with the original hypothetical stance that Cohen’s analogy accurately relates to the world, it follows that proletarians are individually unfree. Download full text PDF (12 pages) In The Structure of Proletarian Unfreedom , G.A. Cohen addresses the status of wage-earners whose only available resource is their potential to work for a salary; they are unable to produce the necessities of life themselves. These people are known as proletarians; the class of all such proletarians is known as the proletariat. Cohen begins with the view that since only a few proletarians are able to advance from the proletariat, proletarians—taken as a whole—are forced to sell their labor power. He denies, however, that this conflicts with his claim that “most proletarians are not forced to sell their labor power,” justifying this denial with an analogy: Ten people are placed in a room the only exit from which is a huge and heavy locked door. At various distances from each lies a single heavy key. Whoever picks up this key—and each is physically able, with varying degrees of effort, to do so—and takes it to the door will find, after considerable self-application, a way to open the door and leave the room. But if he does so he alone will be able to leave it. Photoelectric devices installed by a jailer ensure that it will open only just enough to permit one exit. Then it will close, and no one inside the room will be able to open it again.[1] The structure of this analogy is relatively simple. A group of people are imprisoned, all are initially able to escape, but ultimately only one is allowed to do so. He draws out the significance of this analogy by saying that: Whomever we select, it is true of the other nine that not one of them is going to try to get the key. Therefore it is true of the selected person that he is free to obtain the key, and to use it. He is therefore not forced to remain in the room. But all this is true of whomever we select. Therefore it is true of each person that he is not forced to remain in the room, even though necessarily at least nine will remain in the room, and in fact all will.[2] Here, Cohen alludes to the crucial assumption that whoever attempts to exit the room will not be interfered with from this task by the other occupants (elsewhere: “…each is free to use [the means of egress], since, ex hypothesi, no one would block his way”[3]). Cohen uses this analogy to argue that every individual in the proletariat is free to leave it. He neatly introduces this line of thought by saying that “there are more exits from the British proletariat than there are workers trying to leave it. Therefore, British workers are individually free to leave the proletariat.”[4] He calls this “argument 7.” Analogously: just as any chosen member of the room is able and free to leave it, Cohen believes that this same freedom applies to any—and therefore every—member of the proletariat. Yet, Cohen understands that “there is a great deal of unfreedom in their situation.”[5] He invents a term for this unfreedom, naming it “collective unfreedom,” which describes the case in which “not more that one can exercise the liberty they all have.”[6] Cohen uses this device to explain our intuitions about the unfreedom of this situation, ultimately claiming that “there are very few exits from the British proletariat and there are very many workers in it. Therefore, British workers are collectively unfree to leave the proletariat.”[7] He calls this “argument 8.” Cohen means to hold argument 7 (that proletarians are individually free) and argument 8 (that proletarians are collectively unfree) together in a state of non-contradiction in order to satisfy our intuitions about freedom on both collective and individual levels. It is the aim of this essay to show that, on the contrary, argument 7 fails. To do this, Philip Pettit’s conception of liberty as non-domination is enlisted. In short, Pettit holds that X dominates Y if X has the capacity to interfere on an arbitrary basis in certain choices that Y is in a position to make. There are three components to Pettit’s view of domination: one is dominating if they have (a) a capacity to interfere, (b) on an arbitrary basis, (c) in certain decisions another is able to make. Critically, domination is an inherently potential characterization of unfreedom. It is the capacity for a certain kind of interference, not the interference itself. With respect to (a), the capacity to interfere, Pettit claims that this interference must be intentional and must worsen the other’s situation. He claims as much when he says that “when I interfere I make things worse for you, not better. And the worsening that interference involves always has to be more or less intentional in character: it cannot occur by accident.”[8] Thus, in situations where only accidental or positive interference is possible, it violates Pettit’s view to say that there is domination. In describing how a choice situation may be worsened, Pettit provides three variables: options, expected payoffs, and outcomes. Understanding the idea of worsening options is pretty straightforward—Pettit explains this as “changing [for the worse] the range of options available.”[9] For our purposes, the elimination of options fits this criterion. By “worsening the expected payoffs,” Pettit means the attachment of punishment to a certain course of action in order to discourage it. By “worsening the outcomes,” Pettit means attaching punishment to a course of action that has already occurred in order to negatively affect the actual payoffs. Pettit qualifies (b), the condition of arbitrariness, by studying the relative locations of the agent deciding and the person affected (“the other”). He understands an act to be arbitrary if “it is subject just to the arbitrium, the decision or judgment, of the agent,” and moreover, that the action is done “without reference to the interests, or the opinions, of those affected.”[10] In other words, an arbitrary action is one which denies the status of the affected party as a meaningful human being by disregarding their wants and needs. On the other hand, Pettit sees non-arbitrary decisions as those which track, or take into account, the preferences and welfare of the people liable to interference. Pettit explains (c), or “certain decisions the other is able to make,” as a way of compartmentalizing different domains of freedom and domination. He says that the most salient aspect of this clause “is that it mentions certain choices, not all choices. This highlights the fact that someone may dominate another in a certain domain of choice, in a certain sphere or aspect or period of their life, without doing so in all.”[11] In other words, the other can be dominated at work while free in the home, or vice versa; the other can be dominated politically or socially, but not in their decisions of which music to listen to, etc. Pettit holds that domination—and therefore, freedom—can vary in extent, intensity, and across different domains. Domination can be in the form of absolute power over another in many critical domains, limited ability to interfere in largely inconsequential domains, and everything in-between. The intensity of domination varies along both of these dimensions, and though Pettit fails to give an explicit framework for determining an order of severity, he acknowledges, at the very least, that loose hierarchies exist. It is critical to understand that Pettit’s conception of domination is such that interference does not need to be actual in order for there to be unfreedom. At the heart of this view is the fact that the mere ability to interfere engenders unfreedom through domination. He writes that: The possession by someone of dominating power over another—in whatever degree—does not require that the person who enjoys such power actually interferes...it does not require even that the person who enjoys that power is inclined in the slightest measure towards such interference. What constitutes domination is the fact that in some respect the power-bearer has the capacity to interfere arbitrarily, even if they are never going to do so.[12] Here, Pettit explains that unfreedom can occur even without actual interference. Not only does he believe this, but also that unfreedom can occur even where actual interference seems very unlikely. He strongly emphasizes that the mere ability of arbitrary interference, however “small” that interference may be, causes a proportional amount of unfreedom. It is now possible to apply Pettit’s view to Cohen’s analogy. In Pettit’s view, any one person in the room is dominated by any other person in the room. This is true because each person has the relevant capacity to interfere in the relevant way with every other person. Suppose we initially select one person from the hypothetical room, as Cohen does. It is true that they have the capacity to interfere in the relevant sense—intentionally and harmfully. This person could choose to leave the room, thus rendering every other inhabitant finally trapped. In Pettit’s terminology, this certainly worsens their choices, since it removes their choice to leave the room. It is especially clear that this is a worsening of their choices when one recalls that the room stands for the proletariat, and exiting it stands for ascending to a higher class. It is further possible that this person could make their exit in order to intentionally worsen the lives of the other occupants. There is nothing stopping the person from growing resentful of their peers, and seeking to harm them by leaving the room for the sake of finally imprisoning them. Even if this sounds unlikely, it is important to remember that “what constitutes domination is the fact that in some respect the power-bearer has the capacity to interfere arbitrarily, even if they are never going to do so.”[13] Domination is not a question of probability, but rather capacity. Thus, by having the ability to leave the room, the selected person has the ability to intentionally interfere in the lives of the others for the worse. Second, this person may perpetuate this act on a totally arbitrary basis. Nothing forces the person to track the interests of the other occupants of the room when deciding whether or not to leave. They are free to make their decision to leave without any regard for the wants or needs of the others, and can reason purely from their own preferences and needs. Thus, the selected person has the capacity to interfere arbitrarily. Finally, their interference is, indeed, in “certain choices that the others are willing to make.” It is a real decision whether or not the others choose to leave the room. The capacity to arbitrarily interfere centers on this very locus of choice, and thus meets the third criteria for domination. Therefore, the selected person has the capacity to interfere—on an arbitrary basis—in certain choices that the others are in a position to make. But this is just the definition of domination—thus, the selected person dominates the others, which means that each of the others is in a position of domination. In Pettit’s view, this amounts to saying that each of the people in the room is unfree. But as Cohen writes, all this is true of “whomever we select.”[14] Thus, each person in the room dominates all the others, which means every person in the room is in a position of domination. Therefore, every person in the room is individually unfree. This conclusion is the negation of Cohen’s in his “argument 7.” It is worth briefly noting that Pettit generally formulates the dominating relationship between persons. He says that “while a dominated agent, ultimately, will always have to be an individual person or persons, domination may often be targeted on a group or on a corporate agent: it will constitute domination of individual people but in a collective identity or capacity or aspiration.”[15] Thus, the fact that the chosen agent is able to arbitrarily interfere in the same particular domain of choice for multiple other people does not mean it is not domination. A more serious objection to the claim that each person in the room is dominated and therefore unfree, however, is the thought that reciprocal domination over an identical domain of choice is impossible. It seems, prima facie, that because each person is dominating all the others just as much as the others dominate them, all have the same choice options; since the idea of domination seems to intuitively rely on asymmetrical relationships, it would seem that the idea of reciprocal domination is internally inconsistent. This worry may be mitigated in a number of ways. First, it is important to keep in mind the precise definition of domination: X dominates Y if X has the capacity to interfere, on an arbitrary basis, in certain choices Y is in a position to make. There is nothing in this definition which logically excludes it from being a reflexive two-place relation. The intuitive connection with asymmetry can be explained by the fact that the capacity for arbitrary interference is often made possible by asymmetries such as wealth, power, status, and others. Though this is the case, Pettit explicitly mentions that reciprocal power to interfere may be used as a strategy for achieving non-domination. He mentions two possibilities: defense and deterrent. He writes that “the strategy of reciprocal power is to make the resources of dominator and dominated more equal so that, ideally, a previously dominated person can come to defend themselves against any interference on the part of the dominator.”[16] In other words, the dominated party would be able to use their resources to counter the arbitrary interference of the other, and thus, this very possibility would eliminate the capacity of arbitrary interference and dissolve the dominating relation. However, it is not clear how this defensive interference would be possible in Cohen’s analogy, since he assumes that if one tried to leave, “no one would block his way,” and once the original person left the room, no one else could leave in order to finally imprison them.[17] By the very nature of this particular kind of interference, defensive interference—within Cohen’s analogy—is impossible. Pettit himself admits that the “ideal” of defensive interference will rarely materialize. Instead, he discusses retaliation as a second way of using reciprocal power to reduce domination. He says that the dominated agent may be able “at least to threaten any interference with punishment and to impose punishment on actual interferers.”[18] Cohen’s analogy, however, does not speak to such retaliatory interference. Given that the others would be locked in the room, it is hard to see how they would be able to affect the escaped person. Here, though, the analogy breaks down, since there is nothing necessarily physically separating someone who “recently exited the room” (e.g., joined the corporate workforce, or gained control of a company) from the wrath (e.g., physical attack) of their previous fellows. Still, it is not the original situation of reciprocal domination which engenders the possibility of retaliation. The relevant kind of domination—that is, leaving the room and trapping the rest—does not enable retaliation. Ultimately, then, this response has no bearing on the claim that the reciprocal domination must be self-annihilating, since it is not in virtue of this that retaliation is possible. For example, suppose that A and B work in a factory. A hates B, and so A decides to harm B by getting promoted to become the owner of the factory—eliminating B’s ability to do so. B cannot retaliate by also coming to own the factory. The job has been filled; the “room” has been “exited.” Yet, B can destroy A’s property, harass A’s person, or even threaten A’s life. This retaliation does not stem from the original position of reciprocal domination. Thus, Pettit’s only two ways that reciprocal domination might eliminate itself do not find application in Cohen’s scenario. We may safely conclude, then, that all the people in the room are dominated by at least one (and in fact all) of the others, which just means—in Pettit’s view—that each person in the room is individually unfree. It will now be the aim of this essay to motivate Pettit’s view independently from its application to Cohen’s argument. I shall do this by arguing that, even on the negative view of liberty, it is intuitively desirable to expand the horizon of freedom from mere non-interference to non-domination in Pettit’s sense. To begin with, certain kinds of obvious unfreedoms cannot be recognized as such under a negative conception of liberty which only recognizes interference as unfreedom. For instance, consider a slave whose master has not exercised their capacity to arbitrarily interfere in the slave’s life for the worse, and gives no indication that they ever will. Obviously, the slave is unfree, for the slave is a slave. Pettit remarks that: The observation that there can be domination without interference connects with the theme highlighted in the last chapter, that slavery and unfreedom is consistent with non-interference: that it can be realized in the presence of a master or authority who is beneficent, and even benevolent.[19] In other words, the example of the slave under a benevolent (non-interfering) master shows first that a strictly negative view of liberty fails to account for this obvious instance of unfreedom. The strength of Pettit’s view lies in the fact that the reasons we conclude this slave to be unfree are simply that the criteria of domination are met—and this shows the intuitive strength of his view. In elucidating these intuitions, Pettit quotes Richard Price as saying that “individuals in private life, while held under the power of masters, cannot be denominated free, however equitably and kindly they may be treated.”[20] Like Pettit, Price focuses on the persons “under the power of masters,” though not actively interfered with. Being under the power of another, in Price’s sense, certainly seems to imply the master’s capacity to arbitrarily interfere. Analyzing the unfreedom of the slave leads Price to conclude that it is this capacity to be arbitrarily interfered with which engenders unfreedom. Pettit himself characterizes domination as leading to this kind of slavish relationship. In domination, he says, “the powerless are at the mercy of the powerful and not on equal terms. The master-slave scenario will materialize, and the asymmetry between the two sides will become a communicative as well as an objective reality.”[21] Pettit also finds examples of this intuition in Machiavelli and Montesquieu. Machiavelli describes the power of a free community as “the power of enjoying freely his possessions without any anxiety, of feeling no fear for the honor of his women and his children, of not being afraid for himself,” and Montesquieu defines liberty as the “tranquility of spirit which comes from the opinion each one has of his security, and in order for him to have this liberty the government must be such that one citizen cannot fear another citizen.”[22] In both characterizations of freedom, the common denominator is that when the conditions of domination are met—that is, when one has to “bow and scrape,” appease their dominator, and maintain “eternal discretion”—there is personal unfreedom (and vice versa). In other words, it is strongly intuitive to claim “freedom if and only if non-domination.” What Pettit’s definition does is make this intuition explicit. Pettit’s view is further strengthened by accounting for the intuition that a state of freedom should foment equality among the agents by whom it is enjoyed. Pettit often alludes to this intuition by showing the converse: in a dominating relationship, the individuals are not able to look each other in the eye. The dominated person may only assert their equality on the pain of being interfered with, which is to say, they cannot. Similarly, the dominating agent’s power suggests a condescending mindset. More to the point, it seems that domination dehumanizes the dominated, while non-domination forces the would-be dominator to see the other as a person. Pettit says that in a state of non-domination, You do not have to live either in fear of that other, then, or in deference to them. The non-interference you enjoy at the hands of others is not enjoyed by their grace and you do not live at their mercy. You are a somebody in relation to them, not a nobody. You are a person in your own legal and social right.[23] Here, Pettit argues that when one is free from domination, one secures one’s personhood. By this argument, Pettit seeks to directly align non-domination with freedom, as opposed to appealing to the converse, as above. Non-domination seems to imply fundamental equality and restores the relationship to that which holds between equal persons, instead of that which holds between master and slave. Because non-domination shares this intuitive property of freedom, and because of the (above) strong intuitions that the conditions for freedom are those of non-domination, Pettit’s view of freedom of non-domination ought to be accepted. Finally, it should be noticed that the intuitive support for Pettit’s conception of freedom does not trivially apply to the people in Cohen’s analogical room. Since the people in this room are on equal standing, it may seem like there is no room for the master-slave relationship to emerge, that people will be able to meet each other in the eye, and that there can be no degradation of personhood as there is when the domination is truly one-sided. A thought experiment will make clear how the intuitive strength of Pettit’s view holds, even in contexts like Cohen’s analogy in which there is reciprocal inter-domination. Imagine the following situation: persons A, B, and C are in the room. Person A wishes to have an affair with person C and afterwards leave the room. However, person B is jealous of this, and plans to leave the room as soon as the affair commences—if it does—in order to forever imprison A, denying A’s ultimate wish for escape. B makes this known to A. Now, A must appease B by not having an affair with C in order to fulfill their ultimate wish to leave the room. Thus, B dominates A, as A is unable to exercise their individual freedom: in order to exit the room, A must “bow and scrape” to B’s preferences. The mere fact that A also dominates B does not mean that A does not acutely feel the unfreedom of their domination by B. A cannot look B in the eye, because B stands between A and A’s desires. B’s whim determines the fate of A’s life. That A may leave the room, forever trapping B and C, does not negate this fact. All this thought experiment seeks to demonstrate is that the intuitions which locate freedom with non-domination are still present in Cohen’s analogy. Succinctly, these intuitions are first that someone is free if they are able to exercise their freedoms without the approval of another, and unfree if not (which is equivalent to defining freedom as non-domination). This is exactly the case in the analogy of the room: person A is unable to exercise their freedoms because they lack the approval of person B. Backtracking for a moment, the second intuition is that freedom as non-domination accords with the intuition that freedom produces equality. The inverse, that unfreedom induces inequality, also holds in Cohen’s room: precisely because of the possibility of situations such as the above thought experiment, the people in the room will be unable to look each other in the eye. Since this is the inverse, it is hardly a rigorous proof; however, even the inverse demonstrates a correlation between equality and non-domination which certainly does not malign the suggestion that they are equivalent. Suppose instead that the people in the room were individually free, as Cohen claims. Then they would enjoy equality amongst themselves, according to the rule: if there is freedom, then there is equality. When Cohen speaks of the possibility of solidarity among the members of the room—for instance, those who want to rise, not out of the proletariat, but with the proletariat—he asserts the possibility of the consequent, implying the situation is one of genuine freedom. However, two considerations must be noticed. First, the above thought experiment is meant to show that this possibility is nontrivial, and must be argued for. As the experiment shows, there is also a great possibility that there is profound inequality—an inability to “look each other in the eye”—amongst the members of the room. Insofar as this denies the consequent, it speaks to the possibility of the original situation being one of unfreedom. Second, it is important to remember that even if Cohen were able to succeed in proving the possibility of equality amongst the members of the room, it would be fallacious to conclude from this that they were free. Therefore, both of the original intuitions which support Pettit’s particular notion of freedom (respectively, the potentiality of interference and the relationship between freedom and equality) remain relevant to Cohen’s analogy of the room. Since these intuitions remain intact, Pettit’s concepts should still be held in the analogy of the room. Thus the individuals in Cohen’s analogy are individually unfree. Before concluding, it is worth noting that Cohen modifies his analogy in the same paper: in the modified analogy, exactly two people may leave the room. However, this modification leaves the above arguments unaffected. Indeed, as long as there are fewer exits than people in the proletariat, nothing changes. This is because the above arguments remain unchanged if we select two people at random, treat them as a single agent, and then in a similar manner proceed to show that the others are dominated by them, concluding that since they were chosen at random, all are dominated. Pettit has no problem with this kind of strategy, saying that “while a dominating party will always be an agent…it may be a personal or corporate or collective agent: this, as in the tyranny of the majority, where the domination is never the function of a single individual’s power.”[24] Thus, considering the dominating agent as an arbitrary group of people (the exact count of which equals the number of exits from the proletariat) rather than a single individual does not threaten any of the above conclusions. In conclusion, this essay first demonstrated that on Pettit’s view of freedom as non-domination, Cohen’s analogical backing for “argument 7” fails to prove that any proletarian is individually unfree. This is precisely because in this analogy, every person in the room is individually dominated. Assuming, with Cohen, that this analogy accurately represents reality, it is useful to step out of the analogy and towards what it depicts: Cohen begins by saying that there are more exits from the proletariat than proletarians leaving, and thus that any proletarian is individually free to leave the proletariat. Pettit’s view, however, shows how proletarians can hardly be said to enjoy freedom, since they are constantly threatened with losing it based on the arbitrary whims of their peers. Thus, holding Pettit’s view entails rejecting Cohen’s. This essay then argued for the intuitive strength of Pettit’s view, showing first that Pettit’s formulation of freedom matches with common, intuitive formulations, and then showing how the claim that ‘freedom is non-domination’ accurately tracks our intuitions about the relationship between equality and freedom. From this, in the style of modus ponens, it follows that the people in the room are individually unfree. Once again stepping out of the analogy, it follows that proletarians are each and all individually unfree. Endnotes [1] Cohen, G. A. “The Structure of Proletarian Unfreedom.” Philosophy & Public Affairs 12, no. 1 (1983): 9. [2] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 10. [3] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 10. [4] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 13. [5] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 11. [6] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 11. [7] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 14. [8] Pettit, Philip. Republicanism: A Theory of Freedom and Government. (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2010), 52. [9] Pettit, Republicanism, 53. [10] Pettit, Republicanism, 55. [11] Pettit, Republicanism, 58. [12] Pettit, Republicanism, 63. [13] Pettit, Republicanism, 63. [14] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 10 [15] Pettit, Republicanism, 52. [16] Pettit, Republicanism, 67. [17] Cohen, “Proletarian Unfreedom,” 10. [18] Pettit, Republicanism, 67. [19] Pettit, Republicanism, 64. [20] Pettit, Republicanism, 64. [21] Pettit, Republicanism, 61. [22] Pettit, Republicanism, 71. [23] Pettit, Republicanism, 71. [24] Pettit, Republicanism, 52. Bibliography Cohen, G. A. 1983. “The Structure of Proletarian Unfreedom.” Philosophy & Public Affairs 12 (1): 3–33. Pettit, Philip. Republicanism: A Theory of Freedom and Government. Oxford Univ. Press, 2010.

Journal Features Online Features & Interviews Vol. IV | Issue II JPPE Interview Geoff Mulgan Vol. IV | Issue II Foreword Editoral Board Vol. IV | Issue II Vol. IV | Issue I JPPE Interview Danielle Bainbridge Vol. IV | Issue I Vol. III | Issue II Mark Carney The Road to Glasgow is Paved with Data Vol. III | Issue II Douglas Beal The Financial Case for Nations and Corporations to Put People and the Planet First Vol. III | Issue II Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Steven Pinker Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Yanis Varoufakis Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Paul Krugman Vol. II | Issue II Foreword Editorial Board Vol. II | Issue II Vol. II | Issue I Sheldon Whitehouse United States Senator from Rhode Island Vol. II | Issue I Foreword Editorial Board Vol. II | Issue I Vol. I | Issue II Nicola Sturgeon First Minister of Scotland Vol. I | Issue II John R. Allen President of the Brookings Institution Vol. I | Issue II Foreword Editorial Board Vol. I | Issue II Vol. I | Issue I Jorge O. Elorza Mayor of Providence, Rhode Island Vol. I | Issue I Greg Fischer Mayor of Louisville, Kentucky Vol. I | Issue I Foreword Editorial Board Vol. I | Issue I

Bess Markel Rural Despair and Decline: How Trump Won Michigan in 2016 Bess Markel Introduction When Donald Trump won the Electoral College vote in 2016, he shocked the entire world. In part, people believed he could never win because he would never crack the Democrats’ famous “Blue Wall”: the combination of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania. But he did, winning counties that John McCain and Mitt Romney could not. Political pundits asked themselves: How did this entitled, brash, inexperienced New York millionaire appeal to rural voters? What seems like thousands of think-pieces have been written on the issue, each suggesting that Trump won the election because of Russian interference, deeply rooted misogyny, racial backlash to Obama’s presidency, the rise of social media, and a myriad of other factors. However, some scholars have suggested that Trump’s unexpected triumph could be traced to another factor: pain and discontentment across rural America. Over the past several decades, America’s working class has seen its way of life disappear. With a loss of jobs due to innovative technology, outsourcing of manufacturing jobs, and mass migration out of Rust Belt states, residents of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Wisconsin—areas that used to be vibrant parts of America’s heartland—feel left behind (1). Some believe that this downward trajectory helped spark the rise of Trump. While this might seem counterintuitive at first because Trump is viewed by the liberal media as an uncaring, East Coast elite, scholars have strived to understand the appeal of Trump among working-class, white voters, particularly in the Midwest. This line of research is particularly important for the future of electoral politics. The movement Trump’s election sparked, and even Trump himself, are not going away anytime soon. Understanding Trump’s appeal can explain his continued support and how other candidates can seize upon the movement he built. This research paper will explore the connection between despair and the rise of Donald Trump. It will use data on unemployment, education levels, and levels of drug- and alcohol-related deaths and suicide taken from the swing state of Michigan, which narrowly helped Trump win the 2016 election. The data section will show that Trump performed better in places where residents seemed more likely to feel economically and socially left behind. However, we must first classify and understand what scholars mean when they discuss despair in rural, working-class America. Understanding Rural Support for Trump Political scientist Katherine Cramer, in her book Politics of Resentment, argues that rural politics can be understood as stemming from the creation of a rural community consciousness, rooted in resentment toward “elites” and urbanites (2). Through interviews with a group of locals in rural Wisconsin, Cramer discovered what rural consciousness looks like and defines it as three sentiments: caring about perspectives of power, primarily that urban areas have all of it and rural areas have none; respect for the “rural way of life”; and the perspective that too few resources are allocated to rural areas (3). All in all, her definition of rural community consciousness paints a picture of rural Americans feeling that urban Americans, and by extension government officials who are overly influenced by urban values, have no respect for their way of life, and are draining rural resources and livelihoods through welfare programs and other legislative efforts that advantage urban areas. This perceived allocation of resources toward exclusively urban areas is not actually the case, and many government funds and programs target rural areas. However, governmental bodies do not always prioritize marketing their budget allocations and as a result many rural communities are uninformed about the inner workings of the political system. In addition, because rural Americans are disillusioned, they have low desire to learn about government activities, leading these causal beliefs to go unchallenged and unresearched (4). This breakdown in communication and understanding has long-reaching effects. The Republican Party has seized upon these sentiments to further its agenda. Many rural Americans are wary of governmental employees and programs that they view as elite and guilty of stealing rural money for personal or political gain (5). Journalist Thomas Frank understands the power of rural resentment but argues that it is not necessarily about a lack of understanding of budgetary inner workings or community anger but is rather about character assessment. He asserts that while resentment and hostility are important in understanding the rural vote, the most crucial factor is actually authenticity.6 Republicans, he argues, have successfully rebranded Democrats as out-of-touch city elites worthy of scorn. Even as Republican political figures push legislation that hurts working-class Americans, they successfully market themselves as relatable, the politicians that a voter would want to have a beer with (7). This authenticity wins them voters despite their lack of concrete political achievements for lower-income, working-class Americans. When putting these scholarly findings in conversation with the campaign message on which Trump ran, it is easy to see how in 2016 Trump played upon the resentment and despair of rural areas by framing the Democrats, and by extension the urban liberal elite, as the cause for all problems. Throughout the campaign, Trump had a habit of saying exactly what was on his mind, perhaps giving him an air of over-a-beer-authenticity and relatability—he certainly appeared honest due to his unfiltered dialogue. Moreover, his lack of political experience likely worked in his favor in areas where government officials are seen as untrustworthy. By contrast, his opponent, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, had held governmental office at various levels for many years, which played into Trump’s painting of her in the eyes of many rural communities as an urban elite living off the people’s hard earned money. Further complicating the relationship between rural and urban areas is the perception that urban areas are more liberal or have different ways of life. Sociologist Jennifer M. Silva argues that some rural voting patterns can be explained by the considerable amount of fear that exists in many of these places, both around shrinking economic opportunities and the general future of communities (8). This fear often manifests itself as a feeling that America must return to “disciplined values” such as hard work, or worries that immigrants are stealing all the well-paying jobs. In his campaign, Trump certainly identified these fears (9). This could be seen in his harsh anti-immigrant rhetoric, seemingly placing the blame on them for the lack of decent-paying jobs. Trump also emphasized his skills as a businessman, arguing that they would help him run the country and increase the job market. Many authors believe that Trump’s strong performance in rural counties can be explained by the “landscapes of despair” theory, arguing that all of the areas in which Trump over-performed or Clinton underperformed have experienced immense social, economic, and health declines over the past several decades. These authors believe that Trump appeals to voters who are not necessarily the poorest in America but whose lives are worse off than they were several decades ago (10). Trump spoke to that pain and offered these Americans a message that appealed to their despair. Goetz, Partridge, and Stephens find that economic conditions have changed over time throughout rural communities, with urban centers becoming more prominent and fewer agricultural jobs available. However, they find that not all rural areas are doing uniformly poorly economically across America. Instead, there has been “profound structural change” in most of these areas in terms of the types of employment available (11). This structural change could contribute to the feeling among many rural Americans of having been left behind and could also explain some of the draw to Trump’s nationalism, as trade and increased globalization, along with new technology, have contributed to this extreme change (12). Goodwin, Kuo, and Brown agree with this theory and find a correlation be- tween higher rates of opioid addiction in a county and the percent of the county that voted for Trump (13). They found that opioid addiction is one way to measure the sociocultural and economic factors that often created support for Trump and noted that simple unemployment measurements fail to capture this same trend. These two pieces of data imply that the voting patterns of Trump’s supporters do not correspond with being worse off economically than the rest of America, but rather are related to whether people personally feel like they and their communities are backsliding, with opioid addiction as an indicator of this attitude. Gollust and Miller argue that the opioid crisis triggered support for Trump, not necessarily because it is a measurement of sociocultural factors within communities, but because it triggered a comparison in the minds of people living in communities where the crisis was rampant (14). Through experimentation, Gollust and Miller found that Republicans and Trump supporters were more likely than Democrats to view whites as the political losers in the country (15). It is easy to see how Trump’s aggressive rhetoric appealed to people who felt like they were losing and that they needed a fighter to advocate for them. Journalists and Political Research Associates Berlet and Sunshine believe that Trump’s rise can be attributed to changing ways of life and Trump’s connection to right-wing populism (16). They argue that there was a rise in the notion that the white-Christian-heterosexual-American way of life is “under threat” in the years preceding the election. They believe that Trump’s brash candidness, his willing- ness to invoke Islamophobia, homophobia, and xenophobia, and his appeals to Christianity and the patriarchy tapped into a deep-simmering rage that had been growing among rural people (17). In this way, white racial antagonism contributed to Trump’s success. Rural Americans redirected their despair into rage toward those individuals and collectives that they perceived as a threat to their way of life. This argument is heavily focused on the effects of bigotry and anger on people’s voting choices, whereas several other authors, such as Cramer and Frank, believe that rural support for Trump was much less rage-based and much more about a lack of trust in government and the feeling of being neglected for years. We believe that the theories of despair and feelings of backsliding can explain some of the trend toward rural support for Trump in 2016. We believe that data will show that the most important despair factors depict not how badly off a community was in 2016, but rather the comparative: how much worse off it was in 2016 compared to several decades earlier. Finally, we agree with Cramer’s theory of rural consciousness and feel that it may have played a role in general distrust for Clinton as a candidate, but found it impossible to test those attitudes given the data available. Methodology To test the effect of rural pain and despair in connection to GOP voting share in Michigan, we used data at the county level, primarily from 2016, which came from the United States Census Bureau and the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation (18). We focused specifically on the 2016 election because of the connection between Donald Trump’s share of the vote and struggling rural voters, which was higher than previous GOP candidates Mitt Romney and John McCain (19), as well as Trump’s reputation as an outsider (20). We chose to look at data from all Michigan counties, regardless of which candidate the county voted for or whether the county flipped parties between 2012 and 2016. We chose not to look exclusively at flipped counties because Trump flipped only twelve counties in Michigan. In order to obtain a statistically significant and unbiased result about the effects despair factors had on county result data, more than twelve data points were needed. We instead measured the effect of despair factors on the vote share that Trump received in each county in 2016. We defined six despair factors to represent the challenges and pains each county faced at the time of, or leading up to, the 2016 election. The first three of these factors are defined as the percent change in age-standardized mortality rates be- tween 1980 and 2014 for the following: alcohol use disorders, drug use disorders, and self-harm injuries ( alcoholchange , drugchange , and selfchange , respectively). The source from which we obtained information on drug use disorder–related fatalities did not provide a breakdown by substance so we are unable to determine how much of this factor can be attributed to the ongoing opioid crisis. However, due to the sweeping nature of the crisis, particularly in rural working-class communities, we believe there is some relationship between the drug-use-disorder mortality rate and the opioid crisis (21). Factors that measure changes in living conditions over time, such as changes in fatal overdoses, alcohol deaths, and suicides, will test whether despair is truly about voters’ communities becoming worse than they were before. The fourth despair factor ( undereducated ) represents the education level of each county, using the percent of adults over 18 whose highest educational attainment in 2014 was a high school degree or less. This is an important factor to examine while exploring despair because lower levels of education limit career and income options and are often correlated with greater instances of feeling trapped or stuck in a community (22). The final two factors in the exploration are unemployment and the percentage of the county population that died of any cause in 2016. This last factor is important to consider because higher death rates often show that a county has an aging population and can accordingly suggest that younger people are choosing to leave. If the theories described above are true, unemployment should not matter as much because the “landscapes of despair” theory focuses on decline in communities and in economic opportunities, meaning many voters could be employed but working longer hours, harder jobs, getting paid less, or feeling like they have fewer opportunities than they once did. To test this we ran the same statistical analysis for unemployment but specifically looked at whether the variable was statistically significant in predicting the Trump vote. If it was not, that would prove Goodwin, Kuo, and Brown’s theory that unemployment is not the best measure of Trump’s support in 2016. We used two statistical methods of analysis. First, we used histograms to compare a single despair factor, such as percent change in alcohol use disorder–related deaths, against the way that the county voted in 2016 to see if certain factors of despair disproportionately affected one party’s vote share. Second, we used the regression equation below to test our hypothesis that the six aforementioned despair factors led to Trump’s higher vote share in Michigan. Finally, we analyzed the despair factors individually to show their discrete effects on the GOP vote share in Michigan’s 2016 election. TRUMPSHAREi = β0 + β1DRUGCHANGEi + β2ALCOHOLCHANGEi + β3SELFCHANGEi + β4UNDEREDUCATEDi +β5UNEMPLOYMENTi +β6PRCNTDEATHSi +εi We fit the model using the county-level data we gathered to examine whether the test statistic led us to reject or fail to reject the null hypothesis that there is no relationship between these six despair factors and the percent of the vote share that Trump received in Michigan in 2016. We also used the R-squared from this regression to determine how strong the linear relationship of the regression equation was. Results and Discussion The results we found conclusively show that we can reject the null hypothesis that there is no relationship between the six despair factors and Trump’s success in a county. The first statistical method we used was comparing histograms of each factor broken down by party identification. We found graphical evidence to suggest that death rates, suicide, undereducation, and unemployment were disproportionately higher in Republican counties. Changes in alcohol and drug deaths ( alcoholchange and drugchange ) did not seem to be strongly correlated with one specific party, though counties that voted very strongly for Republicans did seem to have the highest values (highest percent changes from 1980 to 2014) for both of these variables. In some respects, the fact that many of these despair factors were higher in counties that voted Republican makes sense. By 2016, Barack Obama had been president for eight years, and often people who are unhappy with how the economy has been faring or who are unemployed vote for the candidate from the opposite party of the sitting president. However, large values of other factors, such as percent change in deaths from self-harm, are more alarming, as these first three variables measure changes dating back to the 1980s. We were surprised that alcohol and drug deaths seemed to be more evenly spread out between the parties than self-mortality, which was particularly unexpected due to the amount of literature on the correlation between those affected by the opioid epidemic and votes for Trump (23). Perhaps Goodwin, Kuo, and Brown’s theory that increased opioid usage is a good instrumental variable for Trump support still holds because this data only looks at drug mortality, not drug use. It is entirely possible that Trump counties have higher drug use, but we could not make a conclusion based on the data (24). However, due to the large percentage of drug overdoses that can be attributed to the opioid crisis, it is surprising that more of Gollust and Miller’s and Goodwin, Kuo, and Brown’s theories did not seem to be supported in this data set (25). The 3-D graphs in the appendix look at the relationships between the vote share that Trump received and percent changes in alcohol, drug, and self-harm mortality rates (26). The regression planes on these 3-D graphs show that percent change in self-harm mortality is the only variable with a clearly positive relationship to Trump votes. The other two changes in mortality variables have weaker linear relationships with Trump votes in part due to several county outliers. Exploring those outlier counties more and investigating why specifically they might not follow the common trend would be an interesting topic for ethnographic research. When we ran the regression analysis the first time, we included all six of the variables we categorized as measures of despair. We also ran the regression analysis with different combinations of these variables to see if we could increase the adjusted R-squared variable, which shows the accuracy of adding another variable to the model. We found that the model was most accurate when we excluded the unemployment value, and because its t-test statistic was not statistically significant, we made the decision to exclude it from the final regression we ran in order to have a more accurate model. At first, we were surprised that unemployment was not significant in the model; however, this seems to support the theory that many “despair voters” do have jobs—they are just low paying and highly stressful (27). This supports Goodwin, Kuo, and Brown’s analysis that the unemployment level is not a good measurement alone of whether a county voted heavily for Trump. More- over, the histogram shows that high levels of unemployment are not necessarily correlated with high percentages of the vote going to Trump. Clearly, there are other factors at play that this statistic fails to capture, and unemployment could be an incomplete benchmark for despair because it does not measure satisfaction in jobs nor whether a job pays a living wage. Overall, we found that a model with the five factors of despair besides unemployment gave an R-squared of .552, meaning that 55% of the variance among the percentage of votes Trump won in a certain county could be attributed to these factors alone. This is remarkably high considering that neither policies nor previous voting records were added into this regression. However, the only variables that were found to be statistically significant on their own were percent changes in self-harm deaths and percent of undereducated voters. We were surprised that percent changes in alcohol and fatal drug overdoses were not more significant than changes in self-harm deaths, but again, that could be partially attributed to the fact that the data only measures overdoses rather than frequency of use. While one would assume that there would be a positive representative relationship between the two, it is hard to know for sure. However, we can say that, on average, increases in despair in certain aspects of life are correlated with an increase in support for Trump in the 2016 election, supporting the original hypothesis of this paper that rural despair played into Trump’s win in Michigan in 2016. However, we fail to find definitive conclusions regarding some of the connections drawn in previous scholarly literature between opioid overdose and the Trump vote. Perhaps the most striking analysis is running the same regression but with Democratic vote share in the 2016 election and comparing the results with those from the Republican vote share. As seen in the table below, the coefficients for each variable nearly flip signs. A decrease in suicide-, alcohol-, and drug-related deaths, or other despair factors, can be expected on average to be associated with a positive increase among the percentage of the county “voting blue.” Counties that vote Democratic, at least on average, tend to have had some sort of positive change, on the individual or communal level, around certain measures of despair (28). This does not mean that Clinton voters were necessarily better off than all Trump voters across Michigan, but rather that Clinton voters had seen their lives improve, if only marginally, and Trump voters had not. Theories of despair regarding rural voters do not compare the lives of rural voters to those of voters in other areas of the state but rather investigate whether rural communities are worse off than they were several decades ago. Similarly, just because certain counties have seen an improvement in certain despair factors does not mean that their communities are not also grappling with alcohol, drug, and mental health issues. Additionally, better-educated counties tend to vote Democratic, with less-educated counties voting Republican. This is a reversal of certain historical trends (29). Again, at some level it is logical that voters who are doing better vote for the party that has been in power for the past several years. However, the data in these studies capture decades of crumbling communities. There is a downward trend in these communities in terms of levels of despair that shows that regardless of which party these counties vote for (whether they vote for the opposite party when they feel dissatisfied with the current one, or for the same party when things seem to be going well), neither party has been able to stop the 34-year trends of increases in suicide-, drug-, and alcohol-caused deaths. This validates theories of “rural consciousness” and “rural despair” by Cramer and Goetz, Partridge, and Stephens that rural communities clearly see and feel suffering in their communities and perceive a lack of attention and resources given to them (30). One could also argue that this supports Silva’s theory that many rural communities fear for their futures based on the downward spiral these communities have experienced for several years or decades (31). This fear could motivate voters to act more drastically or to believe that a massive change is necessary. In the voting booth, this could lead to their voting for a more unconventional candidate. Trump’s main slogan was “Make America Great Again,” suggesting that, at some level, he understood and was trying to court those experiencing this sense of despair. For many voters, America is the best it has ever been: we have unprecedented levels of rights and acceptance for women, minorities, and members of the LGBTQ+ community. Going back seems like regression, not progress. But as shown by this data, many of the counties that voted for Trump in 2016 were better off by certain metrics in 1980 than they are now. It makes sense that residents of these counties could be worried about the continuing decline of their communities and could want to go back to a better time and quality of life. Not to mention, according to Cramer’s thesis of rural consciousness, voters in rural Michigan could be very distrustful of any type of governmental employee promising change. Trump’s brand as a businessman with no prior political experience could have especially appealed to those affected by rural-consciousness thinking. His role as an outsider was relatable. His phrase “drain the swamp” directly spoke to the prevailing belief in these communities that Washington, DC is full of people who take taxpayers’ money and waste time. His opponent had been in the public eye for years in various government positions and was by extension seen, and marketed by conservative news outlets, as the leader of the “liberal elite.” Particularly in contrast with her, Trump could have seemed particularly appealing to those rural voters. The data we found strongly supports Cramer’s thesis that rural despair and resentment led to the crumbling of the Blue Wall. In order for Democrats to rebuild their former strongholds in these states, the party must examine the real pain and anger that many rural voters experience. They need to understand the hopeless- ness people are feeling and recognize why Trump specifically appeals to them. Trump, and the Republican Party, have been strategic in tapping into the anger, fear, and pain that rural voters feel. Democrats contributed to the phenomenon of rural consciousness and the belief that Democrats are coastal elites who neither care about nor understand middle America (32). Clinton and other Democrats have made several public missteps, including making fun of these voters, that have further reinforced this idea. Trump has succeeded in directing rural voters’ anger and mistrust toward the government, specifically bureaucracy and governmental programs that could actually help rural areas. Overall, Democrats need to strengthen their relationship with white working-class voters, and understanding rural despair and consciousness might be the first step to doing so. They need to consider creating messages that specifically address and appeal to rural voters and find and support candidates who can connect with them. To win back rural voters, Democrats also need to focus on messaging in rural America. That includes creating programs that provide resources and relief to these struggling areas, but also, perhaps more importantly, it requires making sure that rural communities are aware of these resources. If rural communities still view government as ineffective and uninterested in their problems, these programs will not be sufficient. It will take significant effort and messaging on behalf of Democrats to convince enough voters that the Democrats’ party, not Trump’s, actually represents rural Americans’ best interests. While President Biden managed to do this in 2020, very narrowly, it remains to be seen whether other Democratic candidates will be able to or will even want to capitalize on this messaging. It also remains to be seen which candidates will seem authentic to rural voters—clearly this was a big factor in Trump’s victory and was maybe an even bigger factor contributing to Clinton’s loss. Going forward, the Democrats will need to support candidates who can reach rural voters effectively and authentically, which remains a tall order. While Trump, not establishment Republicans, created a new coalition that drew on rural pain and despair, it would be naive to assume that the Republican Par- ty will not continue to take advantage of rural despair to win elections. Since Trump’s defeat, the messaging of the Republican Party has remained largely the same as when Trump was in office. If Democrats do not devote resources to successfully addressing these voters, they will have to accept the possibility that their once reliable Blue Wall will fall again or will never be rebuilt, and they will need to find another sizable coalition of voters to target in order to win elections at every single level. Appendix Endnotes 1 Pottie-Sherman, “Rust and Reinvention,” 2. 2 Cramer, The Politics of Resentment, 11. 3 Ibid., 54. 4 Cramer and Toff, “The Fact of Experience.” 5 Cramer, Politics of Resentment, 127. 6 Frank, What’s the Matter with Kansas?, 113. 7 Thomas, What’s the Matter with Kansas?, 119. 8 Silva, We’re Still Here, 45. 9 Inglehart and Norris, “Trump and the Populist Authoritarian Parties.” 10 Monnat and Brown, “More than a Rural Revolt.” 11 Goetz, Partridge, and Stephens, “The Economic Status of Rural America in the President Trump Era and Beyond,” 101. 12 Ibid, 117. 13 Goodwin et al., “Association of Chronic Opioid Use With Presidential Voting Patterns in US Counties in 2016,” e180450. 14 Gollust, and Miller, “Framing the Opioid Crisis: Do Racial Frames Shape Beliefs of Whites Losing Ground?” Journal of Health Politics, Policy and Law 45, no. 2 (April 2020): 241-276. 15 Gollust, and Miller, “Framing the Opioid Crisis: Do Racial Frames Shape Beliefs of Whites Losing Ground?” 16 Berlet and Sunshine, “Rural Rage,” 480–82. 17 Ibid, 490. 18 Foster-Molina and Warren, Partisan Voting, County Demographics, and Deaths of Despair Data. 19 Monnat, “Deaths of Despair and Support for Trump in the 2016 Presidential Election.” 20 Cramer, Politics of Resentment, 127-137. 21 Florian Sichart et al., “The Opioid Crisis and Republican Vote Share.” 22 Autor, Katz, and Kearney, “The Polarization of the U.S. Labor Market.” 23 Goodwin et al., “Association of Chronic Opioid Use With Presidential Voting Patterns in US Counties in 2016,” e180450. 24 Ibid. 25 Imtiaz et al., “Recent Changes in Trends of Opioid Overdose Deaths in North America.” 26 Created with the help of Ella Foster-Molina. 27 Torraco, “The Persistence of Working Poor Families in a Changing U.S. Job Market.” 28 We do not mean to suggest that Democratic voters do not face their own share of struggles, rather that this data on average suggests that counties that voted Democratic were less affected by these specific measures of despair in 2016. 29 Harris, “America Is Divided by Education.” 30 Goetz, Partridge, and Stevens, “The Economic Status of Rural America in the President Trump Era and Beyond.” Applied Economic Perspectives and Policy 40, no. 1 (February 16, 2018). 31 Kim Parker et al., “Similarities and Differences between Urban, Suburban and Rural Communities in America.” 32 Cramer, Politics of Resentment, 127-137. Bibliography Autor, David H, Lawrence F Katz, and Melissa S Kearney. “The Polarization of the U.S. Labor Market.” American Economic Review 96, no. 2 (April 1, 2006): 189–94. https://doi.org/10.1257/000282806777212620. Berlet, Chip, and Spencer Sunshine. “Rural Rage: The Roots of Right-Wing Populism in the United States.” The Journal of Peasant Studies 46, no. 3 (April 16, 2019): 480–513. https://doi.org/10.1080/03066150.2019.1572603. Cramer, Katherine J. The Politics of Resentment: Rural Consciousness in Wisconsin and the Rise of Scott Walker . Chicago Studies in American Politics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2016. Cramer, Katherine J., and Benjamin Toff. “The Fact of Experience: Rethinking Political Knowledge and Civic Competence.” Perspectives on Politics 15, no. 3 (September 2017): 754–70. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1537592717000949. Florian Sichart, Jacob Chapman, Brooklyn Han, Hasan Younis, and Hallamund Meena. “The Opioid Crisis and Republican Vote Share.” LSE Undergraduate Political Review , February 13, 2021. https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/ lseupr/2021/02/13/the-opioid-crisis-and-republican-vote-share/. Foster-Molina and Warren. Partisan Voting, County Demographics, and Deaths of De- spair Data , February 2019. Frank, Thomas. What’s the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. 1st ed. New York: Metropolitan Books, 2004. Goetz, Stephan J, Mark D Partridge, and Heather M Stephens. “The Economic Status of Rural America in the President Trump Era and Beyond.” Applied Economic Perspectives and Policy 40, no. 1 (March 2018): 97–118. https://doi. org/10.1093/aepp/ppx061. Goodwin, James S., Yong-Fang Kuo, David Brown, David Juurlink, and Mukaila Raji. “Association of Chronic Opioid Use With Presidential Voting Pat- terns in US Counties in 2016.” JAMA Network Open 1, no. 2 (June 22, 2018): e180450. https://doi.org/10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2018.0450. Harris, Adam. “America Is Divided by Education.” The Atlantic, November 7, 2018. https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2018/11/educa-tion-gap-explains-american- politics/575113/. Imtiaz, Sameer, Kevin D. Shield, Benedikt Fischer, Tara Elton-Marshall, Bundit Sornpaisarn, Charlotte Probst, and Jürgen Rehm. “Recent Changes in Trends of Opioid Overdose Deaths in North America.” Substance Abuse Treatment, Prevention, and Policy 15, no. 1 (December 2020): 66. https://doi. org/10.1186/s13011-020-00308-z. Inglehart, Ronald, and Pippa Norris. “Trump and the Populist Authoritarian Par- ties: The Silent Revolution in Reverse.” Perspectives on Politics 15, no. 2 (June 2017): 443–54. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1537592717000111. Kim Parker, Juliana Horowitz, Anna Brown, Richard Fry, D’Vera Cohn, and Ruth Igielnik. “Similarities and Differences between Urban, Suburban and Rural Communities in America.” Pew Research Center’s Social & Demographic Trends Project. Pew Research Center, May 22, 2018. https:// www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2018/05/22/what-unites-and-di- vides- urban-suburban-and-rural-communities/. Monnat, Shannon M. “Deaths of Despair and Support for Trump in the 2016 Presidential Election,” 2016. https://doi.org/10.13140/RG.2.2.27976.62728. Monnat, Shannon M., and David L. Brown. “More than a Rural Revolt: Landscapes of Despair and the 2016 Presidential Election.” Journal of Rural Studies 55 (October 2017): 227–36. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jrur- stud.2017.08.010. Pottie-Sherman, Yolande. “Rust and Reinvention: Im/migration and Urban Change in the American Rust Belt.” Geography Compass 14, no. 3 (December 7, 2019). https://doi.org/10.1111/gec3.12482. Silva, Jennifer M. We’re Still Here: Pain and Politics in the Heart of America . New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2019. Torraco, Richard J. “The Persistence of Working Poor Families in a Changing U.S. Job Market: An Integrative Review of the Literature.” Human Re- source Development Review 15, no. 1 (March 2016): 55–76. https://doi. org/10.1177/1534484316630459. Previous Next

Margherita Pescarin Kierkegaard’s advice on how to subjectively relate to the uncertainty of death: The “right” way is the pathless way Margherita Pescarin In Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych , Ivan Ilych, struck by a terminal illness, comes “face to face with his own mortality and realizes that, although he knows of it, he does not truly grasp it,” (1) since “death is always uncertain ” (2). For the purposes of this essay, I will show how Ivan Ilych can effectively grasp the uncertainty of his own death. Firstly, I will illustrate how, according to Kierkegaard’s pseudonym, Climacus, in Concluding Unscientific Postscript , one can subjectively seek knowledge of what it is to die by using the concept of essential knowing —that is, by asking what death “means to you” as an individual whose essence is existence. Secondly, I will apply Climacus’ teachings to clarify how Ivan Ilych managed to subjectively relate to the uncertainty of death by seizing the moment in passion at the end of his life. I draw from the model of the servant Gerasim, a character in Tolstoy’s novella. Lastly, I will consider a problematic contradiction in Kierkegaard’s philosophy that might arise when one attempts to subjectively relate to the uncertainty of death. Yet, I argue that one needs to be charitable in criticizing Kierkegaard’s philosophical project. His works , because he wrote under pseudonyms, and his life , because he failed to become a knight of Christian faith, are merely suggestions for becoming subjec- tive: the “highest task set for human beings” (3). Therefore, I advise Ivan Ilych that the “right” way to grasp the objective uncertainty of death is to seize the moment in passion for the infinite by taking the pathless way . To understand how Ivan Ilych can subjectively seek knowledge of what it is to die, I will clarify the distinction between the objective and subjective search for knowledge. Granted that there are significant objective truths “out there” in the world—say, mathematical laws, for example—Climacus claims that what matters is not the objective truth itself, but how human beings as existing in the world relate to these objective truths. Individuals can relate to them either by objective reflection or subjective reflection (4). Early modern epistemologists, such as Descartes, took the path of objective reflection to tackle the fundamental question of how to gain knowledge. They chose to mirror truth as an object disconnected from the individual human being. This objective mode of reflection creates an impersonal relation between subject and object, which philosopher Rick Furtak calls “the scandal of modern philosophy,” because it over-theorizes truth, remaining indifferent to the subject’s existence.5 Suppose I, an epistemic agent, relate to the physical law “water boils at 100°C” by objective reflection, meaning I come to know the law abstractly . There is no interest for me in knowing that “water boils at 100°C,” unless I can make it personal to my own life by understanding—hence knowing— how to use this law. For example, by concretely applying the law to my everyday life because I want to boil rice, I’ve come to make this law personal to my life. What matters to me, as an individual who exists in the world, is how I can relate to the objective truth that “water boils at 100°C” by subjective reflection , or better, by subjectively seeking knowledge . Simply put, if the law sits in a textbook, I might learn it by memory, relating to it objectively as an abstract piece of knowledge in my mind. Only when I relate to it subjectively, by applying it in a concrete situation of life, do I come to know the law by heart. Conversely, the path of subjective reflection implies that knowledge belongs to the individual who essentially exists in the world, someone whose existence is the fundamental and first feature of being alive in the world. Thus, the knower is the one who exists because existing is what is essential. Climacus refers to this knowledge acquired by subjective reflection as essential knowing . This is also known as the ethical knowledge “that relates to the knower, who is essentially someone existing” (6). Ethical knowledge is the most important kind of knowledge for Climacus because it forces us to think about our own existence, the fundamental feature of being human. To demonstrate the importance of ethical knowledge, Climacus recalls the figure of Socrates, whose merit was “to be an existing thinker, not a speculator who forgets what it is to exist” (7). Socrates was concerned with obtaining practical wisdom rather than acquiring items of theoretical knowledge simply for the sake of knowing. As someone who existed, Socrates was interested in what existence meant to him and how he ought to live a “good” life as an “active” moral agent rather than a “passive” observer (8). On this line of thought, Climacus asserts that “the ethical [i.e. becoming subjective] is [...] the highest task for human beings,” (9) which is “over only when life itself is over” (10). As a result, the ethical question humans cannot dismiss is what it is to die (11). To grasp what it is to die, Climacus lists ordinary beliefs people hold about death (12). For instance, people believe there are different kinds of deaths. Science states that with death comes rigor mortis : post-mortem rigidity. That is an instance of understanding death by objective reflection. However, Climacus argues that when one inquires into death by objective reflection one can learn countless objective facts about death and yet remain “very far from having grasped death” (13). As a result, Climacus says that death is objectively uncertain. The problem with death being so uncertain is that the fear associated with this uncertainty spreads “into every thought” (14). Especially, “[i]f death is always uncertain, if I am mortal, then this uncertainty cannot be understood in general terms,” because someone living cannot approach death without dying (15). Hence, the solution Climacus proposes is to undertake subjective appropriation of objective uncertainty. Firstly, to grasp death, one must think about it in every moment of his life, “for since [the uncertainty of death] is there at every moment, it can only be overcome by [one’s] overcoming it at every moment” (16). Again, since the fear associated with not knowing what to expect of death in objective terms is always there, one must always confront this fear in order to overcome it. Moreover, one should not simply ask what it is to die, but rather what death “means to me.” This suggests there is an ethical question involved in how to give meaning to the uncertainty of death by actively thinking about it—that is, in forming an intention of how to live a “good” and meaningful life before death comes. As Climacus articulates it, in thinking about the objective uncertainty of death in every moment of one’s life, the living individual prepares himself to die and alters his perspective on how he ought to live (17). Above all, stated by Climacus, the single best way to subjectively relate to the objective uncertainty of death is to seize the moment in passion (18). In The Concept of Anxiety , another Kierkegaardian pseudonym, Vigilius, argues that the moment is the eternal figurative place in which “time and eternity touch each other, and with this the concept of temporality is posited” (19). That is, when the finite time and the infinite eternity clash, they produce the present moment. When a present moment adds to another present moment and so on, temporality is created. Furthermore, as Mark Bernier highlights, this temporality is “neither determined by the future nor the past, but remains open,” which means that the moments which make up temporality are always present (20). And, in their being always present, they are eternal . However, paraphrasing the Latin poet Horace: while we speak, the present moment will already have fled (21). To make the present moment the eternal moment, one has to seize it in passion for the infinite . Let me explain what I mean by using another passage by Horace. When I say that one has to seize the present moment in passion for the infinite to make it eternal, I am referring to an analogous meaning to Horace’s quote carpe diem . That means to grab the present moment: to make it eternal before it is too late. Similarly, to seize the moment in passion for the infinite is to turn the present moment into eternity before death comes. Seizing the moment in passion for the infinite is, according to Climacus, “the highest truth [...] for someone existing” (22). That is because, for Climacus, it corresponds to the highest subjective stage of existence: the ethico-religious stage. The other two existential stages in order correspond to the aesthetic and the ethical stage. In the aesthetic stage the individual is immersed in sensorial experiences and exposed to the infinite possibilities of imagination that give him short-term pleasure. In the ethical stage the individual needs to choose one of these possibilities, in order to have a meaningful and particular existence. That is, to subjectively relate to the uncertainty of death. Finally, in the ethico-religious stage, the objective uncertainty of death is overcome by having faith : in Climacus’ words, trusting in God’s will that whatever happens will be good for you (23). For Kierkegaard personally, seizing the moment in passion for the infinite meant overcoming this uncertainty with Christian faith —a blind faith in God—to reach the ethico-religious stage of existence. However, Bernier rightly points out that, although it is not immediately clear, Climacus could seize the moment in passion for the infinite at the ethical stage of existence too. For Bernier, “the highest rational stage, [...] is to make a wholehearted commitment to something” more general: to choose a passion that allows the individual to make sense of their own life (24). This choice, though, does not need to be the commitment to God that Kierkegaard tried to make in his life. Again, Bernier notices that it all depends on “the attitude one takes with respect to” the task of living a “good” life, independently of faith in God (25). Overall, Bernier thinks that Climacus allows for different ways to seize the moment in passion for the infinite, as long as one makes a wholehearted commitment to something. In The Death of Ivan Ilych , as an imminent death approaches, the protagonist Ivan Ilych realizes he did not have the “right” attitude towards life. During his life, Ilyich worked as a functionary of the Russian state in the nineteenth century. From the outside it looks like Ilyich had the most decent life: a respectable job, a loving family, and a close group of friends. However, we soon learn this is all a façade. Ilyich’s main goal is to be accepted by the members of the Russian aristocratic society and to constantly increase his wage. We also learn how few and superficial Ilyich’s interests are, including drinking and betting. One day, though, Ilyich suffers a terrible accident that radically changes his life. After falling from a chair, he begins to suffer from an invisible pain that no doctor can cure, and soon this pain turns into a terminal illness. A few days away from his death, the delirious Ilyich starts thinking about death and realizes his life has been a failure. His friends do not care about him; they only care to gossip about his illness. He will not be remembered by anyone for his dull and average career. He cannot even take pride in a loving relationship with his closest relatives because they only care about his inheritance. When the illness strikes him, Ilych knows he has to die, having learned from a textbook that “Caius is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caius is mortal,” but he is not able to grasp this abstract item of knowledge (26). The way he relates to the fact of death is utterly objective. It seems impossible to him, a concrete human, that death could concern him too. Similarly, his family and friends deceive themselves by believing death does not concern them. In facing the reality of his imminent death, a desperate Ilych asks himself general questions such as, “[W]hen I am not, what will there be?” (27). But, as Climacus demonstrated, there is no objective answer to Ilych’s question of what happens when one is dead, as no one survives to witness it (28). Eventually, the attitude of love, compassion, and pity Gerasim, his servant, shows to him forces Ilych to understand that his life was a waste because he did not live as he should have. By taking care of him as his death approaches, Gerasim shows Ilyich what he lacked in his life. Indeed, Ilyich never took care of others with genuine concern, but only cared about himself and his business. He never committed to responsibilities or tried to do anything more than what was required of him at work or in familial contexts. Ivan was receiving, never giving; he never actively worked towards an objective, but always felt entitled to ask for more—a raise at work or more respect from his family. Most importantly, Gerasim teaches him how to approach the uncertainty of death with passion, even if Ivan has only a few days left to live. Indeed, Gerasim’s joyous and sage approach to death’s uncertainty—he utters, “We shall all of us die, so why should I grudge?”—inspires Ivan Ilych to embrace the right way to live by welcoming death at his deathbed with sheer joy (29). He finally makes a wholehearted commitment to the present moment and its uncertainty. Krishek & Furtak call this joyous acceptance of the objective uncertainty of death “trust in uncertainty” (30). That is how human beings “discover the meaning of life: by being [...] receptive and accepting whatever happens” (31). In other words, being receptive is a matter of listening in silence without complaining. This is what Ivan Ilych eventually does at the end of his life, without complaining about his pain and his fear of death. Instead, his acceptance is a matter of avoiding resistance to change and welcoming death (32). Having applied Climacus’ teachings to Ivan Ilych’s case, I argue that Ivan Ilych should have lived his life by taking the pathless way . The pathless way is not an objective way equal for everyone, but a shapeless way that Ivan should have shaped according to his own subjective experience of life and death. Therefore, the “right way” to subjectively relate to the objective uncertainty of death for Ivan is to trust this uncertainty without necessarily having faith in God, as Climacus’ emphasis on the ethico-religious stage of existence suggests. The right way means seizing the moment in passion for the infinite, welcoming this uncertainty, joyfully accepting whatever happens, and making a wholehearted commitment to the inevitability of death in order to appreciate life’s surprises, as Gerasim did. Admittedly, there is a problematic contradiction for Climacus in claiming that there is a single best way to subjectively relate to the uncertainty of death. As I said earlier when discussing Bernier, I argue that Climacus allows for other ways of equal worth to make a wholehearted commitment to life and the uncertainty of death. In more detail, I argue that we should be charitable when criticizing Kierkegaard’s philosophical project of defending subjectivity as an authoritarian project that falls into objectivity . The contradiction is apparent for two main reasons (33). Firstly, the contradiction enters Kierkegaard’s works . Indeed, advocating for a single best way to subjectively relate to the uncertainty of death is to make an objective —almost authoritarian —ethical claim of how one should live his life (34). It is important to highlight that Climacus is not simply concerned with a metaphorical faith, such as trusting uncertainty in the place of trusting God, but “precisely with the problem of becoming a Christian subject ” (35). Nonetheless, Climacus insightfully asserts that “[i]t is the passion of the infinite and not its content that is decisive” (36). This alludes to the fact that seizing the moment in passion for the infinite merely provides a “how,” a form—a pathless way —whose “what,” whose content, changes for every distinct individual. Furthermore, although Climacus seems to be mainly interested in Christian faith, he also claims that “he has no opinion of his own,” as the constant use of pseudonyms in Kierkegaard’s works are all subjective (37). This points to the fact that his works neither equal Kierkegaard’s subjective point of view, nor do they refer to a possible objective take on what the absolute truth is. They offer mere suggestions , not orders, of how to seize the moment in passion for the infinite in the most personal way. Again, a striking example of this is the trust in uncertainty shown by Gerasim, who, in his appreciation of life’s simplest pleasures, in his humility and in his exercise of love, pity and compassion, accepts mortality with joy. Secondly, the contradiction enters Kierkegaard’s life . Worryingly, it seems that “[i]f we are to understand Kierkegaard and not simply make use of certain of his insights—we must keep in mind that he was throughout his life concerned with what it meant for him to become a Christian” (38). This implies that Kierkegaard’s existential philosophy cannot be separated from his endorsement of Christian faith in his life, which has led many philosophers to define Kierkegaard’s project as an archetype of Christian existentialism: a type of existentialism whose fundamental features include faith in God (39). Nevertheless, I support Holmer’s interpretation of the Kierkegaardian narrative of the stages of existence , which separates Kierkegaard’s faith from his philosophy. Indeed, it aligns with my previous interpretation of Climacus who, I have argued, allows for different ways to seize the moment in passion without implying there is a single best way to do this. For instance, by either making a wholehearted commitment to life at the ethical (non-religious) stage of existence or at the ethico-religious stage by having faith in God (40). Similarly, Holmer argues that Kierkegaard’s works “are a presentation of kinds of possibilities, [hence the stages of existence, specifically the ethical and the ethico-religious] which are neither true or false”(41). That is, again, whatever possibility the individual chooses, whatever stage of existence to seize the moment in passion for the infinite, he is not making the wrong choice, as long as this individual is showing the right attitude to relate to the uncertainty of death, hence by subjective reflection. Thus, an individual like Ivan Ilych can choose to become subjective by simply becoming ethical. That is, by trusting death’s uncertainty, without necessarily trusting a Christian God, as Kierkegaard aimed to do. Furthermore, even if one grants Kierkegaard’s faith is inseparable from his philosophy, Kierkegaard’s attempt at becoming a knight of Christian faith, meaning a devoted believer in God, was a failure. According to his extensive personal journals, he struggled all his life to find something for which to live and die. As he was never convinced that faith was the answer to his questions, he never became a devoted, fully committed believer (42). Moreover, any other attempt at becoming ethical was not successful. For example, he once fell in love with a Danish aristocrat and he proposed to her. However, before marrying her he changed his mind and left to pursue the path of faith (43). Insightfully, McLane emphasizes that Kierkegaard presumably took the path of Christian faith only out of existential frustration . This does not necessarily prove that Christian faith is not the “right” way to live a good life for anyone, but it was not the case for Kierkegaard. As McLane concludes: “Whether Kierkegaard is correct in thinking that man’s true need is for God and that Christianity satisfies this need—these are questions that can only be decided by each individual for him” (44). In conclusion, I have argued that Kierkegaard’s works, since he used pseudonyms, and his life, since he failed at becoming a knight of Christian faith, show that there is no single best way to seize the moment in passion. Therefore, we should be charitable when criticizing Kierkegaard’s authoritarianism in advocating for subjectivity, since he was also trying to make sense of death—and life—in his own way. Eventually then, I, Young Climacus, argue that in order to grasp the uncertainty of his own death Ivan Ilych should have taken the pathless wa y, trusting this uncertainty: accepting whatever happens, hence living a caring and mean- ingful life as someone who essentially exists in the world. As Lorenzo de’ Medici proclaimed: “Chi vuol essere lieto, sia:/Di doman non v’è certezza” (45). Endnotes 1 Tolstoy, Leo, The Death of Ivan Ilych: Annotated (English Edition) , 262. 2 Kierkegaard, Soren, Concluding Unscientific Postscript (Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 139. 3 Ibid, 132. 4 Ibid, 138. 5 Furtak, Rick, “Chapter 5: The Kierkegaardian Ideal of ‘Essential Knowing’ and the Scandal of Modern Philosophy,” Kierkegaard’s Concluding Unscientific Postscript: A Critical Guide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 210), 87. 6 Kierkegaard, Soren, Concluding Unscientific Postscript , 166. 7 Ibid, 173. 8 Furtak, Rick, “Chapter 5: The Kierkegaardian Ideal of ‘Essential Knowing’ and the Scandal of Modern Philosophy,” 110. 9 Ibid, 136. 10 Ibid, 132. 11 Ibid, 108. 12 Kierkegaard, Soren, Concluding Unscientific Postscript , 139. 13 Ibid, 142. 14 Ibid, 139. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid, 140. 17 Ibid, 141. 18 Ibid. 19 Kierkegaard, Soren, “The Concept of Anxiety: A Simple Psychologically Orienting Deliberation on the Dogmatic Issue of Hereditary Sin” (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 152. 20 Bernier, Mark, “Chapter 2: The Kierkegaardian Self,” The Task of Hope in Kierkegaard (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 18. 21 Horace, The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace (London 1882), Ode 1.11. 22 Kierkegaard, Soren, Concluding Unscientific Postscript , 171. 23 Ibid, 141. 24 Bernier, Mark, “Chapter 2: The Kierkegaardian Self,” 23. 25 Ibid, 24. 26 Tolstoy, Leo, The Death of Ivan Ilych: Annotated (English Edition), 854. 27 Ibid, 827. 28 Brombert, Victor, “Tolstoy: ‘Caius is Mortal,’” Musings on Mortality: From Tolstoy to Primo Levi (Chicago: University of Chicago, 2013), 19. 29 Tolstoy, Leo, The Death of Ivan Ilych: Annotated (English Edition), 953. 30 Krishek, Sharon and Rick Furtak, “A Cure for Worry? Kierkegaardian Faith and the Insecurity of Human Existence,” International Journal for the Philosophy of Religion no. 72 (2012), 171. 31 Ibid, 168. 32 Ibid, 171. 33 McLane, Earl, “Kierkegaard and Subjectivity,” International Journal for the Philosophy of Religion no. 8 (1977), 231. 34 Ibid. 35 Ibid, 216. 36 Kierkegaard, Soren, Concluding Unscientific Postscript , 171. 37 McLane, Earl, “Kierkegaard and Subjectivity,” 216. 38 Ibid, 218. 39 La Vergata, Antonello and Franco Trabattoni, Filosofia, cultura, cittadinanza 3: Da Shopenhauer a oggi (Milan: RCS Libri S.p.A, 2011), 49. 40 McLane, Earl, “Kierkegaard and Subjectivity,” 215. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid, 217. 43 Ibid, 227. 44 Ibid. 45 In English: “Be happy if you want to,/For tomorrow is not certain.” (Getto, Giovanni, “L’enigmatico Lorenzo,” Lettere Italiane 31, no. 1 (1979): 78). Bibliography Bernier, Mark. “Chapter 2: The Kierkegaardian Self.” The Task of Hope in Kierkegaard , 1-26. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015. Brombert, Victor. “1 * Tolstoy: “Caius is Mortal.” Musings on Mortality: From Tolstoy to Primo Levi, 1-12. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013. ProQuest Ebook Central: http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ed/detail. action?docID=3038458. Furtak, Rick. “Chapter 5: The Kierkegaardian Ideal of ‘Essential Knowing’ and the Scandal of Modern Philosophy.” Kierkegaard’s Concluding Unscientific Postscript: A Critical Guide, 1-24. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Getto, Giovanni. “L’enigmatico Lorenzo.” Lettere Italiane 31, no. 1 (Gennaio-Mar- zo, 1979): 76-78. Casa Editrice Leo S. Olschki s.r.l. URL: https://www. jstor.org/stable/26258859. Horace. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. Translated by John Conington. London, 1882. URL: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/tex- t? doc=Hor.+Od.+1.11&fromdoc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.02.0025] Kierkegaard, Soren. Concluding Unscientific Postscript (Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Kierkegaard, Soren. Fear and Trembling (Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Kierkegaard, Soren. “The Concept of Anxiety: A Simple Psychologically Orienting Deliberation on the Dogmatic Issue of Hereditary Sin.” Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1980. Krishek, Sharon, & Furtak, Rick. “A Cure for Worry? Kierkegaardian Faith and the Insecurity of Human Existence.” International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 72:157- 175.Springer Science+Business Media B.V., 2012. DOI: 10.1007/s11153-011-9322-5. La Vergata, Antonello, & Trabattoni Franco. Filosofia, cultura, cittadinanza 3: Da Schopenhauer a oggi. Milano: RCS Libri S.p.A, 2011. McLane, Earl. “Kierkegaard and Subjectivity.” International Journal for the Philosophy of Religion 8: 211-232. Springer, 1977. Tolstoy, Leo. The Death of Ivan Ilych: Annotated (English Edition). Amazon Media EU S.r.l., 2019. Previous Next

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. Retrieved December 9, 2019, from Stock Market—Busi- ness News, Market Data, Stock Analysis—TheStreet website: https://www. thestreet.com/markets/lehman-brothers- collapse-14703153 Stewart, J.B. (2009, September). Eight Days | The New Yorker. Retrieved De- cember 7, 2019, from https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2009/09/21/ eight-days Stewart, J. B., & Eavis, P. (2014, September 29). Revisiting the Lehman Brothers Bailout That Never Was. The New York Times . Retrieved from https://www. nytimes.com/2014/09/30/business/revisiting-the-lehman-brothers-bail- out-that-never- was.html Tarhan, V. (1995). Does the federal reserve affect asset prices? Journal of Econom- ic Dynamics and Control , 19 (5), 1199–1222. Retrieved from https://doi. org/10.1016/0165-1889(94)00824- 2 The Fed—Primary Dealer Credit Facility (PDCF). (n.d.). Retrieved December 5, 2019, from https://www.federalreserve.gov/regreform/reform-pdcf.htm The Financial Crisis Inquiry Report . (2011). PublicAffairs. Previous Next

Journal Features Online Features & Interviews Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Steven Pinker Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Paul Krugman Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Yanis Varoufakis Vol. II | Issue II Foreword Editorial Board Vol. II | Issue II Vol. II | Issue I Sheldon Whitehouse United States Senator from Rhode Island Vol. II | Issue I Foreword Editorial Board Vol. II | Issue I Vol. I | Issue II Nicola Sturgeon First Minister of Scotland Vol. I | Issue II John R. Allen President of the Brookings Institution Vol. I | Issue II Foreword Editorial Board Vol. I | Issue II Vol. I | Issue I Jorge O. Elorza Mayor of Providence, Rhode Island Vol. I | Issue I Greg Fischer Mayor of Louisville, Kentucky Vol. I | Issue I Foreword Editorial Board Vol. I | Issue I

There’s Nothing Here... We can’t find the page you’re looking for. Check the URL, or head back home. Go Home