The Captain and the Doctor: On the Enchantment of Modern Men George LeMieux Author Alexander Gerasimchuk Fatima Avila Editors Though we be on the far side of the world, this ship is our home. This ship is England. Introduction Modern man is lost. He is not home to himself. He lacks the longings that great men once had. While Nietzsche, Rousseau, or Burke might better articulate or explore this problem, I intend to explore how it might be remedied, a possible antidote to our modern poison. From the Western canon, I have identified three such antidotes or rather three figures who might re-enchant the modern man, the man of the democratic age. They are the vanguard of Marx, the conqueror of Nietzsche, and the disciple, which is first constituted Biblically but later in Toqueville among others. I shall conduct this search through the metaphor of a ship’s captain, in this case, Captain Jack Aubrey as depicted in the celebrated series and film Master and Commander , which I will briefly outline. Before that outline is given, I will first justify this metaphor by the virtue of captaincy itself (despite the fact I would shoehorn this favorite film of mine into anything). Then in the aftermath, I will examine these three figures as our “captains.” In this examination, I hope to reveal that modern man may only be enchanted, or at least enchanted to humanity’s benefit, by a disciple. For our captain, only the disciple offers a path that does not self-destruct and looks beyond worldly motivation. A Metaphor Since there is a long and storied history of philosophers making use of the ship and other nautical nomenclature as metaphor for their sophisticated views on man, government, and what other nonsense comes to their minds, I see no reason to deviate from the tradition. For what is better than a ship with captain and crew? She, like her nation, must suffer through trial and tribulation, storm and battle. She must adjust her sails so that she catches the wind but not let loose so much as to rip her masts apart. She must have a rigid hull built to withstand cannon and carronade, but she must also have flexibility, lest the changing temperatures and humidity crack her hull. She must be led by a captain, strong and decisive in his command. Yet he must not be a tyrant. He must court the hearts of his men so that he may win their will. If not, his men will mutiny. The uninspired crew would have no other reason to entertain the otherwise insufferable conditions of life at sea. Indeed, I do think this will be a fitting metaphor. The Captain Captain Jack Aubrey of His Majesty's Royal Navy is a man caught between two worlds, between two times. Behind him is the aristocracy of old: kings, queens, lords, ladies, and government by the few for the many, at least ideally. In front of him stands modernity: merchants, naturalists, revolutions, counter-revolutions, Napoleon, the new world, America, and democracy. Such is the world of Captain Aubrey as depicted in Patrick O'Brian's novel and Peter Weir’s film Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. Jack is a man of tradition. He respects the Crown. He reads his scripture. He loves his country. Jack’s hero is none other than Duke and Admiral Horatio Nelson, a brave and sturdy man who dies defending his love of king and country. And yet Jack sees his idols, his pillars crumbling. He has witnessed the chaos of the revolutions in France. He holds the Burkean sentiment that it is the modern radicals that “despise experience as the wisdom of unlettered men; [...] they have wrought underground a mine that will blow up, at one grand explosion, all examples of antiquity, all precedents, charters, and acts of parliament. They have ‘the rights of men.’” It is this modern threat with its rights and revolutionaries that is epitomized by the two foils of the film. The first foil is the Acheron —the ship of the modern age. She is at the forefront of naval technological advancement. Her hull is braced by three layers of live oak and white oak, making her near impenetrable for any ship of her class. She is the largest of any frigate built, able to carry more guns, yet also more aerodynamic, “heavier, but faster spite it” (Weir, Collee). In every way, she outclasses the H.M.S Surprise , Jack’s nimble but aging frigate. And where is the Acheron built? Boston. While Peter Weir had the financial sensibility to make the antagonist of the film French, i.e. Acheron , Patrick O’Brian’s ship was called U.S.S Norfolk . It is with this name that the dichotomy O’Brian intended is much clearer. It is the new world and the old world, His Majesty and Mr. President. And the new world is winning. The second foil is not a figure of oak and iron but of flesh and bone. Doctor Stephen Maturin is the ship’s surgeon and a savant of a surgeon he is. He is also a naturist, collecting, diagraming, and recording the various species he encounters on the ship’s voyages. Upon the ship’s travel to the Galapagos Islands, the parallels to the young Darwin are evident. More important, however, than any of this, he is Jack’s best friend. Despite sharing little common interest, much less a common worldview, Jack confides in Stephen what he confides in no one else. Stephen, in turn, voices his dissent to Jack, when no crew member nor officer would otherwise dare. He is both his greatest ally and greatest challenger. He is the check to Jack’s ambition and the prosecutor of his reason. He is the liberal to Jack’s conservatism. He echoes the voices of democracy, of the social contract, and the danger of tyrants. His respect for Jack comes not from his title or station but from how he leads, how he governs. It is Stephen who most quickly becomes the radical, the revolutionary, when Jack steps out of line. The Jack we see at the film’s beginning is willing to die on the hill of order and naval tradition. He is unable to see anything but the objective of his mission. Stephen and even the other officers are unable to go as far. To Jack’s credit, it is his daring and force of will, despite insurmountable odds, that makes him a great captain. In his pursuit of the Acheron , Jack takes risks that make his moves unpredictable and effective; his crew calls him Lucky Jack for a reason. But those risks do not come without their costs, even if Jack is lucky more often than he is not. Eventually, Jack carelessly pursues the Acheron into a storm and loses a man and a mast in the process. Still, Jack does not turn tail, despite Stephen’s pleas. He refits and refocuses. Only by the film's end does Jack reform and he does so not through reasoning but out of his friendship with Stephen. When Stephen is injured in an accident on board (a marine shoots him while aiming for a bird), Jack sends his ship ashore to one of the Galapagos islands instead of continuing his pursuit, likely to his detriment. This act of compassion, as it turns out, is the saving grace of the Surprise. Not only is the Acheron spotted on the far side of the island, but Stephen inspires Jack on how to capture her. While Jack's act of compassion does not separate him from his ideology, it reveals a complexity in his nature. In not letting his warrior-like nature subjugate the other parts of his conscience, Jack demonstrates his command of self, making him a good captain in more ways than one. His compassion for Stephen, despite their differences, allows him to occupy a middle ground between old and the new, between those of high and low station, between those conservative and radical. Despite their differences, Jack and Stephen end their days together with music, with a duet, playing the cello and violin as the Surprise sails into the sunset. Looking at this time and this day, in this new world, one must wonder if such bonding, such good feeling, such balance between the conservative and the liberal is possible. Every day the position of the radical, of the accelerationist, becomes more compelling even to the conservative. In America, the rigging and line that once held hull and sail together have frayed and torn, not in the harshest winds but in their daily use. The physical lines that once held men together are now virtual, connections in the cloud and the internet. These lines between men were once tangible things; now, there are few of these left. The conservative now must ask himself what he intends to conserve and if he is capable of such conservation. With conservatives far to the right, liberals far to the left, and a confused chasm in between, can those old ropes hold society together any longer? Perhaps, it is time to cut the rope. Perhaps, it is time for both right and left to become radical. Or, perhaps, there is faith to be had in those old ropes. Perhaps, there could be a man to renew their strength, reorganize them, and apply a fresh coat of tar to protect them. Perhaps, there might be a man who could tie new ropes without cutting away the old. Is there such a captain for this ship of modernity? Is there a Jack who can reason with the moderns, take heed of their desires but not be dragged off course? What does such a captain look like? The Captain’s Virtue Before one can talk of any mystical quality a good captain must have, one must first talk about his primary obligation, his duty, his vocation. For if this station is not sound in virtue, the metaphor is not fit for its goal. A captain, such as Jack, is the leader of a warship and of its crew. He would not be a good captain if he could not sail, navigate, or command the ship in battle. He must understand every part of his command and responsibility. It was for such reasons that those men who became captains most often started their time at sea from their early teens as Midshipmen, who were responsible for commanding gun crews of sailors twice their age. It is this good practice, of physical strain and tangible purpose, that makes the vocation virtuous. Virtue is not found in sophistry or the professing of morality but in good works and deeds. Both Rousseau and Marx recognized that the “sensible” men of the world are not the magistrates but the “workers” and the “people.” In this way, the captain is a unique station. It is a position that reaches downward to the grit and servitude that is required but reaches up toward order and inspiration. On one hand, a captain must stand amongst his sailors and with his marines facing the enemy, taking with them every shot fired, equally as likely to be impaled by shrapnel and splinter, equally as likely to take grapeshot from a swivel gun, equally as likely to take a cannonball straight through his gut. On the other hand, a captain must reach upward. He must engage in strategy, diplomacy, and negotiation. He takes his orders from admirals, parliament, and the King. He must, with his officers, stand apart and govern the crew, making sure he does not fraternize with them or become too social. He must whip those who are insubordinate. And it is he who gives the parting sermon after his men die in battle. The captain is both above and below, a man who mediates between king and country, between God and his men. Vanguard For Marx, the nature of our captain is clear. He must be a vanguard, a man who can reach from the high to the low, from bourgeois to proletariat, a man who has the means to lead the proletariat to “acquire political supremacy” and “ constitute itself the nation” (Marx 488). The vanguard can not be of the lower classes as they do not hold the means of production or own sufficient property. The vanguard will not be the bourgeois socialist who wants “all the advantages of modern social conditions without the struggles and dangers necessarily resulting from them.” That man would not lead nor fight in the “impending bloody conflicts” that the revolution requires. But the captain might. He, by virtue of his practice, gains access to the epistemic standpoint of the working man. He can call his men into battle because he will be in that battle himself, because he will stand in front, with pistol and cutlass in hand, because he knows their plight and their struggle. Yes, the captain might be the perfect vanguard, if he had the disposition and the courage required to lead the revolution. But no vanguard will heal or reinspire the whole nation. He will take the radicals he agrees with and burn the rest. The ideal vanguard may be the captain, the general, or some other man of higher but not so noble station, that comes down to act on behalf of the proletariat. But the unifying captain is, in the root of his position, opposed to such a severing. More fit, would be the treasonous first officer who leads a mutiny against the captain and the remaining loyal officers. To be a vanguard is to be a “slash and burn” farmer who wreaks devastation on the present vegetation so that the soil may be made fertile again. There will be no healing, under the vanguard. Conqueror Then perhaps the captain, who must fight to re-enchant our new world, must be a conqueror. The conqueror does not require a revolution, or at least not an ideological one, for the conqueror has no need for the traditional radical who operates on moral principles. He is not the vanguard who cries out to the poor that they must liberate themselves. The conqueror only asks for good men, inspired to fight for their home and fatherland, inspired to make something more of what they have been given. The conqueror rises in rank and comes to lead a nation because of his proven success on the battlefield. This captain inspires not because of his pleasant sailing or wise words but because he sinks ships. Nietzsche asks “[m]ust the ancient fire not some day flare up [...] More: must one not desire it with all its might.” Is it not blood that would surely wake the modern man from his slumber, wake the animal instinct inside of him? Perhaps the true conservative can only believe that “antiquity incarnate” arises through a conqueror, a superman, a Napoleon. And yet one must ask of Nietzsche, what is to happen after the conquest? What is to happen after one has conquered all he can or has been defeated? What was Napoleon to do, having failed in Russia? What was Alexander to do when he lay sick and dying in his bed? What is left to hold a nation together when the expansion has stopped and the wars have come to an end? How is a conqueror to at last govern his people? If the measure of man’s vitality is only to be strength and victory, then there will be no man who finds purpose in times of peace. When the soldier again becomes the carpenter after his service is done, he must now aspire to be the superman of carpentry. He must strike down all other table builders and door makers in his path if he is to achieve vitality. He will feel not for his fellow man, now that he does not need him to protect his flank or cover his advance. He will be a frustrated and lonely man, who, in his attempted rationalization to maximize his will and vitality, will frantically look around every corner to become the carpenter of all carpenters, betraying every man who gets in his path. Nietzsche might retort that one should not care for the carpenter, for all carpenters are weak men who failed to rise to a higher station. But if one is to build a society, does one not need the carpenter? Would it not be better to be his friend so that he may more willingly and caringly craft one’s furniture? Perhaps Nietzsche thinks that forcing the carpenter to build a chair would be better to maximize the will than to engage in normal transaction or to politely ask him. Society needs carpenters; a ship needs sailors. Neither will run well if every request is made out of threat or a difference in power. Sure power may be unequally distributed among men, and men will surely wield that power to their advantage, but every interaction need not be a Melian Dialogue . No unification of society, no mending of wounds, could ever take place in such a one-dimensional existence. Even if, for but a fleeting moment, conservative and liberal may be united by the fires of war, such a state is only temporary. While the ancient fires may rise again, they may just as quickly die. For all Napoleon was, how many more revolutions and fragile republics followed? There was no remnant of antiquity to build upon. Instead, it was democratic man who, upon the rubble of Europe, raised his new throne. In his time, Tocqueville correctly surmised that democracy would be here to stay: “I think that in the long run, government by democracy shall increase the real strength of society.” While “slave” in its morality, democracy is dominant in its presence. Its practitioners are no longer just the carpenters or even the priests; they are the captains, the generals, the senators themselves. While European antiquity lay unaware, the strength and size of America, of democratic power, grew. “Something that passed unnoticed a century ago now strikes the attention of all.” Now, antiquity not only lacks the popular momentum to overcome the democratic age, but it lacks the strength. If there is to be a man who rekindles the flame of the West, he will not be a conqueror who slays democratic man. He will be a democratic man himself. And What for God? Purposely absent from the mind of Marx’s vanguard and Nietzsche’s superman is the Kingdom of God. Nietzsche and Marx are the archetypes of, as John Courtney Murray would categorize them, “the postmodern atheist”. The post-moderns not only leave God out of their government, philosophy, and science as the moderns do; they actively strike Him out, act against Him, and demonstrate how He cannot exist. The postmodern is offended that a God could exist and (in Marx’s case) allow for so much scarcity, so much evil, or (in Nietzsche’s case) deprive man of his freedom, the will, that makes man human. God, if he exists, is either a tormenter, imprisoner, or both. Nietzsche further declares that the morality man claims to have derived from God, the morality of the Christian and the Jew is the greatest perversion of the natural order: strength and weakness. Good and evil, concepts of vengeful weaklings, invert the true “morality” by which man once lived and should live again. Of Marx’s and Nietzsche’s cases, Nietzsche’s is the stronger. When one eliminates God from the worldly equation, one must also eliminate the morality that came with Him. Marx may claim scarcity is the great evil, but this concept of evil only comes through sympathy for the suffering of others. What is the evil of inequality or greed or a dominant bourgeois class if there is no concern for fellow man? From where does the humanist goodness, ascribed by Marx to the elimination of suffering, originate? Without an order, ordained above and outside by divine authority, there can be no objective good. No worldly cosmodicy is sufficient to prove an objective good. If one’s ultimate goal is “good” for the nation, one cannot look to Nietzsche for a cure; the concept of good is, in fact, part of the disease. But if one looks to Marx, one cannot find a source of good. Therein, the postmoderns are fruitless. And democratic man seems to agree. The true moral plague is that democratic man is not looking for goodness but instead assumes it. The modern atheist does not kill God but walks away from Him. In His absence, he does not search for truth or morality but merely replicates the idea of good that was passed down to him. He imitates, but his imitations, as they are not rooted in the source, are imperfect: bastardized (Murray and Nietzsche agree). He might even hold some personal religious sentiment but will not act on religious conviction. He does not mix the personal with the external world. He will work, govern, and wage war but will never do so in the name of God. He lives as if God does not exist. This … breed says in effect that, since he cannot know what God is, he will refuse to affirm that God is. But this stupidity, one may well think, surpasses that of the idolater. It is not merely an implicit refusal of God; it is an explicit denial of intelligence. The essence of God does indeed lie beyond the scope of intelligence, but his existence does not. It is this modern man—the man who does not deny God but shoves him aside—that has become commonplace. This modern man feels neither the warm light of heaven nor the scorching hellfire below. He wanders in a cold fog, blind, deaf and dumb. He lingers in the cave only seeing shadows of the truth. Because he does not see the source of the light, he assumes there is no source and does not search for it. It is this modern man who must be re-enchanted. Disciple So how is our captain to deal with the moderns, with the Dr. Maturins that now sail aboard every ship? What is he to do with those who synthesize values of democracy and the equality of man but do not acknowledge the creator who created them equally? Thankfully, the modern agnostic, despite his lack of reason in comparison to the Nietzschean, has not yet thrown off his moral yoke. In some ways, he still feels a connection to the world beyond the material. There are yet some embers left to kindle. There are yet men left to kindle them. There is hardly any human action, however private it may be, which does not result from some very general conception men have of God, of His relations with the human race, of the nature of their souls, and the duties to their fellows. Nothing can prevent such ideas from being the common spring from which all else originates. If man is to truly be re-enchanted—to be inspired and given lasting direction—he must look to that only thing which is transcendent, that is not merely of time and matter. If there is ever again to be unity amongst men, there must be unity with their creator. There must be disciples to show us the way. When man has been enchanted, even democratic man, it has been with and through religious spirit, fostered by disciples and prophets. These men once walked among us. These were the men in between God and humanity, Heaven and Earth, men who heard His voice and acted on His will. They were Moses and Abraham and David and Paul and Peter. God even revealed Himself to man in mortal form, in and through man’s pain and flesh. And yet, despite all of these, man’s faith remains weak. The disciples' task is never finished. He may never stop, for if he does, man is quick to forget and quick to lose his way. He will lose himself in the desert, and never find the promised land, his true home, his self. The disciple must be an ever-present and ever-constant reminder of God. The captain, disciple in his most righteous form, has some divine spark, some glint in his eye, some Promethean fire in his bosom that animates bravery and fortitude. The captain calls his men to voyage into the unknown, across the far side of the world. He calls his men to fight for a home that long disappeared behind a horizon last seen thousands of miles ago. He brings together those born across the empire, those who share little, and those who resent much. The duty the captain must call his men to cannot be incentivized with the stuff of the earth. He can promise them no amount of riches or glory among men to keep them steadfast. There is something the captain must awaken in his men that moves their spirits, their souls, guiding them toward something not here attainable. Only manna sent down from upon high can quell a spiritual hunger. And so the Captain must be like Moses, the interlocutor between man and God—newly the interlocular between conservative and liberal. He does not make the manna nor the law in the heavens, but he does transmit them. He walks down from Sinai to deliver to those below. He understands the plight of his crew, the doctor, and the common man, but he does not let them build golden calves. He has ambition but he does not raise towers of Babble; he does not push onward without cause. Where have these disciples gone? Where is Moses to be seen? Who upholds the commandments given from on high? Might it not be the lack of disciples but man who is the problem? Have there been one too many golden calves built in town squares, one too many towers of Babylon raised to the mockery of Heaven? Are there enough ears today willing to hear a sermon, enough lips willing to say a prayer? I contend there are. While the world may not be presently enchanted, there have been moments, glimpses, of enchantment. There was Reagan who stood in the way of the communist threat with his quick wit but mild manner. There was Dr. King who appealed to the heavens, preached to the masses, and marched hand in hand with the persecuted. There was Churchill who looked the devil right in the eye and spat back at him. There was Lincoln who looked over a battlefield and made a promise those men would not die in vain. There was Washington who led his soldiers, served his time, and ceded his throne. It was these disciples that reminded man of himself, of his nature, of his longings. They called upon God, evoked a higher duty, and bound men to each other. They knew that “[r]eligion [...] imposes on each man [...] obligations toward mankind, to be performed in common [...] and so draws him away from thinking about himself.” Like a captain, those disciples, who were fit to suffer, suffered in common with their men when they could have stood afar. Dr. King marched with his men, was imprisoned for them, and died for them. Reagan too took a bullet for his nation, although he fortunately survived. Lincoln, in his service and his stress, aged himself twenty years in the span of four and was assassinated shortly thereafter, giving the last full measure of his devotion. Washington lost battles for months on end in the bitter cold until he found success in a Christmas night attack. Oh, the joy nations will feel when leaders acquire such courage again when they call upon the heavens as they did not so long ago. Oh, they will know that feeling that gathered hundreds of thousands on the National Mall, that mustered the men who crossed the Delaware, that had black and white Union soldiers singing “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah” as they marched surely to their deaths at Fort Wagner. Only then can man come home to himself. Conclusion Who is our captain to be? What direction would we have him take our ship? Must he not be both a man of the people and a man of the elite, a democratic man who still has a touch, a memory in him, of that antiquity, that nobility, that honor of old? Still, he is not the vanguard of the proletariat, for the vanguard is a mutineer hellbent on revolution, not a captain. Neither is he the conqueror, for the captain must govern his ship beyond the rush of battle. He must lead his crew through those many times at sea which are dull and mundane. He must care for his men beyond their use in warfare. He must be selfless because that is what God calls him to be in times of struggle, a disciple who looks upward before he looks onward. But if those fires are ever to rise again, if the trumpet must once again cry its song of battle, the captain must be ready. He must again be simply a man of his trade, a good seaman and a good officer. He must dexterously maneuver his ship, out-sail, and outsmart his opponents. And when he must call for cannon fire, he must know what to cry to his men. He must have their best, not just for him, but for their God, their nation, and their fellow man. JACK - Want to see a guillotine in Piccadilly? CREW- No! JACK- Do you want to call Napoleon your king? CREW- No! JACK- Want your children to sing The Marseillaise? CREW- No! JACK- Mr. Mowett, Mr. Pullings, starboard battery! References Burke, Edmund, et al. Select Works of Edmund Burke: A New Imprint of the Payne Edition. Liberty Fund, 1999. Marx, Karl, et al. The Marx-Engels Reader. Norton, 1978. Murray, John Courtney. “The Problem of God Yesterday and Today.” Georgetown University Library, 1963, library.georgetown.edu/woodstock/murray/1964c. Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm. On the Genealogy of Morals. Translated by Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, Vintage Books, 1989. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. The Major Political Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau: The Two Discourses and the Social Contract. Translated by John T. Scott, The University of Chicago Press, 2014. Tocqueville, Alexis De, et al. Democracy in America. Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006. Weir, Peter, and John Collee. Master and Commander: Far Side of the World. Twentieth Century Fox, Aug. 2001.

Douglas Beal The Financial Case for Nations and Corporations to Put People and the Planet First Douglas Beal We are in a period of increasing societal disruption. Pressure is mounting to ad- dress the climate crisis. Racial equity issues have moved to the forefront. And the COVID-19 pandemic has caused untold suffering and death and upended economies around the globe. In the past, addressing such issues has been seen primarily as the responsibility of government. But increasingly, there are expectations that the private sector must play a leading role in driving progress on major societal challenges. I, along with my colleagues at Boston Consulting Group, have spent the last decade supporting nations and corporations in addressing social and environmental issues—and measuring how their efforts impact country GDP and company financial performance. My work in this area began with economic development, helping nations to advance in a way that improved the living standards of citizens. More recently I refocused on private sector work, helping companies and investors create strategies to deliver both business and societal value. The research and client work I’ve done in both areas reveal a powerful insight: whether one is talking about a country’s economic growth or a company’s prof- its or returns for shareholders, performance is not degraded by focusing on how decisions impact people and the planet. Rather, the evidence is mounting that integrating such factors into strategy enhances financial performance. Putting Well-Being at the Heart of a Nation’s Strategy BCG’s insight on these dynamics started with our work in the area of economic development. As we supported presidents and prime ministers around the world in honing their development strategies, it became clear they were looking for a way to measure their progress beyond the purely financial benchmark of GDP. This reflected their acknowledgement that robust GDP per capita growth in the short term means little if living standards are undermined in the long term (by poor health, underinvestment in education, a degraded environment, and a widening gap between rich and poor). The Sustainable Development Goals had not yet been put in place at this time, meaning a globally-recognized holistic framework for measuring country progress did not exist. We set out to create one. This led to some deep conversations about what really matters for a society. As Robert F. Kennedy said, GDP “measures everything in short, except that which makes life worthwhile.” We had to ask our- selves: What actually makes life worthwhile? We thought about general measures of happiness, for example, and whether levels of citizen happiness would be a good barometer for a nation’s performance. Ultimately, we decided that happiness would be too subjective for what we wanted to achieve. Instead we decided to focus on well-being , the conditions and quality of life people experience. We then asked ourselves: how do you measure well-being—and how can a government contribute to it? We spoke with numerous experts and dug into the re- search on well-being to determine what factors should comprise our measure. We eventually zeroed in on 10 dimensions: income, economic stability, employment, health, education, infrastructure, equality, civil society, governance, and environment. We identified a series of indicators for each—a total of 40 in all. The result was the Sustainable Economic Development Assessment, a diagnostic tool and measurement framework launched in 2012. SEDA allows us to track how a country’s well-being compares to that of other nations, determine the pace of progress over time, and identify areas in which countries are performing well or need to improve. SEDA revealed valuable insights. First, not surprisingly, countries with higher levels of wealth tended to have higher well-being. Norway, for example, has had the highest level of well-being relative to the rest of the world every year since we launched SEDA. Second, not all countries convert their wealth (GDP per capita) into well-being at equal rates. Some deliver well-being levels that are beyond what one would expect given the country’s wealth—and others deliver well-being far be- low what would be expected. In recent years Vietnam has been among the leading countries in terms of converting wealth into well-being—outpacing countries such as Germany, France, and the US on this metric. Third, inequality—and not just income inequality—has a major impact on well-being. Certainly, income inequality gets significant attention in political and media circles. But SEDA captures a broader view, assessing not only income inequality but also the lack of equity in access to health care and education as well. And our analysis last year found, somewhat surprisingly, that high levels of social inequality are a greater drag on well-being than high levels of income equality. Over the years, as we continued to assess country levels of well-being, public sector clients, journalists, and others often raised a similar question. While it was clear that countries with higher levels of wealth or growth had more resources to advance well-being, we were frequently asked if the reverse was true. So, was there evidence that countries with a better record on well-being ultimately posted more robust GDP growth? In 2018 we decided to take a stab at answering that question. By then we could access ten years’ worth of SEDA data—enough time to give us confidence we could identify a long-term trend if it existed. Drawing on data for all 152 countries in our data set, we looked at a country’s initial well-being performance relative to its wealth in the period leading up to and including the financial crisis (from 2007 through 2009)—and its growth rate in the decade that followed. We found that on average, countries that produced better well-being for their population given their level of wealth did in fact have a higher GDP growth rate in the future. Our analysis also found that countries that had a better record at delivering well-being for citizens were more resilient during the financial crisis, taking fewer months to recover to pre-crisis GDP levels than countries with weaker records on well-being. It turns out that taking care of people and the planet is good economics. Focusing on Total Societal Impact As we worked with nations on development strategies, we urged them to think strategically about integrating the private sector into those efforts. This included understanding where the country’s most pressing needs existed and identifying the industries and companies that could play a role in addressing those needs. Banks, for example, can be key partners in expanding access to capital for entrepreneurs. Food manufacturers that expand their supply chain to include small-holder farmers can help raise incomes for those individuals and reduce poverty rates overall. And biopharmaceutical companies that move to expand access to medicine can play a vital role in improving health outcomes. Time and time again my economic development work in the public sector rein- forced the importance of the private sector in advancing important societal issues. In 2016, I started focusing more on working directly with large multinational corporations to find ways to improve both business returns and their positive impact on society. At that time, academic research had shown that integrating environmental, social, and governance (ESG) performance into investment decisions led to better returns from a portfolio perspective. What that meant for individual businesses was not quite as clear. Most of our clients are large corporations—and they had a lot of questions. First, CEOs and CFOs were grappling with whether they should think of good ESG performance as a cost or an opportunity. They also wanted to understand what specific ESG topics were most important for their industry. So, we set out to prove that in fact ESG is an opportunity—not a cost—and to identify those topics that matter for specific industries. In 2017, I joined a group of colleagues in the Social Impact practice to conduct a detailed study of ESG performance in four industries: biopharmaceuticals, oil and gas, consumer packaged goods, and retail and business banking. We assessed company performance in dozens of ESG topics, such as ensuring a responsible environmental footprint or promoting equal opportunity. We looked for any correlation with market valuation multiples and margins. Our goal was to determine whether companies that excelled in those areas, enhancing what we call Total Societal Impact (TSI), saw a difference in financial performance versus companies that lagged in those ESG areas. Now, as members of the Social Impact practice, we were of course hoping we’d find a link. In fact, the results exceeded our expectations. Nonfinancial performance (as captured by the ESG metrics) has a statistically significant positive correlation with the valuation multiples of companies in all the industries we analyzed. In each industry, investors rewarded the top performers in specific ESG topics with valuation multiples 3% to 19% higher, all else being equal, than those of the median performers in those topics. And top performers in certain ESG topics had margins that were up to 12.4 percentage points higher, all else being equal, than those of the median performers in those topics. The bottom line: not only was there no penalty for focusing on ESG, but companies that performed well in critical ESG areas were rewarded in the market. The Moment of Truth Our work in SEDA and TSI were completely different—looking at different players, using different methodologies, and conducted at different times. Yet the results yielded strikingly parallel insights: putting people and the planet at the center of strategy improves financial performance. Those insights have major implications for nations and companies as they navigate the current period of turbulence and disruption. Certainly, it is too early to know which countries around the world will prove more resilient in the face of the pandemic. However, our research does support the view that those nations that design recovery strategies that support citizen well-being are likely to fare best. In particular, governments should design economic re- vitalization programs that don’t just position their nation for economic success in the future, but also ensure the benefits of any gains are equally shared among citizens. And those that created massive stimulus programs must leverage them as an opportunity to accelerate progress in fighting climate change. For companies, the imperative to transform in ways that create positive societal impact is equally strong. Companies should protect employees by ensuring work- place safety, while also reskilling workers and accelerating hiring where feasible. And as they transform their business in the face of the pandemic, they should integrate a societal impact lens into the effort. They can, for example, improve the resiliency of supply chains while also reducing carbon emissions and environmental impact. They can look for new product opportunities that yield real societal benefits. And they can partner with other companies or organizations to maximize impact. There are early indications that companies with a strong focus on their impact on society are faring better right now. Some key MSCI ESG indices, for example, have outperformed non-ESG benchmarks since the start of COVID-19. The challenges facing society today are grave—and daunting. But nations and corporations have massive leverage to move the needle against climate threat, racial inequity, and the devastating pandemic. Without their leadership, it is hard to see how we can make progress in any of these areas. Lucky for us, the evidence shows it is in their economic interest to do so. Previous Next

Vance Kelley Civil Disobedience and Desert Theory of Punishment Vance Kelley I. Introduction In this paper, I discuss how the state ought to punish civil disobedience given a desert theory of punishment. By “desert theory of punishment,” I mean the view that lawbreakers ought to be punished according to what they deserve. Other considerations, such as what would best deter or incapacitate lawbreakers, are to be ignored according to desert theory. Since there are many distinct notions of “civil disobedience,” I will also clarify my use of this phrase. I use “civil disobedience” to mean “breaking the law in order to communicate to the public and the state that a policy violates the lawbreaker’s moral convictions.” My definition leaves aside whether civil disobedience is nonviolent or a last resort (as John Rawls supposes), although these features could marginally affect how civil disobedience ought to be punished (1). Ultimately, I conclude that states ought to punish all civil disobedience less harshly than typical offenses. I arrive at this “mercy for all” view in a roundabout way. In fact, I initially point out a shortcoming with this view in Section III. In Section IV, I examine an alternative view that advocates lesser punishment only for civil disobedience done from correct moral convictions. I argue that this “mercy for correct moral convictions” view is impractical, since the state cannot identify who disobeyed from correct moral convictions and who disobeyed from incorrect ones. This leads me to argue in Section V that the state must punish all civil disobedience uniformly, without regard to the correctness of civil disobedients’ moral convictions. I then conclude that the best uniform punishment is indeed to treat all civil disobedience with mercy, since this avoids over-punishing those who act from correct moral convictions. II. Why Desert Theory? As I have said above, my central claim is that given desert theory of punishment, the state ought to punish all civil disobedience mercifully. Some may find it perplexing that my central claim accepts desert theory as the correct theory of punishment, and indeed this needs to be justified. Simply put, I accept desert theory because it best captures our intuitions about disciplining lawbreakers. Most of us share the intuition that it is wrong to punish innocent people as well as the intuition that it is wrong to over-punish the guilty. Desert theory offers an explanation of these intuitions; it is wrong to punish the innocent and to over-punish the guilty because these conflict with what people deserve . Innocent people do not deserve to be punished at all, and guilty people deserve to be punished in proportion to the severity of their crimes. Yet alternatives to desert theory—such as theories that recommend punishments based on their incapacitation or deterrence value—have a difficult time explaining why we hold the above intuitions (2). In fact, these “consequentialist” theories of punishment would suggest punishing the innocent or over-punishing the guilty if doing so deterred or incapacitated lawbreakers. For example, suppose that by executing a petty thief the state could deter all would-be thieves from stealing others’ property in addition to incapacitating the executed criminal. Consequentialist theories of punishment would recommend executing the petty thief even though this conflicts with our intuition that over-punishing him with death is wrong. Therefore, the problem with consequentialist theories of punishment runs even deeper than what Walen suggests. Not only do consequentialist theories fail to explain our intuitions about punishment; they also render verdicts that directly conflict with these intuitions. Of course, one could write volumes on the merits of different theories of punishment, and what I have written above merely scratches the surface. But I hope to have at least made the argument that desert theory is compelling, and my do- ing so should assuage concerns that I am unduly neglecting what consequentialist theories would say about punishing civil disobedience. Desert theory is the most plausible account of how we ought to punish lawbreakers, and I will now move on to my central concern: how should the state punish civil disobedience? III. The Shortcoming of “Mercy for All” One initially plausible view is that given desert theory, all civil disobedience ought to be punished less harshly than typical offenses. Kimberly Brownlee discusses this “mercy for all” view in her Stanford Encyclopedia entry, writing that civil disobedients deserve mercy because they are motivated by moral convictions. The idea is that lawbreakers generally deserve mercy if obeying the law would have been very difficult for them, and civil disobedients’ moral convictions indeed make obeying the law quite difficult (3). Additionally, perhaps civil disobedients deserve mercy because their motives are less reprehensible than those of typical offenders. Breaking the law because of one’s moral convictions seems far less shameful than doing so out of self-interest, and this has long been held by legal scholars (4). The view that all civil disobedients deserve mercy because they act from moral convictions may therefore seem plausible, but it is not quite right. Surely, granting mercy even to civil disobedients who have incorrect moral convictions is too broad. These misguided disobedients do not deserve lesser punishments than typical offenders, and an example shall make this clear. Suppose a man publicly refuses to obey a law that protects gay citizens from discrimination. Believing that homosexuality is immoral and that the law unjustly protects wrongdoers, the man refuses to serve same-sex couples at his restaurant as a way of protesting the law. Clearly, the fact that his disobedience is done from a moral conviction does not make the man deserve lesser punishment than normal offenders (5). His moral conviction is severely misguided, detestable, and undeserving of mercy. Therefore, it seems that only civil disobedients who act from correct moral convictions deserve reduced punishments. IV. The Impracticality of “Mercy for Correct Moral Convictions” I have just shown that only civil disobedients who act from correct moral convictions deserve mercy. Disobedience done from incorrect moral convictions, on the other hand, deserves no lesser punishment than normal. On desert theory, then, it seems rather straightforward that states ought to punish civil disobedients who hold correct moral convictions less harshly than normal offenders, while those with incorrect moral convictions ought to be punished at the standard level. However, this “mercy for correct moral convictions” view faces a significant problem. In practice, the state cannot administer the different levels of punish- ment that the view calls for. During sentencing, judges would need to discern who disobeys from correct moral convictions and who disobeys from incorrect ones. Yet typically judges will not be able to discern this, and instead they will view both types of civil disobedients as having incorrect moral convictions. This is because all civil disobedience expresses moral convictions contrary to those of lawmakers—that is the entire point of civil disobedience—and typically lawmakers’ convictions will also be held by judges. After all, in most democratic systems, lawmakers choose judges whose views accord with their own. Given that judges’ own moral convictions will agree with those of lawmakers and conflict with those of civil disobedients, judges will regard all civil disobedients as having incorrect moral convictions, for it will not matter that some civil disobedients’ convictions actually are correct and some are not. Admittedly, there may be cases where acts of civil disobedience convince judges that their moral convictions are wrong and that the disobedients’ convictions are correct. In such cases, judges could perceive that civil disobedience is being done from correct moral convictions, since here they do not allow their own moral convictions to cloud their judgment. That said, these cases are rare. Civil disobedients often fail many times before persuading the state that their moral convictions are correct. For example, the civil rights period in the United States lasted many years and required numerous instances of civil disobedience before judges and lawmakers were persuaded to end Jim Crow segregation. Generally, judges will view civil disobedients as having incorrect moral convictions even if some actually are correct; consequently, the state cannot give the different types of civil disobedients the disparate punishments that they deserve. V. “Mercy for All” Revisited So, how can the state punish civil disobedience? It cannot discriminate between disobedients who have correct moral convictions and those who lack them. In- stead, the state must punish all civil disobedience uniformly, without regard to the truth of disobedients’ moral convictions. This may cause us to conclude that desert theory is false if “ought implies can.” If states only have moral obligations to do what is possible, then it is not the case that they ought to give different punishments to civil disobedients depending on the truth of their moral convictions. As I have shown in the previous section, it is generally impossible for the state to assess the truth of these convictions and give out different punishments for them. Yet “different punishments depending on the truth of civil disobedients’ moral convictions” seems to be exactly what desert theory entails. The view claims that states ought to punish lawbreakers according to what they deserve, and civil disobedients deserve different punishments depending on the truth of their moral convictions. Since desert theory seems to entail a false conclusion, it appears to be false. However, there is a way around this problem for the view. We can add a proviso to desert theory that handles cases where the state is unable to give lawbreakers the different levels of punishment that they deserve. According to this proviso, if a state cannot identify and administer these different levels of punishment, then it no longer ought to give lawbreakers these different levels. Instead, the state ought to choose a uniform level of punishment that gives no one harsher punishment than she deserves, even if this lets some lawbreakers receive undeserved mercy (6). One may wonder why this proviso places so much emphasis on treating no one worse than she deserves. But in fact, many people agree with the spirit of the proviso. We often say that it is better to let guilty people go free than to imprison someone who is innocent; this idea was formalized by British jurist William Blackstone and has remained a part of jurisprudence ever since (7). With this proviso added to desert theory, it no longer imposes a moral obligation that violates “ought implies can.” Now, states are simply obligated to impose a uniform level of punishment on civil disobedients, and this should pose no practical difficulties. Given this proviso, what uniform level of punishment does desert theory recommend for civil disobedience? This could take one of two forms (8). First, the state could show no mercy to any civil disobedients and punish all of them at the lev- el appropriate for normal offenders. But this would over-punish those who have correct moral convictions and deserve mercy, so it is ruled out by the proviso. Alternatively, the state could show mercy to all civil disobedients and punish them at the reduced level appropriate for those with correct moral convictions. This under-punishes civil disobedients with incorrect moral convictions (who deserve full punishments), but it avoids over-punishing those with correct moral convictions. Since this second option avoids over-punishment, it is favored by the proviso. Therefore, states ought to show mercy to all civil disobedients and punish them at the reduced level appropriate for those with correct moral convictions. VI. Conclusion I have shown that given desert theory, we ought to punish all civil disobedience mercifully. I began in Section II by justifying and accepting desert theory, which claims that people ought to be punished according only to what they deserve. Then, in Section III, I examined my preferred view that all civil disobedients ought to be punished less harshly than typical offenders. I initially argued that this “mercy for all” view has a shortcoming: civil disobedients with incorrect moral convictions do not deserve mercy. Nonetheless, I returned to this view after recognizing in Section IV that it is impractical to give mercy only to disobedients with correct moral convictions. As I then explain in Section V, punishment of civil disobedience must therefore be uniform with respect to the truth of lawbreakers’ moral convictions. After adding a proviso to desert theory which accounts for this fact as well as our intuition that under-punishing is preferable to over-punishing, I return to the “mercy for all” view and accept it as the only one compatible with justice. Endnotes 1 John Rawls, A Theory of Justice. Harvard Belknap Press, 1971. 320, 327. 135 2 Alec Walen, “Retributive Justice”. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Fall 2020 Edition. https://plato.stanford. edu/entries/justice-retributive/. Section 1. 3 Kimberlee Brownlee, “Civil Disobedience”. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Fall 2017 Edition. https:// plato.stanford.edu/entries/civil-disobedience/. Section 4.2. 4 Harrop A. Freeman, “The Right of Civil Disobedience”. Indiana Law Journal, Vol 4 Iss 2, 1966. https://www. repository.law.indiana.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3628&context=ilj. 228-254. 5 It might be hard to imagine the “normal offender” for this case. Here, it would be someone who refuses to serve gay citizens but does not do so to protest the antidiscrimination law. Perhaps this person thinks that serving gay citizens will cause him to lose the business of homophobic customers. 6 One might question why the new level of punishment must be uniform. For example, perhaps different levels of punishment could be administered on a random or arbitrary basis. But surely, such punishments would be unjust. 7 William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England, 1893. 358. 8 It could also take a third form, at a level somewhere between what the two groups of disobedients deserve. But this would obviously over-punish those who have correct moral convictions and be thrown out by the proviso. Previous Next

*Feature* JPPE INTERVIEWS, PAUL KRUGMAN: Inequality, Artificial Intelligence, Technological Disruption, and Assortative Mating Paul Krugman is an economist and writer, who currently serves as professor of economics and international affairs at Princeton University, Centenary Professor at the London School of Economics, and as an op-ed columnist for The New York Times. Prior to his appointment at Princeton, Krugman served on the faculty of MIT; his last post was Ford International Professor of Economics. He has also taught at Yale and Stanford Universities, and prior to that he was the senior international economist for the President's Council of Economic Advisers, under Ronald Reagan. He is a Fellow of the Econometric Society, a Research Associate of the National Bureau of Economic Research, and a member of the Group of Thirty. He has served as a consultant to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, the United Nations, as well as to a number of countries including Portugal and the Philippines. In December 2008, Mr. Krugman received the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences for 2008, honoring his work in international trade patterns. Fall 2019 JPPE : With US income and wealth inequality at a historical high, economists like Daron Acemoglu and David Autor have discussed the issue of job polarization and the idea that artificial intelligence and other modern labor-saving innovations might contribute to the widening of that skills gap and the further privileging of high skill work. Are you concerned that modern technology will make inequality worse? Krugman : I’m concerned but I’m not convinced. The belief that we’re living in an era of radical technological change has a problem, which is, if we were in such a period, we should see rapidly rising productivity. What we’re actually seeing is rather sluggish productivity. Rising productivity is just not being shown in the data. And then once you adopt that attitude you can ask yourself how—thinking about the kind of tangible technological innovations of our time—are we really seeing radical progress? The rise of the original smartphone or the iPhone was a really big deal. How excited are people about this year’s latest smartphone? You really can convince yourself that we’re starting to plateau. And that may not last, but it’s not clear that this is a time of very radical technological change. Aside from the fact that rapid technological change isn’t so obvious, the argument that technology is driving income polarization runs up against several problems. I think Autor does great stuff, and that “U shape” he finds is really interesting. But there is a problem if wage developments don’t seem to be following the kinds of labor that he says are being devalued—i.e. if middle-skill work isn’t experiencing worse wage gains than lower-skill work, which is the part that's growing. So if we’re seeing an economy that is polarizing with a greater number of low skill jobs, why are home health aids not getting better paid? Those are service sector jobs, so that makes you question whether there is some statistical artifact about the whole thing. It’s not for sure, but I’m unconvinced. And then there’s the general point that if we have technology that’s biased against labor, it needs to be biased towards something, which would be capital. This means returns to investments would be high, but the corporate sector is behaving as if returns on investment are low. They are not investing heavily despite extremely low interest rates. So I just think the whole thing is a story you can tell, and it might be true in the future but there really is no slam dunk evidence that it’s what is happening now. JPPE : Research by Robert Allen on the “Engels’ Pause” shows that because technological disruption tends to improve productivity, it also temporarily increases inequality as wages stagnate and returns to capital rise. Then eventually some leveling force brings it down. Do you think that that’s a fair way of looking at how theoretical technological disruption causes inequality? Krugman : It can happen. To the extent that we have a theoretical analysis of what technology does, that analysis says that it depends on the technology and it depends on the bias of the technology. Technology that replaces a worker with lots of extra capital should have a negative impact on wages and increase inequality. That’s not a particularly new insight. David Ricardo had it in 1821, and the reason he had it is because there’s a pretty good case that that’s what happened during the early phases of the Industrial Revolution in Britain. There’s an endless debate about what happened to real wages between 1800 and 1840, but the fact that we’re even having that debate tells you that there isn’t sufficiently convincing evidence of rising real wages to override the counterarguments. So stagnating wages due to technology is possible. It’s not clear that it has happened again since the Industrial Revolution. There is an argument that there was a kind of technological bias towards highly educated workers, which was driving the rise in income inequality in the 1980s and 1990s. That’s more debatable, but it’s also a story that doesn’t help much in developments since 2000. So technology can have an effect, and it’s very easy to write down a model in which technological change is, for some period—and maybe even an extended period—, bad for substantial groups of workers. But it depends on the story you tell. JPPE : There was economic research that found assortative mating was responsible for twenty percent of the rise in inequality since the 1980s. Is there anything college students can do about this, or are they just the vehicles of widening inequality? Krugman : It's not just assortative mating; it’s assortative lots-of-stuff. At the highest levels, everyone was roommates at Harvard. But I think a lot of those assortative mating things are mostly relying on inequality as measured by survey data, which doesn’t capture the really huge incomes at the top. Those incomes are measured by other things, and that’s a large part of the inequality. But, look, if we can restore adequate funding for high-quality public education so that we can have more great students at a wider variety of places, then maybe the mating won’t be so assortative. I’m not big on the notion that any intervention in people’s lives is evil socialism, but telling people who fall in love with is beyond even what I would consider. JPPE : Fair enough. Walter Scheidel came out with The Great Leveler where he wrote a history of inequality. His thesis was that periods of high inequality only ever get remedied by mass military mobilization, plague, civil war, or government collapse. In a time of historically high inequality, are you worried about that? Or do you think that effective policy and effective politics can actually play a role in reducing inequality? Krugman : The middle-class society that I grew up in—now gone— was the creation of policy. It was not the result of the invisible hand of the market, but a dramatic increase in unionization, the squeezing of wages, wage differentials, the establishment of norms, and changes in taxation, all of which were associated with World War II. So massive total war was the background for the Great Compression. Do we know that this is the only way that reducing inequality can happen? No. It’s the only way we’ve seen it happen in the past, but we don’t have a whole lot of samples, and you have to hope that we can do it differently. And I would say that there were significant equalizing reforms during the Progressive Era, and it’s true that some of the stuff took place after World War I, but some of it took place before. So I don't think history should give you total pessimism about our ability to enact change. And I'd like to see more equality and not total war.

Author Name < Back Unwitting Wrongdoing: The Case of Moral Ignorance Madeline Monge Should we blame and praise people for actions which they are ignorant of performing or which they take to be morally neutral? There are two competing theories for the moral assessment of ignorant agents. Capacitarianism focuses on whether an agent could have to have done something to not be ignorant but instead acquire moral knowledge. Valuationism determines an ignorant agent’s blameworthiness by looking at their values. Someone is blameworthy if they act within their values and still commit the harmful act. My paper makes three points. First, I examine how thought experiments revolving around moral issues are either written in support of, or as counterexamples to, the two theories of moral responsibilities. The description of these thought experiments causes the reader to lean in favor of what the theorist is trying to argue. In other words, these thought experiments function as intuition pumps. Second, reflection on the thought experiments used in support of the two theories of moral responsibility reveals that these theories, rather than being rivals, are two sides of the same coin. In this paper, I presuppose ignorance is a lack of knowledge. Knowledge I take to be a composite state that consists at the very least of three necessary conditions: truth, belief, and justification. This view, which can be traced back to Plato’s Theaetetus , claims that what distinguishes knowledge from mere true belief and lucky guessing is that it is based on some form of justification, evidence, or supporting reasons. The truth condition of the justified-true-belief analysis of knowledge states that if you know that p, the p is true. The truth condition need not be known; it merely must be obtained. The belief condition claims that knowing that p implies believing that p. Finally, the justification condition demands that a known proposition is evidentially supported. he justification condition prevents lucky guesses from counting as knowledge when the guesser is sufficiently confident to believe their own guess. Given that ignorance is the lack of knowledge and given that knowledge has at least three necessary conditions, there are many different sources of ignorance: lack of belief, lack of truth, and lack of justification. There are numerous psychological factors that can give rise to each of these three conditions. Among these psychological factors are forgetting, cognitive biases, miseducation, or lack of exposure. I presuppose this ignorance to be lacking knowledge. There is not only one type of ignorance, rather, there are two main classes of such: factual ignorance, and moral ignorance (Rosen, 64). There are various sources of ignorance from where factual and moral ignorance arise. When someone does not know, forgets, is lacking exposure to, is miseducated, does not retain, or misunderstands a given fact that cannot be disputed under any circumstance, they can become either factually or morally ignorant. These sources can be relieved with conscious effort, or by external involvement (Rosen, 302). Ultimately it is up to the agent to recognize errors that result from their ignorance. A debate surrounding the exculpating factors of moral or factual ignorance is important to understand. It is generally thought that immoral actions can only be exculpated by factual ignorance, but not moral ignorance. Factual ignorance hinges around objects of descriptive facts. I will be using an example of slavery in ancient slave-times to illustrate this concept. Let’s suppose someone lives next door to someone who has slaves but also does not know they are living next door to slaves. This would be a situation of factual ignorance because the neighbor does not know the fact that there are slaves living next door (Rosen, 72). It could be because they are unobservant, or because the slaveholder does a good job of keeping the slaves quiet; there is also the chance that the neighbor doesn’t care, is distracted by their own life, or denies their worry of believing that there are slaves. The slaveholder hiding slaves is an objective/descriptive fact that cannot be disputed. Even if they deny it, the slaveholder would still have slaves, and the descriptive fact would not change. On the other hand, moral ignorance arises when someone is ignorant of a moral fact. Moral facts are normative, and they prescribe courses of actions that are true simpliciter (Rosen, 64) . If the neighbor to the slaveholder knows that they are living next door to slaves, but does not know the slaveholder is harming them, this wouldbe moral ignorance. It is morally impermissible for the slaveholder to have and harm slaves. The neighbor should know the slaveholder is acting immorally by keeping and harming the slaves. Moral ignorance does not stop at the fact that the neighbor does not know it is morally wrong to harm people, but they may also not know they should do something about the harm. This ignorance of harm can be defined as, not knowing that an action may cause pain (harm) when one should know it does so. They also ought to know that, without good reason, harming people should be avoided at all costs because it is morally impermissible (Biebel, 302). Should the neighbor be exculpated because of factual or moral ignorance? If the neighbor does not know that having and harming slaves is morally impermissible, this could not be factually exculpated. This is a case of moral ignorance. The neighbor would be morally exculpated for their ignorance in this scenario because they are unaware that having and harming slaves is impermissible by moral standards (Rosen, 66). There is no opportunity for the neighbor to be factually ignorant. What prompts this type of ignorance? Perhaps the neighbor does not care that the slaves are being harmed, is distracted by other events, or is afraid of the repercussions that will incur because of speaking out against the moral injustice. The most important aspect of moral ignorance is to remember that it is prescriptive, and not descriptive. The argument of moral ignorance and blame revolves around what should or shouldn’t be done because of lacking knowledge. This is largely in part to the distinction between factual and moral ignorance. Factual ignorance may sometimes exculpate an immoral action, but it is ultimately moral ignorance that will exculpate an individual (Sliwa, 6). I. Capacitarian and Valuationist Assessments of Moral Responsibility: There are now several theories that concern moral ignorance: volitionist, attributivist, capacitarian, valuational, parity, and pragmatic. While all differ from one another in how they attribute blame to cases of moral ignorance, capacitarian, parity/pragmatic, and volitionism share a disposition of blame that focuses on someone’s capacity of knowledge (Biebel). Valuationalism and attributivism respond to blameworthy actions as being dependent on the personal volition of the agent. I’d like to classify these two categories as capacitarian and valuational. I will occasionally refer to specific points that individual theories make, but with the example of the slaveholder, I will continue the conversation with the two main theories. The capacitarian theories revolve around the counterfactual capacity that an individual has when deciding which action to take in a morally relevant situation that could’ve been prevented. They look at situations where someone is blameworthy. They want to know if it was in the agent’s capacity to correct or avoid being ignorant, and if this would have prevented them from performing the immoral action. Capacitarians consider people responsible for their actions if they are responsible for their capacity of behavior. People who lack the capacity for knowing what is morally permissible, say children, or people who are mentally incapable of retaining information relevant to moral standards, are not culpable for their immoral actions. They can be corrected, and may learn afterwards, but they are not blameworthy. They lack the ability to retain vital moral considerations. Capacitarians do not skip over the fact that people’s ignorance may be the reason they are acting immorally. If someone believes from their ignorance that what they did was the most rational and correct method of handling a situation of moral relevance, then they may be exculpated. However, this justification is only one part of the knowledge needed to have an accurate and knowledgeable conclusion. How a morally significant situation should be handled depends on someone’s capacity to know whether they had the opportunity to do something differently. This difference in choice may have changed someone’s ignorance into knowledge and prevented the immoral action. When someone is not aware why they are ignorant, they are also unaware of how they can resolve their lack of knowledge. This is the way capacitarian’s view moral ignorance to be exculpable, and encapsulates much of capacitarians’ concern. How can someone be blamed for not knowing a moral standard if they have never been socially conditioned or taught what the moral standard is? When I go over the varying vignettes that hone in on how the capacitarian theory can be utilized I will be able to further demonstrate the degrees of internal and external factors that influence moral ignorance, conveying how someone might come into the position to remedy their ignorance but lack the awareness or determination to do so. Arguing against the capacitarian theory is the valuationist theory. Valuationism responds to capacitarianism with a specific criticism. Capacitariansim uses immoral ignoramus as a clear reason to excuse someone from an immoral action, but valuationists believe that the capacitarian theory is too easily applied to every case of immorality. They do not think it is wise to exculpate someone who has forgotten or is unknowledgeable about morality. Valuationism approaches the topic of blame and exculpation surrounding immoral actions by looking at omission and forgetfulness. The theory considers omission and forgetfulness to lead to potentially harmful instances of ignorance. Harmful ignorance is when someone consistently shows blameworthy immoral actions. Valuationists trace the value systems and the past actions of agents to see what led them astray towards immoral actions. They look at recidivism rates, as well as values and virtues. Valuationalism investigates how people are held accountable for their actions and believe someone is only deserving of moral praise if they have reason to act morally. Moral responsibility is the condition of whether someone is praiseworthy, blameworthy, or excused from the former two because of their involvement in a moral act. Someone could also fail to act or omit an action. This is potentially why someone deserves a moral reward or punishment. Valuationists agree that psychological states may affect someone’s behavior to act accordingly during a moral situation. They see this as one component in the person’s link to act or neglect to act. Therefore, valuationists think it can only serve as a partial excuse for someone and is not a strong enough argument to exculpate them from a morally relevant situation. Psychological states in a valuationist framework does not make someone incapable of moral knowledge, nor does someone’s emotional attachment serve as a reason for someone to act immorally. Whether someone cares about an action does not render them more or less blameworthy. It may affect how much or little they will react, but it should not affect their moral assessment. Therefore, valuationalist’s believe that most people are, more often than not, blameworthy for their moral ignorance. If they have not responded in a morally kind manner to a situation, it’s because their values align with preconceived notions of their background. These preconceived notions are often the fundamental reasons for why someone acts immorally. Capacitarians avoid looking at an agent’s value system because they want to know if the immoral act could have been avoided, and if the agent could have prevented themselves from being ignorant in the first place. When we look at somebody's capacity to act, we are tracing their past actions and whether or not they had the ability to change their moral knowledge. Capacitarians rely on a history of someone’s actions. The values that arise from somebody's capacity to act are decided through the person's past actions from the moment they are born. Capacitarians look at past actions carefully because the culmination of them sets up the targeted subject that a valuationist uses to counter their argument. Values are deeply seated through someone’s past actions. The more they are reinforced through choice of action and external influences, the more established they become. The deeply seated beliefs that someone has grown into values are important for evaluating the response a person has to a morally loaded situation. We saw examples of this in the altered versions of the vignettes. Without the added context, a reader wouldn’t have been able to tell what the characters valued, nor what their guiding principles were. When we manifest actions as guiding principles, we are acting from a result of our values. These have been established by our capacities to act in the past. The values we are focusing on in this paper are intrinsic. For example, valuing education leads to being more productive in helping your children with their schoolwork and helping them improve when they need it. Valuing health means you likely eat a balanced diet and exercise regularly. These specific examples of intrinsic values provide a foundation for readers to rest on when making their own evaluative judgments. These intrinsic values lead to other good things, like, your children getting into a good school, and you living a life with bountiful opportunities because of your health. The Valuationist Theory focuses on such intrinsic values, and are meant for the valuationist to rationally conclude whether the characters in the vignettes are blameworthy or not. Values directly shape what people do and say. Their actions are subsets of behavior, and their behavior is a combination of capacities for potential action and values. Action is intentional behavior. Guiding principles of values will manifest as actions. The way we act is a subset of our values and that action is intentional. Each subset, whether planned or an unconscious reaction, is a value in disguise.Our actions are mostly intentional and based on our values, but sometimes they can be accidents due to forgetting. They may also be from a lack of capacity to change behaviors in the past and potentially due to a lack of values. II. Perspectives on the Assessment of Moral Responsibility with Respect to Capacitarian and Valuationist Approaches: In this next section, I will review various vignettes that scholars have introduced into the conversation of moral ignorance, discussing how our theory of moral responsibility will change depending on how the stories are described. I will be using a vignette from Alexander A. Guerrero’s 2007 article, “Don’t Know, Don’t Kill: Moral Ignorance, Culpability, and Caution”, which discusses the moral ramifications of poisoning someone with cyanide. I will also incorporate a recent, original vignette about the moral culpability of leaving a dog in a hot car. Both cases convey how the same set of events may be narrated in a way that supports the C or the V theory. . The support from these different theories is not derived from the event themselves but in how their contexts are described. Omitting and highlighting certain features will change which theory best explains whether someone should be blamed or praised. It is impossible to give a complete account of these theories in these vignettes, but we will be careful in fully describing each theory and embellishing. This will show which theory best explains each vignette. Both what could have happened and what is described will show whether one is morally blameworthy in the capacitarian sense. If a vignette lends itself to the capacitarian theory, it will focus on possible actions that could have changed depending on the capacity of the protagonist’s acknowledgement to do something differently. If the vignette falls towards the valuationist perspective, it is because of the protagonist’s present character traits and values. A. Case One: Guerrero’s Poison Let’s consider the case of Anne, who poisons Bill by spooning cyanide into his coffee. Anne believes she is spooning sugar, and she is blameless for her false belief. Is Anne blameless for poisoning Bill? Rosen concludes that an action done from ignorance is not a locus of original responsibility. This means Anne is only responsible for poisoning Bill if she is responsible for her ignorance about the fact that she is poisoning Bill. Guerrero has constructed a vignette that partially supports a theory where ignorance can be morally exculpated. What happens when details of the character’s capacities and values are introduced? I’m going to reintroduce Guerrero’s story with these details added to demonstrate the effectiveness of manipulating the story so the capacitarian or the valuationist theory provides a better explanation and justification of our natural inclination to blame the protagonist. B. Case Two: Guerrero’s Poison (modified) Let’s consider again the case of Anne, a single mother who is Bill’s girlfriend. Bill regularly comes over in the morning to share a cup of coffee because he has been dating Anne for a few months. After a long night of helping her children prepare for an important exam, Anne believes she is spooning sugar into Bill’s morning coffee and is unaware that she is poisoning him with cyanide. Anne does not know that last night after she went to bed exhausted from tutoring her children, she had a sleepwalking incident where she mistakenly poured out the sugar in the sugar dish and replaced it with cyanide. Afterwards, Anne went back to bed and did not remember what she did in the middle of the night. That morning while Anne was spooning poison into Bill’s coffee, he innocently read the morning news on his phone and did not give the sugar a second thought. Was it in Anne’s capacity to make sure she was spooning sugar and not cyanide into Bill’s coffee? If Anne does not regularly sleepwalk then we cannot expect it to be within her capacity to know that she ought to check the sugar dish just in case she had tampered with it the previous night. What about Anne’s values? We know that Anne values relationships and caring for others, as well as education. This is why she stayed up to help her children prepare for an exam, and also why she regularly invites her boyfriend over for coffee. Here Anne is not blameworthy for her ignorance, nor has she acted within a set of immoral values that would prompt her to poison Bill. This has never happened before to Anne. Anne has never sleepwalked a day in her life and has a consistent record of showing Bill hospitality and care. Under a valuationist’s account of moral blame, Anne would not be considered blameworthy because her actions do not align with her values, and after the incident, she continued to grieve and disapprove of her ignorance. She did not intend to cause suffering, nor does she value suffering. Anne unfortunately is the cause of Bill's death because she had a momentary lapse in her sleep routine which caused her to act involuntarily on account of ignorance. In this case, Anne would not be blameworthy by capacitarian standards, nor by valuationist standards. Anne is not originally responsible for poisoning Bill, and she would be considered morally exculpated. Based on what the story tells us about Anne’s character traits and values, one can see that she did not act with malicious intent. It was an honest mistake, and a serious accident. Even though Anne has never sleepwalked before, would it be reasonable to expect her to check her sugar before she gives it to Bill? I think it would be considered unreasonable for anyone to expect Anne to check her sugar because Anne does not have a past history of swapping out her sugar with other substances. If it were the case that Anne has sleepwalked before, and she has a past history of replacing her sugar with other substances, like salt, powder bleach, or baby powder, then it would be reasonable to expect her to check. If Anne had a history of swapping substances, then her negligence to check on the sugar dish would be an involuntary act in ignorance. In this vignette, how a capacitarian and a valuationist consider someone to be morally blameworthy or exculpated is revealed through the protagonist’s capacity and character traits. This example shows us that the capacity of memory to prevent a potentially harmfully ignorant situation is a mitigating factor in someone’s judgment of immoral behavior. Anne did not willfully act immorally and is not blameworthy for her involuntary action done out of ignorance (Alvarez & Littlejohn, 8). Both theories attribute a small degree of responsibility to the harm Anne has done, but not enough to judge her as being willfully ignorant nor morally culpable. Capacitarian and valuationist theories agree with each other in how they assess this vignette due to Anne’s isolated incident. Let us take another vignette to compare capacitarian and valuationist theories. In this next scenario we have the unfortunate event of a dog dying after being left in a hot car unattended for some time. C. Case Three: Hot Dog Imagine Mrs. Crawford is out running errands with her medium sized cocker-spaniel in the back seat. The dog is in good health, well-groomed and fed, and Mrs. Crawford sees to it that he is well taken care of. Today of all days Mrs. Crawford pulls into a parking lot with no shade to block out the sun from her car. There is no breeze, and it is ridiculously hot outside. Instead of bringing her dog into the store with her, Mrs. Crawford decides to leave her dog in the car with the windows rolled up. She reasons that the air-conditioner was on during the drive to the store, so the car is not muggy or hot. She also reasons that she will not be in the store for a long time because she has a list of things she wants to purchase. At this point in her decision, Mrs. Crawford locks the car and leaves for the store. Suppose Mrs. Crawford is making good time in the store. She is almost done picking out everything on her list and is careful not to get sidetracked. However, Mrs. Bailey sees Mrs. Crawford in the aisle over and makes her way to talk to her about some important matters. Mrs. Crawford is delighted to see and talk to Mrs. Bailey, and easily becomes swept up in her conversation. She remembers her dog is in the car but does not remember how hot it is outside because the store is well air-conditioned, aiding to Mrs. Crawford’s choice to talk to Mrs. Bailey for longer than expected. Now the dog is still outside in the hot car, and because it is not properly ventilated or shaded, the car quickly becomes extremely hot inside. The dog is soon unable to withstand the heat and becomes sick and passes out in the back seat before Mrs. Crawford returns from the store. Mrs. Crawford is mortified. She had no idea that leaving her dog unattended for as long as she did would result in its sickness. She quickly takes her dog to the vet. Here we have a vignette that sets up Mrs. Crawford to be morally exculpated by her ignorance if we are not considering her values or capacity to have made changes in favor of the dog’s life. We are now going to see another representation of this vignette with both capacity and values of Mrs. Crawford included. Within this next vignette, I will provide more background information that will show how someone's capacity can prevent ignorance from occurring or may cause someone's ignorance to flourish. I will also be including Mrs. Crawford's values, which will show whether-or-not by the valuation as to perspective that Mrs. Crawford is in fact acting in line with her values. D. Case Four: Hot Dog (modified) Imagine Mrs. Crawford is a steady workaholic. Mrs. Crawford decides to skip her dog’s walk and bring them to the store with her. She is alert, and well aware that bringing her dog with her might be a hinderance, but she does it anyway. Today of all days Mrs. Crawford pulls into a parking lot with no shade to block out the sun from her car. There is no breeze, and it is ridiculously hot outside. Instead of bringing her dog into the store with her, Mrs. Crawford decides to leave her dog in the car with the windows rolled up. She thinks she is doing the right thing by leaving her dog behind in the car and reasons that the air-conditioner was on during the drive to the store, so the car is not muggy or hot. At this point in her decision Mrs. Crawford locks the car and leaves for the store, confident that her decision was the right one. Suppose Mrs. Crawford is making good time in the store. She is almost done picking out everything on her list and is careful not to get sidetracked. However, Mrs. Bailey sees Mrs. Crawford in the aisle over and makes her way to talk to her about some important matters. Mrs. Crawford suddenly forgets about her need to complete her shopping trip in a timely manner. She forgets her dog is in the car, nor does she remember how hot it is outside because the store is well air-conditioned. Now Mrs. Crawford’s dog is still outside in the hot car, and because it is not properly ventilated or shaded the car quickly becomes extremely hot inside. The dog is soon unable to withstand the heat and becomes sick and passes out in the back seat before Mrs. Crawford returns from the store. When she returns, Mrs. Crawford is mortified. She had no idea that she had been talking to Mrs. Bailey for so long. She did not even think about her dog, or the possibility that leaving her dog unattended for as long as she did would result in its death. She quickly takes her dog to the vet. What can we understand about this scenario that is different from the original? With this new perspective, we can see that Mrs. Crawford was completely forgetful in the care of her dog. While she is a workaholic with a one-track mindset, her decision to bring her dog along seems out of the ordinary and not in line with her normal character traits. We can tell by this story that Mrs. Crawford values social relationships, which is why she stopped to talk to Mrs. Bailey, independence, which is why she went out to the store in the first place, and the well-being of others, hence her decision to leave her dog in the car. Did Mrs. Crawford have the capacity to change her course and make sure she took measures that would secure the safety of her dog? I believe so. She was not tired; she was not overcome with thoughts of work that would normally cause her to forget other obligations. She was distracted, but by something that she had the capacity to say no to. Here I would like to point out that Mrs. Crawford was in her right mind and within the right capacity to know that talking to Mrs. Bailey would disrupt her schedule of running errands. This change of schedule had the potential to possibly upset or cause extreme distress to her dog that she left in her car. Mrs. Crawford ought to have known that the dog in the car was the most precedent of her concerns. She knows that by moral standards her dog has moral worth and is a moral responsibility that she has tasked herself with. Mrs. Crawford is someone that knows the difference between morality and immorality, and she is fully aware that her dog has a right to life. By placing her own dog within harm's way, Mrs. Crawford showed not only ignorance of fact but moral ignorance as well. Since she did not know that she was possibly harming her dog by talking to Mrs. Bailey and staying within the store for an extra length of time. Mrs. Crawford would be considered morally blameworthy. She knew that her dog was in the car. Even though she may not have known that by leaving them in the car she was potentially endangering her animal, this shows moral ignorance because she did not consider her dog’s life to be worthy enough to take extended measures that would have ensured survival. From the capacitarian theory she is considered blameworthy, but considered innocent from the valuationist perspective. III. Capacitarianism and Valuationism are Two-Sides of the Same Coin: Before we start to cut deeper into each of the theories independently, I would like to point out that these vignettes show us how different theories about moral ignorance are more accurate attributions of blame, depending on how the story is told. The way an author prescribes a vignette will directly affect the way a reader chooses to apply a theory. The author’s choice to write objectively or subjectively will also affect whether a reader will approach the ignorant action with a mind of blame or exculpation. This mode of thinking is something we see in moral realism. There are two positions in moral realism that we might be able to categorize the capacitarian and valuationsist theories under. First, normative realism posits that ethical sentences describe positions that are grounded in objective features. Some of the objective features may only be true in that they report the descriptions accurately, such as “killing someone is bad”. These descriptions do not contain subjective opinions, which aids in their accuracy and helps to establish moral truths. Second, the version of metaethical realism that can be used to look at these theories states that, in principle, it is possible to know about the facts of actions that are right and wrong, and about which things are good and bad (Copp, 2007). This position depends on the subjective opinions of others to determine these aforementioned facts. Metaethical realism takes a more common-sense approach to ask questions like “should we reasonably expect someone to check the sugar dish before serving sugar?” The reason why we need to keep moral realism in mind while assessing capacitarianism and valuationism is because it directly affects our assessment of them. We can see that assessments about moral responsibility are sensitive to additions and omissions of information regarding capacities and values of the agents. With the incorporation of certain details about an agent’s past actions and value systems, a reader can be swayed to agree or disagree with certain theories of moral assessment. Certain details require someone to be objective or subjective in their interpretation of the events (Baumann, 2019). This can greatly affect how a story is understood by various readers. However the story is told, whether narrow or elaborate, the rationale behind omitting and adding detail will always have a direct effect on the reader’s intuition of the story. Depending on how the vignette is written, the reader can be manipulated to believe that certain events will result in one theory being more conclusive than another. What this shows us is that the philosophers who wrote the vignettes wrote them in a way to prove the point of their own theories. These vignettes function as intuition pumps. Anything the philosopher wants to say activates a reader’s intuitive approach to assessing a situation. While the capacitarian and valuationist theorists may focus on different characteristics of someone’s motivation, their approaches to assessments of moral responsibility are similar. Both look at the contexts in which the act was performed; however, they differ in which part of the context they think to be relevant in their assessments. Capacitarians consider the most relevant point of context of behavior and compare it to be the behavior leading up to the harmful act. The capacity of the agent is also dependent on their knowledge of their wrongdoing. Capacitarians ask whether or not agents could’ve done something differently in the past to prevent their immoral act from taking place. If they engage in a harmful immoral act, then it is a result of their ignorance. Whether to attribute blame to the agent who acted out of ignorance would depend on their capacity to know that there was some way they could have prevented themselves from doing so. If they did not have the capacity to know they were acting immorally, or that they could’ve prevented themselves from acting as such, then they would not be considered blameworthy. Thus, an agent acting out of ignorance without the capacity to know they are doing so would be morally exculpated. Valuationists choose not to look at the behaviors preceding the events and instead examine the value system of the agent. They do this because they think the value system of a person should be considered the relevant context of the moral assessment of an act (Arpaly, 2004). The community of moral theorists has situated these two theories in contexts of past actions or value systems. Up until this point, we have discussed these two theories independently, however, I would like to show how they are closely related. If a vignette focuses on the capacity or the value system of a person, then readers will be persuaded to agree with the theory that provides a better explanation of moral judgements concerning actions. For instance, the more detailed the information regarding the context of the agent, the easier it will be for us to apply a theory that best suits the framework. The information needs to highlight either the agent’s value system or the agent’s past actions. If the information in the vignette does not include any context for the reader, then it is natural for them to assume and fill it in themselves. The various assumptions that arise from different readers’ perspectives have the ability to lead to a deep disagreement about the moral assessments of actions. An under-described thought experiment gives you inconclusive information to fill in gaps that a narrow story leaves out. Without enough information, a reader must add their own information. When a reader substitutes the information missing in the vignette, it can pull people into a deep disagreement about the moral assessment of the agent. This makes it easy for a reader to feed into their own thoughts. A reader is then foolish for reading into the story what they hope to get out of it. This creates circular reasoning on the reader’s part. In all cases, different people will have different assumptions while reading the under-described thought experiment, which will inevitably lead to problems applying certain theories to each one. Unfortunately, there is no way to halt varying interpretations because it is unreasonable to expect anyone to be able to provide every possible angle that a situation can have. In other words, there is no way for the author to close the room for interpretation entirely. If a deep disagreement arises, then this must be a result of an author’s manipulation of the vignette. For a deep disagreement to form, the vignettes would need to have an unclear description of an agent’s past actions and capacity or an unclear description of their value system because this would pin the capacitarian and the valuationist standpoints against each other. When the contexts of the past actions and value systems are clear and detailed in a vignette, it is unlikely that a deep disagreement will occur. Rather than finding a clash of theories, the verdicts would be expected to converge due to their connection. Throughout this paper I have been providing a route to view the literature of moral assessment to show how the valuationist and the capacitarian approaches are in competition with each other. However, I think this view wrongly pins the two theories against each other. The values that a person has will manifest itself in their actions, likewise, their actions are guided by their values, whether consciously or unconsciously. When we lay out this connection, we can see how someone’s past actions and value system are actually connected. With that said, I think it would be in our best interest not to play the two against each other, and instead show they are dependent on one another. This holistic/detached perspective demonstrates how these two theories are two sides of the same coin. IV. Conclusion: The more a vignette spells out a history, the more we get a sense of the value system of the person involved. Any value system shapes how people perceive information and influences their decisions. This means it also influences their intuitions and builds peoples’ overall foundations for actions. How a person has acted up to the point of the scenario usually tells us the story of the person's value system. Here we get a better sense of how they would act in future situations based on how they have acted prior. If a vignette is written in detail, spelling out a person’s capacities, values, or both, then the competing theories proposed by valuationists and capacitarians will likely converge. However, if it's sparse with little to no information, then the two rival theories may clash. They will seemingly work against each other because the readers are left to fill in the details. Without an established history or value system described, readers do not have anything prescribing their thoughts. Clashing is due to the under-description of the vignette and not used to interpret theories. I think this is where a lot of the deep disagreement stems. In this conversation about the moral assessment of blame, we have two theories that are seemingly different but work in tandem. They have a great opportunity to change the way that we, as philosophers, attribute blame, especially since wishful thinking does not give moral valence. If readers can speculate the history and the potential for a person based on their capacity to potentially act out their value systems, then they will not need to speculate on what the author meant. After all, it is not the job of a reader to fill in the blanks, it is up to the author/philosopher to explain a thought experiment in full to establish their theory (Baumann, 2019). Any description that influences a perspective is an important factor, but we need to decide whether someone is or is not morally culpable in a particular situation. To do this, it is necessary to know all the past relevant information. Swapping things around, omitting necessary information, and changing the context to fit someone else’s narrative of events is not an effective way to correctively assess the morality of an agent, nor is it conducive to figuring out whether they are morally exculpable. Withholding information is one way to prevent knowledge, and if we are concerned with knowing whether someone has performed an immoral action, then the truth is of utmost importance (Baumann, 2019). This is the way things become known. When looking back at the argument between the valuationist and capacitarian, knowledge of the subject’s past is necessary for determining if someone should be considered morally blameworthy. For determining both a person’s capacities and values in the present, it is vital to investigate their past. A person’s past determines their values just as much as it determines their capacities. A person’s past values can be written off due to their present capacities; likewise, a person’s past capacities can be written off because of their present values. The present moment is a culmination of all the previous values an agent has upheld. Valuationists point out how a person’s values are a result of what they did or didn’t do in the past. These values are determined on the agent’s capacity to understand and act on those values. Similarly, capacitarians see capacities as manifestations of value systems. The key to finding out someone’s capacities and values is buried in their past. What is the difference between these two theories if they both require knowledge of the person’s past behavior? Are they distinct theories that have similar foundations, or are they two sides to the same theoretical coin? Since both theories require the past to determine their present conditions, it’s possible that proposing these two ideas as distinctly different theories does not hold up to scrutiny. This is because values are conditions that people think should be upheld and reinforced, while capacities are behaviors of what people are capable of doing. Values are conditions that people strive for, give people numerous filters for actions, and are considered valuable in the social world. Once someone has a set of values, their subsequent actions are determined. When capacitarians look at capacities of individuals, they are looking at what actions would have been expected to perform given their capabilities. These actions are expected to be performed because of individual values. This is where we see the two theories speaking a similar language. If we need to know as much information about an individual’s past to form a coherent judgment of blame, then it’s possible these two theories are derived from the same theoretical foundation grounded in the past. The past is important to these two theories as a person’s past actions are suggestive of their values, and the person’s past values are suggestive of what actions someone can do based on their capacities. At this point, to look further into this topic I think it is indispensable to ask, how do we know what someone’s past values or capacities are, and how can we tell if they have led to present conditions? References Aristotle. 2011. Nicomachean Ethics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Arpaly, N. 2004. Unprincipled Virtue: An Inquiry Into Moral Agency. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Baumann, M. 2019. "Consequentializing and Underdetermination" Australasian Journal of Philosophy , 511-527. Bernecker, S. 2011. The Epistemology of Fake News. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Biebel, N. 2017, October 12. Epistemic justification and the ignorance excuse. Retrieved from Springer Link: https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007%2Fs11098-017-0992-4 Copp, D. 2007. "Introduction: Metaethics and Normative Ethics" The Oxford Handbook of Ethical Theory . Harmen, E. 2011. "Does Moral Ignorance Exculpate?" Ratio, XXIV , 443-468. M. Alvarez, &. C. 2017. "When Ignorance is No Excuse" Responsibility: The Epistemic Condition , 1-24. Rosen, G. 2003. "Culpability and Ignorance" Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 103 , 61-84. Rosen, G. 2004. "Skepticism About Moral Responsibility" Philosophical Perspectives, 18 , 295-313. Sliwa, P. 2020. "Excuse without Exculpation: The Case of Moral Ignorance" Oxford Studies in Metaethics , 72-95.

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

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John Taylor and Ben Bernanke on the Great Recession Who Was Right About What Went Wrong? Mikael Hemlin University of Gothenburg University of Oxford London School of Economics Author Hans Lei Leonardo Moraveg Neil Sehgal Editors Fall 2019 Download full text PDF (8 pages) In the autumn of 2007, the United States’ housing market collapsed, pushing the world economy to the brink of disaster. In the US, unemployment rates soared, trillions of dollars of wealth disappeared, and millions of Americans lost their homes in what is generally considered the most severe recession since the Great Depression of the 1930’s. In the aftermath, economists have diligently discussed the properties of the crisis, asking if it could have been prevented and if policymakers could have responded more prudently. The American economist John Taylor has accused US policymakers of paving the way for the housing bubble by conducting an excessively loose monetary policy in the years leading up to the crash, and of prolonging the crisis by responding with measures based on premises that were essentially misguided. Conversely, Ben Bernanke, then Chairman of the Federal Reserve and one of the main targets of Taylor’s critique, offers an opposing view. According to Bernanke, the low federal funds rates during the years 2002–2006 were sound, and did not contribute to the inflation of the housing market to the extent that Taylor describes. Rather, Bernanke claims, it was mainly regulatory flaws that caused the financial collapse, and the actions taken by policymakers prevented the financial system from imploding completely. This essay makes the argument that although monetary policy played a part in the build-up to the crash, it was by no means a defining factor. What sets the Great Recession apart from other economic downturns is the regulatory setting in which the housing bubble developed and the crisis unfolded. As such, the governors of the Federal Reserve are not culpable for the crisis’ occurrence. They, along with the US Treasury, are nevertheless culpable for the misguided policies that were enacted to resolve the situation. Much like Taylor suggests, the measures that were undertaken by the authorities rested on the false presumption that it was lack of liquidity rather than the persistence of counterparty risk that protracted the crisis. The situation could have been dealt with much more efficiently were it not for these misconceptions. Neither Taylor’s nor Bernanke’s argument is convincing on all counts. Rather, it is a combination of the two that offers the most accurate account of what happened. One of the main points of disagreement between Taylor and Bernanke is the role of the Federal Reserve’s loose monetary policy during the years 2002–2006 in inflating the housing market. While Taylor is right in claiming that excessively low interest rates generally accommodate the creation of bubbles, he wrongly alleges that his rule for monetary policy, the Taylor Rule, is detailed enough to work as a reference point for how monetary policy should be conducted, regardless of context. Indeed, as Bernanke argues, the monetary situation in the US in the period 2002–2006 was complex in ways that are unaccounted for in the Taylor Rule. For example, the recovery after the dot-com bubble burst in 2001 was rapid, but did not push down unemployment to the extent that conventional wisdom would suggest. The Taylor Rule does not explicitly account for unemployment, but instead expects it to follow inflation and output as described by Okun’s law and the Phillips curve. Taking into consideration the low inflation rates of the years in question, Bernanke’s argument that raising the FFR at that time would have been deflationary is hardly unfounded. Indeed, while mainstream economic theory would have predicted unemployment to diminish as the economy recovered after 2001, it would also have predicted inflation to fall to very low levels had the Federal Reserve raised the FFR over the period that Taylor suggests. Additionally, as Bernanke points out, the sharp increases in housing prices started in 1998, well before the period of the allegedly too loose monetary policy. Taken together, the evidence above indicates that while the low interest rates before the crisis played a role in inflating the housing market, it was not a major factor. The economic indicators of the time were ambiguous, and the Federal Reserve chose a policy path associated with avoiding the deflationary trap that had suppressed the Japanese economy over the past decades. Nevertheless, the Fed could have better appreciated the instability of the housing market and started raising interest rates in time to prevent the crash from turning into a worldwide financial disaster. If the FFR had been raised a couple of years earlier, the concealed risk in the securities markets could have been exposed without risking a system collapse. In such a scenario, it is plausible that the average creditworthiness of borrowers would have been higher, as lenders would not have had enough time to work their way down to the absolute bottom of the income/asset brackets. In Hyman Minsky’s words, financial practice would not yet have degenerated from “speculative finance” to “Ponzi finance.” As such, the mortgage default rates and banks’ leverage ratios would have been lower, and the recession more manageable. While monetary policy leading up to the crisis did contribute to its onset, the circumstances that magnified the crisis to a global collapse emerged as a result of the government’s exceedingly poor regulatory oversight. Taylor finds that the countries where housing prices rose the steepest were also the ones that deviated the most from his monetary policy rule. He argues that this serves as evidence that the Federal Reserve’s lax monetary policy played a significant role in setting the stage for the crisis. While this statement likely has some truth to it, it suffers from several shortcomings. As mentioned earlier, Bernanke underscores that the housing boom started in 1998 when the FFR was well over 5 percent. Against this background, it is more likely that the regulatory situation both in the US and elsewhere is to blame for the housing boom and subsequent crisis. In 1999, around the same time that Bernanke alleges the boom started, the Clinton administration partially repealed the Banking Act of 1933 (or the Glass-Steagall Act). The act was adopted after the Great Depression to improve financial stability, and essentially separated investment banks and hedge funds from commercial banks. After the repeal, it became legal for financial institutions of all types to merge, thereby making them “too big to fail” and allowing them to engage in larger-scale speculation. This paved the way for a moral hazard and exposed depositors to speculative risk in the process. In addition, the partial repeal failed to give the Securities and Exchange Commission authority to regulate and scrutinise financial institutions, thus allowing for the creation of riskier and ever-more opaque derivatives. As such, the abolishment of parts of the Glass-Steagall Act drastically increased the scale of speculative operations and weakened regulatory oversight, thus shrouding the securities markets in ignorance. Taylor elegantly compares the ensuing situation to a game of hearts, but with many queens of spades instead of just one. Everybody knew that most financial institutions’ balance sheets were riddled with queens of spades, i.e. toxic assets. The problem was that when the crisis hit, nobody could distinguish the toxic assets from the non-toxic ones, and thus, all assets of a kind sharply diminished in value. The indistinguishability of safe mortgage-backed securities from risky ones was in part due to the complexity of the financial instruments in question, and in part due to the failure of the rating agencies to accurately evaluate the risk of the constituent mortgages (Crotty, 2009). This is an issue of poor oversight as well; the rating agencies evaluated the riskiness of loans under the pressure of competition, and therefore consistently gave customers (e.g. banks) the ratings they required to sell off the loans as quickly as possible. Since there were no regulatory mechanisms in place to prevent this from becoming standard practice, it became hugely profitable for banks to grant loans to more or less anyone. The expansive access to credit led the housing market to boom. It is also worth mentioning that the expected future values of the homes that the mortgages financed were included as collateral in the risk evaluations. As such, the stability of the financial system was built on the premise that the US housing market could continue to boom indefinitely. This indicates that it was poor oversight, not lax monetary policy, that paved the way for the housing bubble and the subsequent crisis once the bubble burst. In the wake of the crisis, when the flow of financial transactions had frozen and market interest rates had skyrocketed due to the increased uncertainty and risk, the Federal Reserve and the US Treasury set out to stimulate the economy to prevent it from collapsing altogether. Based on what measures the policymakers chose to enact, it seems they diagnosed the problem to be insufficient liquidity. Taylor correctly claims that they were mistaken—it was excessive counterparty risk, not liquidity, that petrified the financial markets. Among other things, policymakers tried to stimulate aggregate demand by giving out over 100 billion USD in cash to US households. The effects of these cash infusions quickly subsided and had little to no effect in terms of economic recovery. Next, they tried to reduce the financial friction in the system by adopting the so-called Troubled Asset Relief Programme of around 700 billion USD. As the name suggests, the programme sought to relieve troubled financial institutions of bad assets. However, the legislative text lacked a predictable framework as to what kinds of assets would be bought up, at what prices, and what the targeted institutions should do with the money. The consequences were that uncertainty and counterparty risk persisted, and that most of the money was used to buy US Treasury bonds and other safe assets that did not reduce the financial friction in the system (Taylor, 2009). Essentially, the mistake that the policymakers made was to conceive of the crisis as one of liquidity rather than counterparty risk. If counterparty risk in the system is high, then financial friction is high, and if financial friction is high, then neither monetary policy nor fiscal stimulus can restart the economy. This is because the increased risk offsets the effects of any lowering of the FFR or an increase in aggregate demand. Had the problem been diagnosed as excessive counterparty risk from the outset, then predictable and targeted quantitative easing could have been used immediately to remove the toxic assets from the system, thereby decreasing risk and uncertainty. Eventually, quantitative easing was used, but it could have been done much earlier (Taylor, 2009). Neither Taylor nor Bernanke provides a satisfactory account of what went wrong before and during the Great Recession. Taylor is mistaken in claiming that the Federal Reserve’s lax monetary policy in the years leading up to the housing bust is to blame for the crisis. While this might have played a minor role, the fact that the boom began under rather strict monetary conditions and that the Federal Reserve had a strong rationale for its chosen policy path suggests that Bernanke is right that it was inadequate regulation that paved the way for the crash. Nevertheless, Taylor’s critique of the interventions that Bernanke’s Federal Reserve undertook to resolve the crisis is justified. Had it not been for Bernanke’s and other policymakers’ misconception of the crisis as a liquidity shortage rather than an issue of counterparty risk, the recession would have been much less painful. Thus, on a concluding note, future policymakers should enhance the discretion of regulatory authorities to prevent a similar situation from emerging again, and improve the targeting of interventions in the event of a crisis to ensure that they are potent enough to produce the desired effect. Works Cited Bernanke, Ben S. “Monetary Policy and the Housing Bubble.” Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System, January 03, 2010. www.federalreserve.gov/newsevents/speech/bernanke20100103a.htm. 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Kaufman, George G. “Too big to fail in banking: What does it mean?” LSE Financial Markets Group Special Paper Series, Special paper 22, June 2013. www.lse.ac.uk/fmg/assets/documents/papers/special-papers/SP222.pdf. Krugman, Paul. The Return of Depression Economics and the Crisis of 2008. New York, W.W. Norton & Company, 2008. Maues, Julia. “Banking Act of 1933 (Glass-Steagall),” Federal Reserve History. November 22, 2013, https://www.federalreservehistory.org/essays/glass_steagall_act. Miller, Richard A. “Minsky’s financial instability hypothesis and the role of equity: The accounting behind hedge, speculative, and Ponzi finance.” Journal of Post-Keynesian Economics, vol. 41, no. 1, 2018, pp. 126–138. doi.org/10.1080/01603477.2017.1392870. Taylor, John B. “Economic policy and the financial crisis: An empirical analysis of what went wrong.” Critical Review, vol. 21, no. 2-3, January 2009, pp. 341–364. doi.org/10.1080/08913810902974865. 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Two Forms of Environmental-Political Imagination: Germany, the United States, and the Clean Energy Transition All Power to the Imagination Radical Student Groups and Coalition Building in France During May 1968 and the United States during the Vietnam War Calder McHugh Bowdoin College Author Alexis Biegen Sophia Carter Editors Fall 2019 Download full text PDF (26 pages) Abstract Student-led social movements in May of 1968 in France and through the late 1960s and early 1970s in the United States captured the attention of each nation at the time and have had a profound impact on how Americans and French understand their respective states today. Both movements held the lofty goal of completely reshaping their respective societal structures but the vast differences of the cultures in which they were carried out resulted in distinct end results. In France, student protests sparked mass mobilization of the nation and, at their height, were seen by most of the country in a positive light. The broader movement that involved worker participation as well also won material gains for workers in the nation. Across the Atlantic, on the other hand, student protests were met with mostly ill will from the American working class. This work will particularly focus on the ways in which a history of strikes and a popular Communist Party in France both allowed for mass mobilization and stopped the students from pursuing more radical change. It will also work to challenge dominant narratives in political science around coalition building. I. In mid-May, 1968, as 10 million people marched in demonstration through the streets of every major French city, student leader Daniel Cohn-Bendit sat down for a wide-ranging interview with philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre. Bendit cogently articulated his goals for the student movement as well as its potential challenges. “The aim is now the overthrow of the regime,” he said. “But it is not up to us whether or not this is achieved. If the Communist Party, the [general confederation of labor union] CGT and the other union headquarters shared it… the regime would fall within a fortnight.” Six years later and across the Atlantic Ocean, the Weather Underground, a militant leftist organization in its fifth year of operation which was composed of young radicals, published a book entitled Prairie Fire: The Politics of Revolutionary Anti-Imperialism. The Weather Underground wrote, “Our intention is to disrupt the empire… to incapacitate it, to put pressure on the cracks, to make it hard to carry out its bloody functioning against the people of the world, to join the world struggle, to attack from the inside.” II. Radical social movements aimed at the overthrow of capitalism and capitalist-based governments existed throughout the Western world through the late 1960s and early 1970s. In Italy, West Germany, France, and the United States, these movements were particularly wide ranging and distinctly impacted each society, causing momentous political and cultural upheaval. This work will focus on the latter two nations. The mass mobilization that shook France was confined largely to one month: May, 1968. In the middle of March, France’s leading newspaper Le Monde called France’s citizens too “bored” to protest in the same manner that was occurring in West Germany and the United States. A mere six weeks later, after the occupation of the University of Nanterre on March 22nd sparked conversation about collective action around the country, French students occupied the University of Paris at the Sorbonne, in the Latin Quarter of Paris, sparking nightly clashes with the police. Streets were barricaded, all transportation was shut down, and worker mobilization reached a height of 10 million on strike. Notably, students’ grievances were separate from those of the workers. The students rallied around a popular slogan of the time, “all power to the imagination,” which captured their collective interest in enacting changes to the educational system that would allow for a more free and accepting university structure. Comprised of Trotskyites, Maoists, anarchists, and others on the Left, many also believed in the violent overthrow of the 5th Republic of France and the complete reshaping of society. As Suzanne Borde, who in May, 1968 had recently left her childhood home for Paris, said, “Everything changed [in May, 68], my way of thinking, everything… My favorite expression at the time was “La Vie, Vite” (Life, Quickly)! I wanted to change the usual way of life.” The workers, who made up the lion’s share of the protestors but had fewer public clashes with the police, were concerned less with political ideology or societal restructuring than with material gains that would make their lives better, such as wage increases. Their protests ran in conjunction with the students’, but their union was a tenuous one: the French Communist Party (PCF) and its associated labor union Confédération Général du Travail (CGT) controlled much of the political action amongst the workers and was deeply suspicious of the goals of the student movement from its nascent stages. Ultimately, two central events led to the movement’s demise. Maybe ironically, the first was originally interpreted as a success: the protests led to governmental upheaval and President Charles de Gaulle’s temporary departure from the country. After weeks of uncertainty, representatives of de Gaulle’s government negotiated what came to be termed the Grenelle Agreements with the leadership of the CGT. Resulting in more bargaining power for unions as well as a 35 percent minimum wage increase and a 10 percent increase in average real wages, these concessions pacified many workers, leading them back to the factory floor. Second, upon returning to the country on May 30, Charles de Gaulle organized a significant counter-protest on the Champs-Elysees, dissolved the legislature and called for new legislative elections that took place in late June. De Gaulle’s party, the Union of Democrats for the Republic (UDR) won a massive victory and went back to being firmly in control of the nation, while the PCF lost more than half of their seats. Social protest in the United States was not so neatly circumscribed into a few months. Anti-Vietnam War protests took many shapes over numerous years. For the purposes of this work, analysis will be confined to the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) organization, its offshoot groups, and their respective impacts on the broader movement. Launched with the Port Huron Statement in 1962 before the official beginning of the American War in Vietnam in 1965, the organization purposefully did not couch its goals in traditionally communist or Marxist rhetoric, because unlike in France, there was no appetite for it in the United States. Rather, they argued quite persuasively, “We are people of this generation, bred in at least moderate comfort, housed now in universities, looking uncomfortably to the world we inherit.” While fewer than 100 people signed the Port Huron Statement, by 1965, the SDS organized the “March on Washington to End the War in Vietnam,” which 15,000 to 25,000 people from around the country attended. This march both attracted a degree of attention and trained future organizers of better-coordinated marches on Washington, including the November, 1969 Moratorium March on Washington, which had over 250,000 attendees. While SDS remained a strong political force through the late 1960s, by its 1969 convention in Chicago the group had moved significantly to the left ideologically and had developed political differences amongst itself that detached it from the unified spirit of the Port Huron Statement. As SDS gathered in Chicago, by the end of the weekend of June 18-22, three separate factions had emerged. One, calling itself the Progressive Labor Party (PL), argued for Maoist and worker-oriented solutions to what they perceived as the ills of America. Another, the Revolutionary Youth Movement (RYM), became the foundation of what was eventually called the Weather Underground—they advocated for a radicalization of SDS to fight American imperialism alongside the Black Panthers and revolutionary groups around the world. Finally, the Revolutionary Youth Movement II (RYM II) agreed with RYM on most substantive issues, but believed in a more traditional Marxist approach to solve them. According to sociologist Penny Lewis, none of these groups, including the PL whose entire revolutionary strategy was based on cross-class alliance with workers, enjoyed any significant support from the working class. She writes, “The obvious reason for this was the near-unanimous embrace of Cold War anticommunism in the ranks of labor and the collapse of Communist Party influence within the class.” Left without the possibility of even a tenuous connection between young radicals and the broad working class, the Weather Underground began to participate in militant action to attempt to bring the Vietnam war home. In March of 1970, Weather Underground member Bernardine Dohrn anonymously recorded a transmission and sent it to a California radio station on behalf of the group. She warned, “The lines are drawn… Revolution is touching all of our lives. Freaks are revolutionaries and revolutionaries are freaks… within the next 14 days we will bomb a major U.S. institution.” While her timeline was a bit optimistic, the group bombed the Capitol in March of 1971 and the Pentagon in May of 1972, all the while intending not to injure anyone (these two actions had no deaths associated). Their most famous (and infamous) deed was an accident—also in March of 1970, two members (Diana Oughton and Terry Robbins) accidentally detonated a bomb in a Greenwich Village townhouse while assembling homemade explosives, killing themselves and a third “Weatherman” who was walking into the house (Ted Gold). The Weather Underground did continue action after the conclusion of American involvement in Vietnam in 1975, but paired down much of its more violent activities. The group, whose members found their way to the FBI’s Most Wanted List, eventually disbanded; many now work as professors, educating and informing new generations of American thought. III. The outgrowth of the fragile connection between student protest and worker protest in France, as well as the lack of any significant worker mobilization in the United States, has a lot to do with the way each nation developed in the wake of World War II. During the altercations in May, 1968 in France, President Charles de Gaulle and the PCF represented two opposing poles of influence. This, in many ways, defined the conflict: de Gaulle’s fairly centrist (by modern standards) regime was forced to contend with a popular Communist Party facing a radical push from student activists combined with a wellspring of support from French workers. Interestingly, both De Gaulle and the Communists found much of their legitimacy from their actions a quarter-century prior, during World War II. De Gaulle and his supporters, along with the PCF, were the two most significant resistance forces to the collaborationist Vichy government. As such, in the first legislative election after the War in 1945, the PCF won a plurality of the vote, with 26.1 percent, and controlled the most seats in the legislature. De Gaulle did not participate in these elections. By 1967, while the PCF’s support had diminished, it remained a powerful force: they held 21.37 percent of the vote, a slight drop, but were able to build a governing coalition with fellow Leftist parties Federation of the Democratic and Socialist Left (FGDS) and the Unified Socialist Party (PSU). Together, the three received 53.43 percent of the vote. The revolution in 1968, then, did not come out of nowhere. Not only could the PCF count on at least 20 percent of France’s support throughout the 1950s and 60s, it also organized strikes. Significant agrarian protests led by the PCF occurred in 1959 and 1960, and in 1963 strikes reached a zenith of the era before 1968, as the number of days that workers were on strike was the highest in 10 years. As Kenneth Libbey, who is both a scholar of and an advocate for the PCF, argues, “the belief in the ability of a mass movement to sweep aside obstacles to its success is a dominant theme of the party. Its acceptance makes the arguments about the transition to socialism at least plausible.” By May of 1968, significant differences existed between the often anarchist, Maoist, or Trotskyite student groups and the Stalinist PCF and CGT. However, these disagreements on ideology were not significant enough to halt the cross-coalitional movement—at least at first. In the case of Leftist groups in the United States, whether they marched under the Maoist banner of coalition-building with the working class (in the case of the PL movement) or had more anarchist tendencies as well as interest in engaging with black revolutionary groups such as the Black Panthers (in the case of the Weather Underground), they had very little historical precedent or organizational support upon which to draw. Even at its relative peak in 1944, the Communist Party in the United States (CPUSA) only had a confirmed membership of 80,000. In the context of the Cold War, it became impossible to be an avowed Communist in public life. In a period often called the “Second Red Scare” or “McCarthyism,” the United States Congress convened the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in order to attempt to find and punish Communists whom they believed to be working for the Soviet Union. In 1954, the United States government formally outlawed the CPUSA. While in the French case the Communist Party was associated with brave resistance to World War II, politicians in the United States were able to successfully present the CPUSA as a subversive group intent on aiding the Russians in the Cold War. As an ideology, McCarthyism faded through the 1950s and was eventually seen for what it was: a witch-hunt. However, in the Cold War context, a genuine Communist Party in the United States would have been something of an anachronism at best. Thus, radicals in the United States had to both divorce themselves from any extremely weak institutions that did exist and strive to create their own culture and identity. The divergent histories of France and the United States shaped not only the popularity of social movements in the late 1960s, but also the strategies and tactics employed by student radicals in both nations. IV. A shared characteristic of the radical students in France and the United States was their distaste for slow-moving, marginal improvements. In fact, French radical students had been preaching this ideology since the early 1960s. Trotskyite dissidents, many of whom were engaged in the leadership of the 1968 movement, submitted a manifesto to the socialist publication Socialisme ou Barbarie in 1961 outlining many of the same principles as the Weather Underground did eight years later. They argued, “One hundred and fifty years of ‘progress’ and ‘democracy’ have proved that no matter what reforms are applied to the capitalist system they will not change the real situation of the worker.” As is typical of the French case, revolutionary politics are more wrapped up in the labor movement than in the United States. The manifesto continues, “The workers will not be free of oppression and exploitation until their struggles have resulted in setting up a really socialistic society, in which workers’ councils will have all the power, and both production and economic planning will be under worker management.” Fredy Perlman, a student who aided in the shutdown of the Censier Annex of the Sorbonne, believed in a direct connection between the actions at the Universities and the larger strikes. He saw the main contribution of the students at the Censier to be the formation of worker-student action committees, in which the two groups coordinated actions together. Perlman, who published a booklet entitled Worker-student Action Committees, France, 1968 in 1970, wrote, “The formation of the worker-student committees coincides with the outbreak of a wildcat strike: ‘In the style of the student demonstrators, the workers of Sud-Aviation have occupied the factory at Nantes.” For Alain Krivine, the founder of one of the most influential activist groups for youth during 1968, Jeunesse Communiste Révolutionnaire, increased rights for workers were essential to the success of the movement. However, he did not believe that leaders of the unions or the Communist Party best represented the workers’ interests. He says, “For me [leftwing political leaders Pierre] Mendès-France and [François] Mitterand were shit… Mendès-France and Mitterand could be an alternative, but for us it was a bad one.” Student demonstrator Isabelle Saint-Saëns largely agrees. “When we marched with the workers we felt united with them, but it remained theoretical as well,” she said. Nevertheless, the students did see the workers as the key to their success, because they were willing to mobilize and they held such tremendous political power because of their sheer numbers. As opposed to the situation in France, protest in the United States was based largely around denouncing the imperialism inherent within the conflict in Vietnam. In the shadow of the SDS convention in June of 1969, student radicals who formed the leadership of the splinter group of the Weather Underground sprang into action. Leadership of the organization included many young radicals who had been involved in the demonstrations against the Vietnam War at Columbia University the year before, including Bill Ayers, Bernardine Dohrn, and Mark Rudd, who famously wrote in a letter to Columbia President Grayson Kirk: “You call for order and respect for authority; we call for justice, freedom, and socialism. There is only one thing left to say. It may sound nihilistic to you, since it is the opening shot in a war of liberation. I’ll use the words of LeRoi Jones, whom I’m sure you don’t like a whole lot: ‘Up against the wall, motherfucker, this is a stick-up.’” The Weather Underground’s first major action,termed the “Days of Rage,” was scheduled to take place from October 8-11, 1969 in the streets of Chicago. The action’s specific purpose was to protest the trial of the “Chicago Eight,” a group on trial for antiwar activism during the 1968 Democratic National Convention. While they hoped for the participation of around 50,000 militants they got only a few hundred. The action, which included the looting and burning of downtown Chicago appeared not to have a particularly cogent mission, was panned by the mainstream media, but also by many fellow Leftist organizations, who argued that the organizers were alienating the broader public from their cause. The Weather Underground itself, though, argued that the “Days of Rage” were part of a larger effort to “bring the war home.” At this point in the antiwar fight, the Weather Underground had decided that they could not count on the participation of workers because of their lack of any significant socialist or communist sympathies. As such, they planned demonstrations and militant actions to raise the consciousness of the greater populace to the horrors of the war abroad. Friends and siblings who were drafted, sent to Vietnam, and often killed in action particularly galvanized American youth. Partially to announce the formation of the Weather Underground, the group released a manifesto entitled “You Don’t Need A Weatherman To Know Which Way The Wind Blows.” A subsection of this argument, “Anti-Imperialist Revolution and the United Front,” states, “Defeating imperialism within the US couldn’t possibly have the content, which it could in a semi-feudal country, of replacing imperialism with capitalism or new democracy; when imperialism is defeated in the US, it will be replaced by socialism- nothing else. One revolution, one replacement process, one seizure of state power- the anti-imperialist revolution and the socialist revolution, one and the same stage.” Student radicals in the United States saw the need to engender violent revolution in order to move to a state willing to accept socialism as a rational political ideology. The stated aims of the two movements, then, were quite similar. Each believed that their government was not truly democratic, and that there was a distinct need to expel the ruling elite from power. The two groups framed the issue using a shared language of the Left that dealt primarily with expressing solidarity with the oppressed. Divergence in the movements appeared in each group’s understanding of their own role in society. In France, while students were suspicious and sometimes downright dismissive of the PCF and the CGT, they believed they needed the participation of the workers (many of whom were members of those organizations) to succeed. The split at the SDS convention in June of 1969, on the other hand, further alienated the Weather Underground even from fellow Leftist organizations. While the Weather Underground hoped to gain more support for its cause amongst the general populace, the group also understood the nature of the political system in the United States and made the conscious decision to exist outside of it. In “You Don’t Need a Weatherman…” they wrote, “How will we accomplish the building of [a Marxist-Leninist Party]- It is clear that we couldn’t somehow form such a party at this time, because the conditions for it do not exist in this country outside the Black Nation.” Much of the reason for both the divergent outcomes as well as the divergent tactics and framing of the student movements in France and the United States have to do with the political opportunity structures that existed in each nation during the late 1960s. These are broadly rooted in the historical differences in the treatment of Communism as an ideology in both nations. V. Many scholars have argued that the character of the revolution of May 1968 was defined by the youth and, to a lesser degree, intellectuals in the nation. Maybe more important for mass mobilization in France, though, was the history of strikes in the nation. According to French historian Stéphane Sirot, while in other nations strikes are often the result of failed negotiations, in France they frequently occur either during or before negotiations with labor bosses. Strikes are such successful tactics of negotiation because they work on two levels. First, they have an offense element through mass demonstrations that attract the attention of the media. Second, they work defensively in that by refusing to work, they put pressure on bosses to find a quick solution. In their paper, “The Shape of Strikes in France, 1830-1960,” published in 1971, scholars Edward Shorter and Charles Tilly argue that French strikes, while fairly prevalent throughout this period, changed fairly significantly in character in this time period. This, according to Shorter and Tilly, has largely to do with the significant expansion of industrial unionism at the end of the 1930s around the European continent. They use measurements of size, duration, and frequency to calculate the shape that these strikes took. Below is an example of their model: Table 1.1 This table shows two distinct strike scenarios. What Shorter and Tilly refer to as “Industry X” represents a scenario in which strikes are long but small and occur fairly infrequently. “Industry Y” has strikes that occur more frequently and with a larger size, but do not last for as long. By the 1960s in France, the model for strikes looked quite a bit more like “Industry Y” than “Industry X.” Below is, once again, Shorter and Tilly’s graphic explanation of this phenomenon, based on the historical cataloguing of strikes: Table 1.2 This is significant in that massive, short demonstrations, while not necessarily more successful than those that are smaller and play out over a longer period of time, are wont to receive more attention from the public and the media due to their dramatic nature. The sheer mass of strikes through the 1960s made it easier for workers to mobilize around issues that ran adjacent to the concerns of the students, such as rights to self-management in any workplace, but were certainly not the same. Conversely, in the United States before 1968 there were few examples of large scale strikes. Other than the steel workers’ strike in 1959, which included around half a million participants, frequent general strikes had not existed in the nation since the 19th Century. Additionally, while union activity was certainly stronger in the 1960s in the United States than it is today, the protests of the 1960s were more focused on the antiwar effort than the rights of workers. VI. Likely due at least partially to their comfort with general strikes and mass mobilization, the French populace largely supported the students and their efforts to protest, expressing ire for the police force when they clashed. On May 10, 1968, in what has since been termed the “night of the barricades” (because of barriers that students constructed to slow down police), French police and students clashed violently in the streets of Paris. 80 percent of Parisians, though, supported the students and believed fault in escalating the violence lay with the police. Nevertheless, cultural differences between the youth and both the ruling class and worker allies persisted in France as well, which manifested themselves in the priorities of the students. Before the revolution of 1968, the French schooling system was extremely restrictive. Students could not voice their own ideas in the classroom and the gender and sexual politics of the university were also extremely conservative—men and women were often divided. Thus, in considering how all of French society should change, the University system was at the front of many students’ minds. As Perlman argued about the revolutionary movement, “What begins [when the Universities are occupied] is a process of collective learning; the "university," perhaps for the first time, becomes a place for learning. People do not only learn the information, the ideas, the projects of others; they also learn from the example of others that they have specific information to contribute, that they are able to express ideas, that they can initiate projects. There are no longer specialists or experts; the division between thinkers and doers, between students and workers, breaks down. At this point all are students.” As might be expected, while many supported the broad protests of the students and their right to do so, concepts like the total change in University structure, for which Perlman argued, were less popular or important to much of French society. Thus, the French students created their own political ideology and culture that was often separate from that of the more institutionalized labor movements. However, while their culture and their priorities often separated them from the workers, the French students also believed the workers to be necessary to their success. When the Grenelle Accords were signed and a majority of the workers agreed to go back to work, students quickly demobilized. As scholar Mitchell Abidor argues in the introduction to his oral history May made me, “For the workers, it was not the qualitative demands of the students that mattered, but their own quantitative, bread-and-butter issues.” Ultimately, French students were incapable of understanding or accepting this. Abidor continues, “The ouvriérisme—the workerism—so strong on the French left led the students to think the workers were the motor of any revolution, which left the vehicle immobile because the engine was dead.” So, after the workers returned to work, the students also quite quickly demobilized. The alliance between the students and the workers in France was further complicated by the students’ tenuous relationship to the PCF and CGT, organizations which were active participants in the society that students were striving to upend. The PCF and CGT, naturally concerned with their parties’ success, framed their arguments and made agreements based on the existing political opportunity structure in France. Many student radicals, on the other hand, saw it as their charge to revise those very structures. The PCF was thus forced to walk a fine line between maintaining its own institutional legitimacy and representing the more revolutionary elements of its own party. According to Libbey, French Professor Georges Lavau thus argues, “[the PCF] has assumed the role of tribune: articulating the grievances of discontented groups as well as defending the gains of the workers against attempts by the bourgeoisie to undermine them. The PCF has thus become a legitimate channel for protest, protecting the system from more destructive outbursts. This protection failed in 1968, of course, but Lavau contends that the party’s role of tribune nonetheless coloured its response to the crisis.” Lavau and Libbey’s contention that the PCF lost the role of tribune in May of 1968 is worth noting because although the CFDT and the CGT were the ones to negotiate with de Gaulle’s government, they had lost control of the situation. They were able, ultimately, to demobilize the workers, but they lost significant support, which showed in the elections of June, 1968 where they lost half of their seats. The Grenelle Accords in many ways crystallized the differences between the gauchiste students and the institutionalized, Stalinist political parties. These differences, which existed throughout the movement, were momentarily put aside as everyone took to the streets. After most workers returned to the factory floor, though, student radicals, as well as radical elements within the Communist Party, discussed their disappointment with the limited scope of the Grenelle Accords. Prisca Bachelet, who was helped to organize the nascent stages of the movement during demonstrations at the University of Nanterre on March 22, 1968, said of the leaders of the CGT, “they were afraid, afraid of responsibility.” Éric Hazan, who was a cardiac surgeon and a radical Party member during 1968, argued the Communists’ actions at the end of May and their negotiations with the government amounted to “Treason. Normal. A normal treason.” Student Jean-Pierre Vernant argued, “The May crisis is not explained and is not analyzed [by the Party]. It is erased.” The students and their allies had good reason for frustration. They believed the Party theoretically meant to represent them betrayed many of the principles for which they were fighting. Members of the Communist Party also quite obviously held distaste for many of the student radicals. In a very obvious reference to the student movement, Communist Party leader Roland Leroy said at the National Assembly on May 21, 1968, “The Communists are not anarchists whose program tends to destroying everything without building anything.” For their part, the students’ significant miscalculation, was that they believed Party leaders like Leroy did not speak for the interests of the workers. Hélène Chatroussat, a Trotskyite, argued at the time, “I said to myself, [the workers] are many, they’re with us… so why don’t they tell the Stalinists [the PCF] to get lost so we could come in and they could join us?” To the contrary, many of the workers who went on strike in the factories were uninterested in broader political change or politics in general. They simple hoped for a positive change to their material conditions. As Colette Danappe, a worker in a factory outside Paris, told Mitchell Abidor, “The students were more interested in fighting, they were interested in politics, and that wasn’t for us.” Danappe continued about the Grenelle Accords, “We got almost everything we wanted and almost everyone voted to return… Maybe we were a little happier, because we had more money. We were able to travel afterwards.” At first glance, it would appear that the situation in the United States and the goals of antiwar demonstrators would have made it easier to mobilize a broader cross-section of the population. By mid-May of 1971, 61% of Americans responded “Yes, a mistake” to the Gallup poll question, “In view of developments since we entered the fighting in Vietnam, do you think the U.S. made a mistake in sending troops to fight in Vietnam?” However, a larger segment of the older population in the United States was against the war than the younger generation. These older Americans did not support the war, but largely did not support protest movements either. The lasting images of social movements in the United States in the 1960s all include what came to be referred to as “the counterculture.” The counterculture is depicted, stereotypically, as young men and women with flowers in their hair, listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival, and holding radical aspirations for the dawn of a new age in America. This group was generally maligned by significant portions of older generations of Americans in particular, who believed the youth movement to be related more to drug use than to any serious concern. While the counterculture’s goals of promoting peace and community were in many ways quite sincere, with the fear of the draft adding to their outrage, an older generation of Americans refused to take their style of protest seriously. Table 1.3 This table explains mobilization. The situation in France in May of 1968 can be found in the bottom-right box: the broad-based grievances of students were largely supported and they found political allies in the labor and Communist parties. In the United States, mass mobilization did not occur on the same scale, because although the popularity of the grievance was high (as support for the American War in Vietnam was low), no significant political allies (who could have been found in the older generation of anti-war Americans) existed. This situation can be found in the top-right box. This disdain for the youth movement was made obvious in the way that Walter Cronkite and Dan Rather covered clashes at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Members of the counterculture movement, calling themselves “Yippies” (included in this group were many members of the SDS), descended onto Chicago to protest the Vietnam War and the lack of democracy inside the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination selection. Cronkite had already argued on air that the Vietnam War had become unwinnable, but when he and Rather covered the 1968 DNC together, their attention was focused on normative politics as a whole—and they quite obviously had very little respect for the protestors. Each argued that it was the Yippies who provoked a bloody confrontation with the police, with Rather stating that, “Mayor Richard Daly vowed to keep it peaceful, even if it took force to keep the peace. He was backed by 12,000 police, 5,000 national guardsmen, and 7,500 regular army troops. But the Yippies succeeded—they got their confrontation.” Through the 1960s, many protest and counter-culture groups (including the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, Americans for Democratic Action, and Vietnam Veterans Against the War, to name a few) created and sustained significant cultural differences from much of American society. Members of the Weather Underground, despite some of their uniquely militant positions, dressed and spoke in a language that was common to the broader counterculture movement. They did so largely because they felt themselves unable to work within the boundaries of a political system that, even on the left, did not come close to representing their political ideology. In forming their own cultural identity, Leftist groups in the United States did manage to catch the attention of the masses, even if that attention was largely negative. In this way, their issues and demands were placed at the center of the conversation, causing a fraught societal debate. VII. The legacies of the social movements of the late 1960s in the United States and France are hotly debated. Historian Tony Judt, holding an unmistakable disdain for the student movement in France, wrote, “It is symptomatic of the fundamentally apolitical mood of May 1968 that the best-selling books on the subject a generation later are not serious works of historical analysis, much less the earnest doctrinal tracts of the time, but collections of contemporary graffiti and slogans. Culled from the walls, noticeboards and streets of the city, these witty one-liners encourage young people to make love, have fun, mock those in authority, generally do what feels good—and change the world almost as a by-product… This was to be a victimless revolution, which in the end meant it was no sort of revolution at all.” On the other hand, scholar Simon Tormey wrote about the events of May of 1968, “1968 represented a freeing up of politics from the congealed, stodgy and unimaginative understandings that had so dogged the emergence of an oppositional politics after the second world war. It unleashed a wave of joyous experimentation, evanescent and spontaneous efforts to challenge the dull routine of the repetitious lives that had been constructed in and through advanced capitalism.” As we can see, this duality of point-of-view about revolutionary movements existed both in France and the United States. While the Weather Underground, without any significant political allies and carrying a negative media portrayal from the press, has mostly been portrayed negatively in the years since, some scholars believe that they altered a broader American consciousness. As Arthur Eckstein writes, “Thousands of New Leftists agreed with the Weathermen’s analysis of what had gone awry in America… the last 50 years have seen remarkable progress in black rights, women’s rights, gay rights, Hispanic and Asian rights… Weatherman’s violence... did not impede that progress.” Although Eckstein certainly does not offer a ringing endorsement of their militant tendencies, he does argue here that the group spawned social progress in a way that they did not expect they would. Interestingly enough, these more positive interpretations from historians and political scientists contradict the feelings of the student radicals themselves. Neither group had an exact moment of demobilization, but it became increasingly clear to young leaders throughout the early 1970s that they had not fomented the change for which they had hoped. In France especially, a growing frustration existed towards the Communist Party and its Labor wing, which points quite obviously to the dangers of coalition building. Students’ purported political allies came to be thought of as traitors by many of the student radicals. These frustrations and divisions that were born in 1968 proceeded, if not directly led, to the French Communist Party’s long slide into irrelevance during the 1970s and 80s, as Abidor argues. He writes, “Once it lost the PCF as the mediating force to represent its grievances, the French working class fulfilled Herbert Marcuse’s 1972 warning that “The immediate expression of the opinion and will of the workers, farmers, neighbors—in brief, the people—is not, per se, progressive and a force of social change: it may be the opposite.” The PCF understood this latent conservatism in the working class of 1968. Not so the New Left student movement.” The coalition was successful very briefly in May and resulted in positive material gains for workers—through pay raises, France became a little bit more equal. The most significant legacies of movements in France and the United States, though, were separate from any coalition. The French and the American students, each galvanized to be part of the revolutionary vanguard and inspired to change their societies, felt a deep sense of disappointment after the events of the late 1960s. Broken alliances and dashed goals led to the perception that they had let themselves and their ideals down. Measured this way, revolution failed, and Judt is right to argue that in this context, “it was no sort of revolution at all.” A middle ground perspective is well-explained by May ’68 protestor Suzanne Borde, who noted, “It made it possible to change the way children were educated, leading many teachers to reflect and to teach differently. Experimental schools opened... But it had no consequences on political life and failed to changed anything real.” Holding a completely different interpretation of the outcome, Maguy Alvarez, an English teacher in France, told New York Times journalist Alissa Rubin, “Everything was enlarged by 1968; it determined all my life.” Rubin titled the article “May 1968: A Month of Revolution Pushed France Into the Modern World.” So, maybe “these witty one-liners [that encouraged] young people to make love, have fun, mock those in authority, generally do what feels good,” did change France as a byproduct. The kicker of Alvarez’s quote is that she told it to Rubin not as she was deeply examining the political consequences of the era, but as she was walking through an exhibition of posters and artworks from the period. During his interview with Borde, Abidor noted towards the end of the discussion, “May ’68 didn’t result in anything concrete, then.” Borde responded, “Sure it did. It completely changed the way I live.” VIII. Much of the existing literature in the field of social movement theory is concerned with the ways in which social groups successfully frame their movements to a broader public in order to increase popular support, political allies, and best take advantage of existing political opportunity structures. This work, although not formatted with a traditional structure of similar systems design, is concerned with the comparison of a social movement that attempts to tap into public support (French student movement) with another that appears to at times actively avoid building coalitions (the Weather Underground). More than anything else, the historical differences in France and the United States led to vastly different political opportunity structures for each social movement in the late 1960s. Yet neither group compromised their idealistic political ideology, and for this reason both groups failed to achieve their ultimate goals. Nevertheless, both did change cultural aspects of the societies in which they operated. The conclusion of these movements’ cultural success, despite their political failure, challenges existing social movement literature that argues that successful social movements should attempt always to build broad support. French student radicals found cultural success not because of their coalition with the working class but often despite it. In the United States, much of the lasting memory of the SDS occurred after it split into the Weather Underground. Certainly, a degree of this remembrance is negative—French student radicals with their “power to the imagination” are remembered in a much rosier light than the Weather Underground, which is often considered a terrorist organization in the United States. However, the Weather Underground and its writings continue to inspire generations of young activists, who do not necessarily ascribe to their militant tactics but are inspired by its political ideology. Coalition building can without a doubt aid in the success of a social movement. However, it can also at times minimize its impact. As we examine these two distinct approaches to creating change, our analysis shows that coalition building might support the historical imagination, but it can hinder change. IX. Since the financial crisis of 2008, questions of the value of coalition building have continued to roil activists, in particular in the United States, which precipitated the 2008 global financial crisis and now exists in a period of unstable economic and political development that scholars have called a “crisis of neoliberalism.” Current social protest movements have faced some of the same issues confronting protestors in the 1960s and early 1970s—the Occupy Wall Street movement presents a worthy case study. In many respects, the Occupy movement is the closest analog in recent history to the May 1968 movement in France. Sparked by young people, the protests were concerned with income inequality and were able to create an entirely new language to talk about money in this country through popular slogans—“we are the 99%.” Branding itself a revolutionary movement, Occupy eschewed traditional leadership structures and declared an “occupation of New York City” on September 29, 2011 which resulted in a series of clashes with the police and ended in the protestors being forced out of their home base of Zuccotti Park on November 15 of the same year. Protests continued for months afterwards around the world, but did not maintain the same sort of zeal as they did in September, October, and November of 2011. While the Occupy movement quickly burned and petered out in a similar way to May 68, its results are of a somewhat different character than those in France and are thus worth examining here. Most significantly, the United States government was never forced to come to the bargaining table with Occupy, and their leaderless movement has been criticized for never laying out concrete demands. Additionally, though, the amorphous nature of the group allowed it to buck trends of significant splintering along ideological lines—post-Occupy activism has simply dispersed to campaigns like #AbolishICE and protesting the Keystone XL Pipeline. Its greatest success has likely been the proliferation of discussion of income inequality in the United States, which has led to campaigns for an increased minimum wage. However, in a similar way to the student protestors in France, questions remain as to whether “we are the 99%” has been honored or coopted. Hillary Clinton launched her 2016 presidential campaign in Iowa with the statement “the deck is still stacked in favor of those at the top.” Ted Cruz highlighted in the lead-up to 2016 “the top 1% earn a higher share of our income nationally than any year since 1928” and Jeb Bush said “the income gap is real.” The rhetoric is well and good, but each of these politicians has, according to Occupy, aided in the widening of this gap. There are positive messaging lessons to be learned from the Occupy movement for other protest groups, but in many respects Occupy lost control of the narrative—the shrinking 1% now speaks for the 99%. Bibliography: Abidor, Mitchell. May made me: an oral history of the 1968 uprising in France. Chico: AK Press, 2018. Abidor, Mitchell. “1968: When the Communist Party Stopped a French Revolution.” New York Review of Books. April 19, 2018. https://www.nybooks.com/daily/2018/04/19/ . 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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). 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Editorial board Foreword Volume II Issue II Introducing the fourth issue of JPPE In recent years, inequality has been discussed at an increasing rate in academic and political spheres. There is a growing rate of inequality along every method of measurement. Within the United States, there is growing income and wealth inequality. On an international level, global inequality studies find that a large portion of the world’s wealth is held by a shockingly small portion of the world’s population. This problem has grabbed the attention of numerous academic and nongovernmental organizations. Inequality has come to the forefront of numerous 2020 US presidential campaigns. Within the Democratic primary, many candidates cited inequality as a central concern and offered a wide variety of solutions. Brown alum Andrew Yang introduced the concept of a Universal Basic Income plan to the global stage, while Senator Bernie Sanders has proposed a wealth tax as one part of his sweeping economic policy. This edition of the Brown Journal of Philosophy, Politics and Economics is intended to help contribute to the conversation on inequality through our feature interviews and submissions. In our conversations with Former Greek Minister of Finance Yanis Varoufakis and American Economist Paul Krugman, we discussed the prevalence of inequality and its potential causes. While we have some recurring themes in our issue, it is our hope that this issue holds something of interest for all its readers. The Brown Journal of Philosophy, Politics and Economics continues to discuss a wide variety of topics that are analyzed through the distinct yet complementary lenses of philosophy, politics and economics. Pieces like “John Taylor and Ben Bernanke on the Great Recession – Who Was Right About What Went Wrong?” examines historical events, while “Respect for the Smallest of Creatures: An Analysis of Human Respect for and Protection of Insects” applies the lens of PPE to the theoretical. We believe that the distinct topics examined, and the insights gleaned from them, are enhanced when combined