Peaceful Animals A Look into Black Pacifism and the Pedagogy of Civil Rights in American Public Education Jade Fabello The University of Texas at Austin Author Anchita Dasgupta Alexander Ogilvy Alexis Biegen Audrey McDermott Editors Fall 2019 Download full text PDF (9 pages) The following are the key points of the American civil rights movement according to current United States public education curricula. First, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King nobly campaigned for peace and nonviolence. Then Rosa Parks, feeling tired, refused to give up her seat on a bus. Another figure, Malcolm X, was similar to King but he was violent. And then tragically, a random actor shot Dr. King in the cheek. That is where the story usually ends. American racial tensions subsided until the election of Barack Obama. This oversimplification reflects the entirety of the knowledge imparted to many who have experienced the United States public education system. American history education is, in a word, lacking. United States history curricula downplay the impact felt by marginalized groups in this country, producing alarming results. This paper asserts that the pedagogy of Black history in American middle and high school public education centers around convenient and pointed narratives. Especially with regard to forms of protests during the civil rights movement, these narratives have been intentionally structured in a manner that, by way of purposeful omission and harmful misinterpretation, promote the passivity and pacifism of Black Americans. Obtaining accurate and comprehensive information about the Black American condition is an endeavor that one must explicitly elect to partake in. Simple reflection by anyone who has been exposed to American public education reveals that the most prominent figures discussed are white. The history of minority groups seldom sees the light within core curricula. This contemporary self-taught requirement for knowledge acquisition directly parallels to American Slavery. As explored in Self-Taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom by Heather Andrea Williams, African Americans’ quest for education has historically been an uphill battle. Unsurprisingly, society rarely provided enslaved individuals a means to an education. The barriers to literacy and other such skills have historically been high. In 1830, North Carolina passed a statute making the education of slaves—either by freedmen or other slaves—a harshly punishable crime. The internal logic of the law operated with an understanding of the relationship between denial of education and self-preservation of the system. As Frederick Douglass states in The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave: “The more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers." By affording knowledge and context to the oppressed, the oppressor risks lessening their status as such. Douglass’ education directly facilitated his liberation and eventual coalescence into the abolition movement. While the laws may have changed, the mechanisms that work to suppress Black political action remain as a product of Black history education. To understand this, one must first endeavor to comprehend the pedagogical evolution of the gravest ill inflicted upon Black bodies in America: equating Black people with animals. Intense and categorical dehumanization is a central part of the institution of slavery. In the US Constitution, Article 1, Section 2, Clause 3: the Three-Fifths Compromise, the language of dehumanization of Black people is codified into the most important document of the American polity. Societal justifications and the cognitive dissonance required for the institution of slavery are well discussed in modern academic literature. Broadly speaking, however, the afterlives and scope of the brutality of slavery continue to be poorly understood. In his work The Autobiography of Malcolm X as told to Alex Haley, Malcolm X balked at the historical knowledge that the average Black American possessed, saying “it’s unbelievable how many black men and women have let the white man fool them into holding an almost romantic idea of what slave days were like." Prior to the Civil Rights Movement, slavery was often suggested to be a mutually beneficial situation. In return for food and shelter, slaves provided free labor to their masters. This specific framing is fortunately less common than in previous eras. Nevertheless, it would be incorrect to assume that this erroneous pedagogy is a relic of the past. In 2015, the New York Times revealed that a textbook by major publishing company McGraw-Hill Education printed the phrase “the Atlantic Slave Trade… brought millions of workers from Africa to the southern United States to work on agricultural plantations." This example of nomenclature choice presents an active rewriting of history. The word “workers” implies a compensation that was non-existent in American slavery. Captured Africans and American Blacks were used as currency; they did not receive it. These specific and at times subtle framings contribute to the understating of American slavery. Every individual choice of diction carries moral and political content. It is in the exact verbiage of American historical documents that laid the groundwork for the evolving and sustained systems of Black oppression. If in contemporary times the basic foundations of Black people being in America are understood as a consensual employment, then the opportunity for discussion of the continued maltreatment of Black people has no foothold. After some controversy, McGraw-Hill Education acknowledged the error. However, the “misprinted” issues will likely circulate for years to come (McAfee). This instance, which some would consider an outlier, does not deviate significantly from the actual standards. Improvement from past pedagogies is undeniable, however, the present approach to education does not adequately capture the brutalities and atrocities of enslavement. The current educational system cannot afford proper context for the current state of being for the Black individual, without recognizing the inhuman cruelty that has been historically inflicted upon the Black community in America. Simultaneously, members of unafflicted groups have less of a basis from which they can understand contentions asserting the continued existence of institutional racism. Racism is deeply woven into many facets of society, making it difficult to pinpoint parties solely responsible for the historical miseducation of American youth. However, when it comes to a substantial portion of the information diffused throughout the nation, few governing bodies have more of a direct impact than the Texas Board of Education. Former social studies textbook editor Dan Quinn states: “What happens in Texas doesn’t stay in Texas when it comes to textbooks." The Texas market for textbooks is unequivocally large. Therefore, the guidelines set in place by this body have profound implications on the textbooks received by much of the nation. This reality is extremely troublesome when we look at both statements made by board officials and some of the recent sets of the Texas Essential Knowledge and Skills (TEKS), which outlines the curriculum required for Texas public schools. After the board adopted the then-new standards in 2010, board member Pat Hardy was quoted saying “there would be those who would say the reason for the Civil War was over slavery. No. It was over states’ rights." While this statement is from 2010, its impact and that of other comments like it are still apparent and intensely relevant. A 2018 survey of one thousand high school seniors by the Southern Poverty Law Center found that only eight percent of students can correctly identify slavery as the central cause of the civil war. Attempts to relegate slavery to an insignificant role takes away agency from Black individuals who sought their liberation through their tireless strife against slavery. Correcting pedagogy is a particularly challenging endeavor. The agents of that change—educators and guideline setters—are often the products of miseducation themselves. The Southern Poverty Law Center notes that “teachers struggle to do justice to the nation’s legacy of racial injustice. They are poorly served by state standards and frameworks, popular textbooks and even their own academic preparation." The Texas State Board of Education did recently agree to acknowledge the centrality of slavery in the Civil War. While credit is due, this is merely a starting line and does not rectify the other deficiencies in standards or the in-classroom experience of teaching with racial ineptitude. The official TEKS has only included Jim Crow Laws and the Ku Klux Klan as teaching requirements as of the November 2018 revisions. This former exclusion again has contributed to the dismissal of suffering crucial to contextualization. However, the document has long since mentioned the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King (TEA 7). King’s remarkable contributions towards assisting the Black condition are undeniable and merit inclusion into educational standards. However, the way the American education system broaches King further promotes the pacification of the Black race. The current collective consciousness greatly downplays the radicalism of King and fellow Civil Rights leader Rosa Parks. Peter Dreier, a professor of politics and director of the Urban & Environmental Policy department at Occidental College, discusses how “in the popular legend, Parks is portrayed as a tired old seamstress…who, on the spur of the moment...decided to resist the city’s segregation law by refusing to move to the back of the bus on December 1, 1955." However, Dreier continues to explain that the reality of the situation was that the move came as a result of a massive coordinated effort on the part of veteran activists. This account is corroborated by (among other sources) Taylor Branch’s Parting the Waters , Stewart Burns’ Daybreak of Freedom: The Montgomery Bus Boycott , and Rosa Parks’ autobiography, My Story . The removal from America’s shared memory of the careful and calculated effort to dismantle Jim Crow sells short the scale of the effort required to uproot institutional boundaries. He continues, “Contemporary struggles for justice...may seem modest by comparison to the movements of the 1960s that began in Montgomery in 1955." The false yet ubiquitous narrative of the she was tired, so she sat cause and effect ignores the radical line of thinking that openly and actively defies American racism. The simplification of Parks’ actions in education resources does not accurately depict the radical schools of thought that she exemplified. The pacified version of King, provided to the average American student, debases his radical ideas and uses them to combat current political and social movements. King has often been haphazardly invoked in attempts to pacify or condemn post-police brutality rioters or NFL protesters. We live in a time where it is antiquated to believe that online comments hold no relevance in the grander discourse. The term internet “trolls” is currently included in official reports created by top United States Federal Agencies. Posts on YouTube, Facebook, Twitter or other such sites are legitimate reflections of the society in which they originated. As such, the vitriol and ignorance found in online commentary are troubling indications of mass miseducation. Politicians and individuals use specifically-curated King quotes to fit whatever narrative is convenient. This pacified version of King is then in turn used to pacify Black people. These protest-dissenting claims bear no mind to the wider breadth of the King library of thought—which includes the September 27th, 1966 CBS interview, in which King stated: “I think that we’ve got to see that a riot is the language of the unheard." Dr. King’s vocabulary was not limited to the four word phrase “I have a dream.” While he may not have endorsed violence in the context of social movements, it is apparent that King’s thoughts on riots would not align with those who often champion his name. In modern America, King is near universally understood to be a figure worthy of praise. It is so often forgotten that King was fiercely unpopular with the majority of society for much of his life. In 1966, the Gallup measure of King polled his admiration levels at 32% positive and 63% negative. Yet modern mythos takes this for granted. The education system inserts into popular consciousness a particular mold of how an oppressed Black person seeking change should act. That mold is a very corrupted memory of Dr. King. To call King strictly nonviolent is itself misleading. While King’s rhetoric may have been very deliberate, one can not divorce racism from violence. King and his followers employed a disciplined sacrifice of the Black body. The violence was there. It simply was not directed towards white bodies or white property. We are presented with King because he comparatively easy to digest. His general message of nonviolence is malleable. Little to no emphasis is regarded to the failures, shortcomings, and bitter reality of the civil rights movement as a means for achieving social change. Despite King’s desire to expose the grave violence of racism, the presented, pared down version of him does not force us as a collective to deeply explore the gravity of the injustices placed against Black people. A firehose directed at protestors, while shocking and horrific, still rests easier on people’s minds than the state-sponsored murder of Black Panther Captains. Further, the High School TEKS does briefly mention the Black Panther Party for the sake of contrasting their beliefs with those of MLK. The author of this paper, themself a product of Texas high school public education, can attest that in practice this comparison amounts to a further dismissal of the validity of their actions—while touting King’s “peaceful” approach. Neither the middle school nor high school TEKS makes reference to King’s influential counterpart, Malcolm X. Again anecdotally, mentions of Malcolm X consists of characterizing him as violent and little else. In the civil rights section of the San Jacinto Museum’s Curriculum Guide for Teaching Texas History , which aligns with TEKS, Non-Violent Protest is the first critical vocabulary point. Shortly thereafter, the curriculum suggests that “students should have a basic knowledge of the rights of United States’ citizens to petition the government for a solution to grievances." Again, while there is validity in discussion around this form of protest, the same section draws the parallel to the “Declaration of Independence as a list of complaints by the colonists against King George in England." It is ironic that a proudly boasted and bloody revolution was subsequent to that list of complaints, while Black Power groups, which almost exclusively subscribed to revolutionary mentalities, receive no mention in the Guide. In America, “violence” is an acceptable means to achieve an end as long as those who carry it out are not of a dark complexion. The themes of what has been selectively chosen to receive praise or condemnation in our teachings of history, while not surprising, have dire implications. In America, passivity and pacifism are standards that are disproportionately held to Black and Brown bodies. Malcolm X articulated this point to an LA crowd in 1962: The white man is tricking you. He’s trapping you. He doesn’t call it violence when he lands troops in South Vietnam. He doesn’t call it violence when he lands troops in Berlin. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, he didn’t say get nonviolent. He said, “Praise the Lord but pass the ammunition.” The double standard outlined by X places boundaries on current political efforts lest they risk misaligning with the beliefs of the deified King. The complexities of Malcolm X’s ever-evolving racial beliefs cannot be justly covered within the scope of this paper. But the classification of his actions and beliefs as merely violent is wildly inaccurate and harmful. X’s more direct and introspective approach presents a perspective that we can not afford to remove from education standards. Major influential names of the Black Power movement similarly receive no mention. For example, the status quo completely ignores the perspectives of Fred Hampton, the young Panther captain who was assassinated by the FBI, and Robert F. Williams, author of the book Negroes with Guns . This erasure limits both Americans’ understanding of the context in which these ideologies evolved and their understanding of the options available to combat systemic oppression. The omission of these figures is indicative of a larger narrative that operates under the impression that Blacks are innately dangerous creatures, and therefore should not be encouraged to take a bold and active role in liberation, lest they risk harming white Americans. America frowns upon the idea that Blacks should either want or need to defend themselves. The absence of these individuals (X included) from not only TEKS but the AP US History Guideline and Common Core standards is indicative of the devaluation of an entire school of thought. There are subjective flaws in the ideologies of both King and X. However, by only providing a simplified and one-sided narrative of the pursuit for Black Liberation, the historical curriculum discourages radical approaches of combating deeply rooted problems. Education’s intrinsic relationship with a successful society is best defined by iconic author James Baldwin in 1963: Man is a social animal. He cannot exist without a society...Now the crucial paradox which confronts us here is that the whole process of education occurs within a social framework and is designed to perpetuate the aims of society. Thus, for example, the boys and girls who were born during the era of the Third Reich, when educated to the purposes of the Third Reich, became barbarians. The paradox of education is precisely this—that as one begins to become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated. The purpose of education, finally, is to create in a person the ability to look at the world for himself…But no society is really anxious to have that kind of person around. What societies really, ideally, want is a citizenry which will simply obey the rules of society. If a society succeeds in this, that society is about to perish. By leaving out parts of the story, the United States stifles the consistent efforts of radicals and revolutionaries to reveal evidence of how the country has undermined the civil rights of Black Americans in the past and present. Our education system helps to perpetuate a narrative of both Black inhumanity and Black pacifism. In order to give Black youth the tools to contextualize and confront the contemporary manifestations of racism that our education system neglects to address, US public education must deliberately address the duality of the civil rights movement: a struggle for Black Liberation that has been both peaceful and violent. Works Cited "Act Passed by the General Assembly of the State of North Carolina at the Session of 1830—1831" (Raleigh: 1831). “AP® United States History Including the Curriculum Framework.” College Board Web. 5 Dec. 2016. Baldwin, James. "The Negro Child - His self Image." 16 October 1963, Lecture. Brown, Emma, “Texas officials: Schools should teach that slavery was ‘side issue’ to Civil War.” The Washington Post. Web. 5 December 2016. Colins, Gail @nybooks. "How Texas Inflicts Bad Textbooks on Us." The New York Review of Books. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Dec. 2016. Douglass, Frederick, Gregory Stephens, and Peter J. Gomes. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print. Dreier, Peter. "Rosa Parks: Angry, Not Tired." Dissent 53.1 (2006): 88-92. Web. Fernandez, Manny, and Christine Hauser. "Texas Mother Teaches Textbook Company a Lesson on Accuracy." The New York Times. The New York Times, 2015. Web. 13 Sept. 2016. Gallup, Inc. “Martin Luther King Jr.: Revered More After Death Than Before.” Gallup.com, 16 Jan. 2006,news.gallup.com/poll/20920/martin-luther-king-jr-revered-More-after- death-than-before.aspx. McAfee, Meloncyee. "McGraw-Hill to Rewrite Textbook after Mom's Complaint." CNN. Cable News Network, n.d. Web. 05 Dec. 2016. National Governors Association Center for Best Practices, Council of Chief State School McGaughy, Lauren. “Texas History Curriculum: Hillary Clinton and Alamo 'Heroes' Are in. Oprah's Out.” Dallas News, 16 Nov. 2018, www.dallasnews.com/news/education/ 2018/11/13/texas-education-board-debate-eliminating-helen-keller-hillary-clinton-others-history-curriculum. Officers Title: Common Core State Standard. National Governors Association Center for Best Practices, Council of Chief State School Officers, Washington D.C. Copyright Date: 2010 Pittman,Yvonne, Appleby, Elizabeth, and Stuthers, Lisa. “Curriculum Guide for Teaching Texas History.” San Jacinto Museum of History One Monument Circle. Jan 8. 2013 Rothman, Lily, "What Martin Luther King Jr Really Thought About Riots." Time. Time, n.d. Web. 05 Dec. 2016. Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC). “Teaching Hard History American Slavery.” Web. 17 Nov. 2018. Texas Education Agency (TEA). "Texas Education Agency - Texas Essential Knowledge and Skills. Chapter 113. Texas Essential Knowledge and Skills for Social Studies " Texas Education Agency -Welcome to the Texas Education Agency. N.p., n.d. Web. 4 Dec. 2016. United States. NSA, CIA, FBI. ICA. Background to “Assessing Russian Activities and Intentions in Recent US Elections”: The Analytic Process and Cyber Incident Attribution. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Web. 20 Feb. 2017. Williams, Heather Andrea. Self-taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina, 2005. Print. X, Malcolm “The White Man is Tricking You!” Nation of Islam. Los Angeles 22 May, 1962 X, Malcolm, and Alex Haley. The Autobiography of Malcolm X. New York: Ballantine, 1992. Print.

Body Ethics: Moving Beyond Valid Consent Christine Chen Author Steve Nam Coco Zhu Rebecca Yang Editors There is little controversy that individuals generally have an interest against intrusion of or interference with their personal domain, which encompasses one’s person—body and mind—and property. For example, we typically think that we are entitled to moral complaint when another person pinches us, kisses us, or looks through our phone without our permission. That is to say, we have a moral right against these kinds of unauthorized interactions. Here, a right is understood as “entitlement (not) to perform certain actions, or (not) to be in certain states; or entitlements that others (not) perform certain actions or (not) be in certain states” (Weinar). This is not to say, of course, that all interpersonal interactions are impermissible. One key way in which we facilitate morally permissible interactions on a daily basis is by providing, through verbal or sometimes non-verbal communication, valid consent. Present moral theories of consent identify it as an interpersonal justification for an act upon an agent, the consent-giver, from which they would otherwise have moral protection in the form of a duty of the others not to infringe upon their personal domain. Consent releases the consent-receiver from such duty against intrusion or interference and provides an interpersonal justification for the act within the content of the consent. However, our moral intuition suggests that there is something beyond ordinary, valid consent necessary for an act to be morally permissible when the body is involved, like an invasive procedure or sexual intercourse. Indeed, patients sometimes believe that they are wronged by a medical procedure despite having given legally valid consent, which contributes to the deteriorating patient-physician relationship and growing mistrust (Nie et al.). In these cases, are the patients entitled to such complaint? In this paper, I aim to challenge Tom Dougherty’s theory of consent, presented in his book The Scope of Consent, by attempting to identify a second condition for moral permissibility in cases involving the body through a series of hypothetical cases. I posit that, besides a consent-based right against bodily intrusion or interference, agents have an additional preference-based right that entitles them to moral complaint, which is not typically present in ordinary cases of consent that do not involve the body. Defining Consent: Expression of Will View Before diving into cases, I will first define consent as it is understood in this paper. Under Dougherty’s Expression of Will View, consent is a deliberate expression of one’s will (Dougherty 2021, 111). Like forfeitures and waivers, consent provides a way for us to give up moral complaints against others for causally contributing to interference with our personal domain, namely, our bodies and property (Dougherty 2021, 102). As such, consent constitutes a justification for how others can interact with or act within the consent-giver’s personal domain. For the purpose of this paper, I accept Dougherty’s Expression of Will View as the working conception of consent that governs interpersonal interactions. As an evidential account of consent, this view emphasizes the role of available reliable evidence and enhanced reliable evidence, both of which define the validity and scope of consent according to the Due Diligence Principle, which states: Due Diligence Principle. At time t, an action A falls within the scope of the consent that X gives to Y if and only if at t, X gives consent or, prior to t, X has given consent and has not subsequently revoked this consent; at t, the available reliable evidence sufficiently supports the interpretation that X intends their consent-giving behaviour to apply to Y performing A; and at t, the enhanced reliable evidence also sufficiently supports this interpretation. (Dougherty 2021, 149) According to Dougherty, “the ‘enhanced reliable evidence’ is defined as the available reliable evidence, supplemented by any reliable evidence that the consent-receiver has a duty to acquire” (Dougherty 2021, 146); the distinction between enhanced reliable evidence (ERE) and available reliable evidence (ARE) will be explored further in this paper. Thus, for consent to be considered valid, the consent-receiver also has to fulfill their duty to acquire additional reliable evidence that is not presently readily available to confirm and clarify the veracity and scope of the consent-giver’s expression of will. Dougherty indicates in the footnote that the definition of enhanced reliable evidence “focuses on actual phenomena” and “not a counterfactual definition of evidence that someone would have” (Dougherty 2021, 146). The duty here is owed to the consent-giver regardless of what the available reliable evidence suggests or what the consent-receiver believes the additional information would indicate. In other words, the consent-receiver should obtain additional evidence even if there is reasonable belief that any additional information that could be obtained would have confirmed that the behavior falls within the scope of consent. In all of the cases I present below, we can presume that the Due Diligence Principle is fulfilled when consent is verified with a verbal or written follow-up. To bring out our moral intuition of the justifying force of consent, let’s consider the following case of ordinary consent. “Control” Case—Consent to Use of Property Landlord signs a legal contract to lease an apartment but prefers not to do so for personal, non-morally significant reasons—e.g. Landlord has a friend visiting that month and would rather use the apartment for that purpose—and presumably expresses such lack of enthusiasm, either with a verbal aside or in the tone of voice. It seems morally permissible for Tenant to move in, since the given consent is valid and deliberately expressed in the form of a legally-binding contract. In other words, Landlord’s lack of underlying preference is not sufficient to render Tenant’s act of renting the apartment morally impermissible. What about when it involves the body? According to Dougherty and US criminal law, there is no complaint if the consent is valid and freely given by an agent who is of sound mind without coercion. For example, suppose a person gives clear and passionate consent to sexual intercourse with their partner of their own volition while sober and uninfluenced. Criminal law and Dougherty’s view both recognize that she is not wronged by the partner unless the consent is undermined. The partner does not wrong her even if she does not like the intercourse during or after it happens so long as she does not indicate in any way that she withdraws consent. Neither is she considered wronged if she is under the false belief that her consent is invalid. Likewise, obtaining voluntary informed consent from a competent patient is a legal and ethical obligation of the medical practitioner as it permits the administration of the intervention in question. We generally consider valid consent to be sufficient when another agent asks to, say, borrow a pen or enter our office. We cannot successfully sue another person for trespassing after knocking and being given permission to come inside our apartment. However, we do not seem to think that it is morally permissible for the consent-receiver to act on the consent or justify their act with the given consent in some cases. To illustrate this, I present a few hypothetical examples below. Let’s consider a first case of a minimally invasive and reversible bodily intrusion. Warm-up case: People Pleaser Gets a Face Tattoo People Pleaser (PP) consents to getting a face tattoo for what we shall term here, extrinsic reasons—reasons that do not come from one’s own internal desires but rather serves to achieve an external goal like garnering praise or receiving an award such as to make Tattoo Artist (TA) think well of them. PP does this freely and not against their will, with no external social pressure like social stigma while of sound mind, and through a deliberate expression of consent, e.g. a verbal yes. In other words, the consent is unambiguously valid according to Dougherty’s Expression of Will View. However, PP has a preference not to receive a face tattoo, of which TA is somehow aware. Is it morally permissible for TA to give PP a face tattoo after consent was given? Let’s stipulate that there is minimal difference in interest for the Tattoo Artist in either outcome scenarios, other than received payment for their services. There is minimal risk of harm for PP—a tattoo is generally minimally invasive and reversible now—even though the tattoo in question is a face tattoo. Here, our moral intuition seems to suggest that it is not morally permissible for TA to proceed because, simply put, PP does not want to have the tattoos and he knows it. It seems, on first pass, that PP’s lack of underlying preference is the necessary but not sufficient condition additional to consent. Dougherty’s Objection—Consent-Centric view of Interpersonal Justification Argument TA has the obligation of Due Diligence to secure both available reliable evidence, e.g. evidence supporting that PP is very clearly sober and of sound mind – i.e. not visibly inebriated or have lost their faculties – when consenting to getting tattooed, and enhanced reliable evidence, i.e. evidence TA has a duty to actively acquire, e.g. a verbal confirmation from PP to clarify that they indeed knowingly and deliberately consent to a tattoo. If TA has sufficiently performed Due Diligence appropriately given the stake of the act—getting a face tattoo—and the cost of acquiring such evidence, the valid consent should justify this act; PP is no longer entitled to a complaint here. This would be analogous to a case in which the consent-giver, PP, falsely believes that their consent is invalid. Dougherty can agree that it is wrong in this case for TA to give PP a face tattoo. However, he would object that, rather than there being something else that makes tattooing PP morally impermissible, it is because the consent is actually not valid. How can that be? Dougherty asserts that consent is invalid when it is given under unjust social pressure like a misogynistic culture that demands unconditional sex from wives (Dougherty 2022). He could appeal that, in this case, PP experiences social pressure, which is “the exertion of influence on a person or group by another person or group” (American Psychology Association). People generally have a right to be free from this kind of pressure or external influence when making decisions, according to Kant’s Principle of Autonomy (Kant G4: 440). Consent is thus invalid in the Dougherty sense when social pressure is present because, like coercion, it denies the agent one or more options that they are entitled to have. Therefore, PP’s consent to receiving a face tattoo is invalid and TA has wronged PP by tattooing them. However, not all cases of consent for extrinsic reasons involve this unfair denial of options. Here, we would be mistaken to frame PP’s extrinsic reason—people pleasing—as coercion because coercion, by definition, is imposed upon the consenting agent by another agent, which is not present. PP’s “pressure” to consent is self-imposed, which means that this consent is still valid, ceteris paribus. Case 2—Intimate Relations with the Asexual Partner Two individuals, Ace and Bee, initiate a sexual encounter. Ace expresses consent to engage in sexual intercourse with Bee deliberately and freely while sober and of sound mind. However, Ace is asexual and would prefer not to have sex with Bee (or anyone, for that matter). Say, Ace would not mind if the fire alarm goes off as Ace and Bee are about to begin intercourse and interrupts it. Ace simply consents because she prefers not to make Bee think negatively of her. Like in previous cases, Ace’s consent is valid, though there is no underlying preference for the token act. Bee performs Due Diligence to interpret consent based on available reliable evidence and enhanced reliable evidence, which Bee acquires by asking Ace whether she is feeling pressured to consent to sex, to which Ace answers decisively, “No.” Assume that Bee is aware both generally and in this instance that Ace is asexual and prefers not to have sex. Bee proceeds to have sex with Ace because the consent is present and valid. Can we blame Bee for having sex with Ace? Can Ace make a complaint to Bee for acting against her preference? There seems to be something morally unsavory about Bee engaging in sexual intercourse with Ace despite knowing that Ace prefers not to do so even though there is valid, deliberate consent from Ace. Again, valid consent here, though necessary, does not seem sufficient to justify an act of bodily intrusion. So far, our cases have featured minimal interest and risk of harm on both sides. If underlying preference is indeed a necessary but not sufficient condition for the moral permissibility of acts of bodily intrusion, how would increasing the interest for one or both parties interact with the preference condition? Here, I understand interest as the stakes or concern one has in acting or withholding from acting in a given situation or to achieve a given outcome. For example, a student has an interest in maintaining a good grade point average because it is beneficial for future career or academic opportunities. Case 3—Obedient Patient’s Minimally Invasive Elective Surgery Obedient Patient (OP) is advised to undergo laser vision correction—a minimally invasive elective procedure otherwise known as LASIK—by their ophthalmologist. The operation has relatively low risk and marginal benefit for the patient. Let’s assume that the ophthalmologist, while board-certified and knowledgeable, does not exert an overwhelming epistemic authority over OP during the treatment process, i.e., OP does not feel epistemically pressured to follow the doctor’s orders. OP, obedient by nature, signs an informed consent form after the ophthalmologist provides a detailed explanation of what the procedure would entail, along with the potential benefits, risks, and side effects. However, OP disprefers to undergo this surgical intervention, all things considered; OP only consents because they do not want to disappoint the ophthalmologist. For OP, the best-case scenario would be if, after consenting, the ophthalmologist informs OP that LASIK would no longer be recommended or is generally canceled. Having obtained verbal confirmation in addition to written consent, the ophthalmologist performs LASIK surgery. Is this surgery morally permissible? Can OP make a complaint against their ophthalmologist? If valid—and verified—consent were necessary and sufficient for moral permissibility, then the ophthalmologist would have been perfectly justified to perform LASIK, which is not the case. Once again, the violation of the consent-giver’s underlying preference presents a weighty challenge to the moral significance of consent in a case involving bodily intrusion. If the elective surgery case yields ambiguous conclusions, consider the following similar but necessary procedure instead. Case 4—Required Surgery Suppose, now, our Obedient Patient instead consents to cataract surgery, which is required for their health, as they risk losing their vision if they forego the surgery. The procedure is the current standard of care for cataracts, a non-life-threatening but nonetheless serious condition, and OP has been adequately informed of the benefits, potential risks, and side effects such that the Due Diligence principle is fulfilled by the ophthalmologist, the consent-receiver. There is certainly now more interest for OP to comply with medical advice; like any reasonable individual, OP has an interest in preserving—or, in this case, restoring—their vision. However, OP would prefer not to undergo the surgery, all things considered, just like in the elective surgery case. Nonetheless, OP consents to avoid disappointing the ophthalmologist. Given valid and verified consent, and considering the necessity of the procedure to OP’s health and wellbeing, the ophthalmologist proceeds to perform cataract surgery on OP. Is this cataract surgery morally permissible? Can OP now make a complaint against their ophthalmologist? I concede that, to a bystander, OP has every reason to want the surgery, given the overwhelming interest and relatively low risk. Consequentialist theorists would argue that the moral calculus alone is enough to justify the surgery, and consent-centric theorists like Dougherty would cite the valid consent—verified by available reliable evidence and enhanced reliable evidence—to be sufficient for moral permissibility. However, I argue that there is something morally unsavory about disrespecting OP’s underlying preference not to be operated on despite these reasons, as intuitively, we want our preferences to be respected. Simply put, it would be wrong to proceed with the surgery when OP, who is getting the surgery, disprefers the surgery, and OP’s preference should be respected. Here, valid consent is still insufficient to justify this act of bodily intrusion. If this still does not demonstrate that consent alone is insufficient, consider the post-operation scenario. Case 4.5—Post-Operation Suppose OP finds the surgery unpleasant and is angry afterwards. They say to the surgeon, “You knew I didn’t want that. How could you do that to me? You could easily have said, ‘I know you are only consenting to please me; so, although that consent you gave is valid, I won’t go forward.’ Why didn’t you do that?” The surgeon—who has read up on Dougherty and the legal literature—could respond, “valid consent is all I needed to operate on you. Since I fulfilled my duty to acquire consent as well as additional evidence that your consent was valid while acting in your best interest, I did nothing wrong. I did not wrong you.” If the Due Diligence Principle only cares about available reliable evidence and enhanced reliable evidence for consent, and both indicate that the consent is valid and the procedure is within its scope, then, in the Dougherty sense, there is no moral wrong here. However, does it not feel wrong for the ophthalmologist to insist that no wrong was committed? While the ophthalmologist dutifully obtained and verified OP’s consent, something is missing here: namely, they did not act according to OP’s underlying preferences, which I identify as the other necessary condition for moral permissibility in this case. Note that preference seems to play a weightier role in our intuitive moral judgment of the ophthalmologist’s actions than case 3, where the operation is elective. It would seem that the higher stakes that the patient has in the bodily intrusion they consent to is reflected in a weightier consideration of the preferences of the consent-giver. To further illustrate this second condition of agent preference in cases of bodily intrusion, I invite the reader to consider the case of Unenthused Organ Donor (UOD). Case 5—Unenthused Organ Donor UOD is a match for a kidney transplant for a patient with end stage renal disease (ESRD). Upon being contacted for the match, UOD is sufficiently informed of the relevant details of the organ donation procedure and understands that there would be little to no risk or harm to their long-term quality of life. UOD understands that there is a great interest for the ESRD patient to receive the transplant and signs the consent form to undergo the procedure. When prompted, they confirm that they indeed consent freely and without external pressure. However, as the name implies, UOD prefers not to have a kidney removed. UOD consents only because it would look bad to refuse to donate. This is not a case of defective consent in Dougherty’s sense because the reason UOD consents—not wanting to look bad—is not an unjust pressure, as it is self-imposed. The consent is still considered valid. Would it be morally permissible for the doctor on the case to remove UOD’s kidney? I don’t think so. UOD’s preferences are clearly violated, so although they gave valid consent, the doctor is not justified to remove UOD’s kidney. Once again, preference clearly matters for the consent-giver, just as I have illustrated in the series of cases involving the body above. For the People Pleaser, preference mattered when a face tattoo was administered. It mattered for Ace, who consented to sexual relations with their partner. It no doubt mattered for Obedient Patient, who really did not want to undergo surgery despite its necessity. This moral significance of preference persists across the spectrum of interest weightings, from a reversible face tattoo to an organ donation operation, meaning that it is not the weight of the interest that matters in addition to the consent but the preference regarding one’s body itself. Objection—Weightier Interests? So far, I have shown that in cases involving property, like the Landlord case, valid consent suffices for moral permissibility. However, in cases involving the body, it does not. The cases I present posit that underlying preference is the necessary—though not sufficient—condition that makes the difference. One alternative explanation for this difference in the permissibility of consensual interference is that there simply is a weightier interest for the agent when an interaction involves their body. Dougherty would argue that bodily intrusion is more costly for an agent because the body is necessary for survival. It would be intuitive, then, that we should be more prudent when acting on consent that involves the body given the higher stakes for the consenting person. By that logic, individuals may have a similar interest when it comes to their property: there would be a weighty interest in having a large proportion or absolute sum of one’s property interfered with only when they prefer it. If this were true, we would expect to observe an apparent reverse correlation between the cost to the consent-giver and the justifying power of the consent. In minimally intrusive and reversible cases of bodily interference like the face tattoo case, there is minimal interest or harm for People Pleaser to get a face tattoo—it is not too painful, financially costly, does not affect present or future physical or emotional health, assuming we now live in a world where a face tattoo is not deemed socially unacceptable. We would expect that the consent to be asymptotically sufficient for the act’s moral permissibility, which contradicts our initial conclusion. In other words, since interest is low for PP in the tattoo case, we would expect consent-power to be high. Meanwhile, cases of higher-stake bodily intrusion like sexual intercourse or surgery do not minimize the role of valid consent. For example, in the second case of intimate relations, we can generally agree that the stakes are higher than in the face tattoo case, but ultimately, there is still, presumably, little or no risk of physical harm to the consent-giver, Ace. For Bee, there is more interest than in the last case for TA, assuming that allosexual—non-asexual—individuals have some interest in having sexual intercourse with others. The difference in the level of interest for the consent-giver is not reflected in a difference in consent-power in the moral permissibility of the act. Indeed, as the consent-giver’s interest increases, we continually see a restraint on consent’s moral weight in justifying the bodily intrusion. In the LASIK case, OP has a considerable interest in improving their vision, which contributes to their health and well-being. This interest further increases in the cataract surgery case, as delayed intervention could lead to permanent vision damage or even blindness, which OP, like any rational, seeing individual, would want to avoid. On the other hand, while we can acknowledge that the increased interest for the consenting Obedient Patient restricts the justifying force of consent, it does not drown out its role underlying the moral permissibility of the surgery either. OP would not have won a lawsuit, for instance, if they were to sue the surgeon for operating on them with valid consent. OP could only make the case to undermine the validity of the consent on the grounds that their obedience poses a type of pressure akin to coercion, which I have previously shown in the tattoo case to be unsubstantiated. According to Dougherty’s Expression of Will View, OP would have been under the false belief that they gave invalid consent, which does not itself invalidate the consent. If weightier interest were a sufficiently robust explanation for the restriction on consent’s justifying force, we should expect a similar conclusion from the above bodily intrusion cases in a property case. To investigate this hypothesis, I propose a test case involving property in which an agent has weighty interest and compare our moral intuition to the violation of preference with our intuitions regarding previous cases involving the body. Weighty Property Test Case—Stubborn but Conflict-Avoidant Private Company Owner Suppose an agent J owns a one-person private company. As the only employee and owner, J has sole ownership of this firm, so the company is akin to another form of property. J has a weighty interest in this firm because it is J’s only source of income—it generates present cash flow—and has the potential to continue generating monetary value. Now suppose a local chain offers to acquire J’s firm with attractive conditions: J would not only keep the job but also gain the opportunity to reach more clients, make more money, and potentially take over other departments of this future parent company. J signs the contract and verbally confirms this agreement with the legal representative of the chain company. In other words, in the eyes of the law and according to Dougherty, the acquisition of J’s company is justified. Yet, J is very stubborn and disprefers selling the company. J only consents to avoid conflict with the chain legal representative. The chain company executes the signed and verified contract and acquires J’s firm. It would be utterly absurd for J to make a public complaint against the local chain or the legal presentative and say, “you knew I didn’t want to sign the contract! You have wronged me by executing it and acquiring my company!” If the weight of interest for the consent-giver is the only thing that matters, we would not expect to find J’s complaint absurd. After all, J’s company financially supports J and therefore matters a lot to J! Recall that in the cataract surgery case, it was reasonable for the patient to insist that a wrong had been committed when the surgeon proceeded with the operation with valid consent but no underlying preference. This difference suggests that heightened interest does not sufficiently explain why consent alone is not enough when an agent’s body is interfered with while simultaneously being sufficient in property cases like the case of J’s company. This test case suggests that, when it comes to the body, something else has to be present, namely, preference. Objection—Preference as Consent Revocation? Another possible objection would be to assert that consent is preference-based. The lack of underlying preference would be equivalent to the absence of consent or its revocation, which would render the act no longer justified according to the first condition in Dougherty’s Due Diligence Principle (Dougherty 2021, 149). If the consent is revoked, then performing the token act that the consent is meant to permit would be, again, an intrusion of one’s personal domain. Since preference is a subjective, comparative evaluation (Hansson and Grüne-Yanoff), a conception of consent grounded in or functionally equivalent to preference would be categorized as a mental account, which recognizes that consent consists of a certain mental attitude (Dougherty 2021, 23). In other words, an agent’s mental content determines the scope of the consent. An agent can thus alter the scope of their consent or revoke it simply by changing their mind (Dougherty 2021, 33). Since preference is a kind of mental attitude, changing one’s preference thereby effectively either alters the scope of one’s consent or withdraws it entirely. Therefore, the proponent of the preference account would appeal to the lack of underlying preference as either the absence of consent in the first place or a revocation of consent. There are a few flaws with this objection. Firstly, Dougherty himself rejects the Mental View: in The Scope of Consent, he presents four arguments in favor of the Behavioral View over the Mental View, partly by relating consent to promise, which we generally agree requires public behavior (Dougherty 2021, 56). The Behavioral View thus holds that like promises, consent requires behavior to express the intention to release another individual from the duty not to act in such a way that intrudes in someone’s personal domain (Dougherty 2021, 61). Dougherty points out the asymmetry between promises and the mental account of consent. The latter can create, reimpose, and eliminate duties with mere intention. The former, by contrast, requires an act that publicly acknowledges the change in duties and how the two or more agents involved relate to each other (Dougherty 2021, 56). Though I in no way assert that consent is a kind of promise, we can nonetheless intuit from their shared moral currency and role in guiding interpersonal relationships that mere mental attitudes like intentions or preferences are insufficient in creating valid consent between individuals. Indeed, Dougherty’s own conception of consent—the Expression of Will view—rejects the moral or epistemic equivalence between preference and the expression of will; to equivocate these two entirely different concepts would render this objection unsound. Rather, there is something fundamentally different between consent, which, according to Dougherty, is a deliberate expression of will, and preference. The former, while a more undemanding version, remains a Behavior View of consent. The expression of will is a deliberate behavior that authorizes the intrusion of one’s personal domain. It may reflect an underlying preference or it may not. For consent to be valid under this view, preference is not mandatory but behavior is required. Even if we grant the Mental View, the preference account is still problematic. Dougherty argues that only certain kinds of mental attitudes can ground consent (Dougherty 2021, 27). We can find the motivation behind this view in the Autonomy Argument, which “appeals to the idea that consent is an exercise of an individual’s autonomy” (Dougherty 2021, 25). This is initially attractive given that much of consent literature, at least within the clinical world, arose in the aftermath of inhumane human trials in which subject autonomy was grotesquely violated. Since autonomy is partly reflected in an ability to consciously control our moral boundaries (Dougherty 2021, 25), a mental view of consent, conceptualized to maximize the protection of autonomy, should also be “under our intentional control” (Dougherty 2021, 27). However, preferences, like desires, are not necessarily under our intentional control. An agent can be born with a preference against injection needles without ever being subject to one, which supports the intuition that preferences are not always intentional. Therefore, preferences do not inherently generate a mental account of consent, so we should reject the worry that the lack of underlying preferences would somehow have the same moral significance as the absence or revocation of consent. Upshots Granted, in many cases in real life, the consent-receiver will not be in a position to know whether the preference is present. Indeed, sometimes the consent-giver would not even be aware or certain of their own lack of underlying preference until after the act has begun, as many preferences are nuanced, weak, or unconscious. In such cases, the ignorance of such underlying preference—or the lack thereof—would constitute a blameless ignorance of a morally-relevant fact, which would render the violation of the consent-giver’s personal domain blameless. As Gideon Rosen argues in “Culpability and Ignorance”, an agent is not culpable for an act done from moral ignorance if and only if such ignorance itself is not culpable (Rosen 61). I endorse this view and apply it to what would otherwise be culpable acts of bodily intrusions and concede that they, too, are inculpable if and only if the upstream ignorance of the consent-giver’s preference is not culpable. Moreover, there are cases where the consent-receiver fails to realize that the consent-giver has been wronged. For instance, calling back to our earlier case of LASIK surgery, our patient OP consents to be operated on by the ophthalmologist P. In this case, P has fulfilled Due Diligence, having obtained enhanced reliable evidence, and has OP’s patient profile, which indicates that he disprefers surgery, especially ones that do not involve general anesthesia. Yet, through no fault of P’s own, P fails to connect the dots and realize that OP’s aversions to surgery without general anesthesia would make it wrong for P to proceed with the consent. Again, Rosen would take this case as a kind of inculpable ignorance, which renders P’s intrusion blameless. Even theorists who deny that moral ignorance is exculpatory, like Elizabeth Harman, acknowledge that the failure to realize that the wrong-making features of an action make it morally wrong could sometimes exculpate the offending agent (Harman 2017, 117). Dougherty, too, would excuse this kind of intrusion. Since the Expression of Will View is an undemanding version of the Behavioral View, it does not require successful interpretation or communication for the consent to be considered valid (Dougherty 2021, 32); in fact, Dougherty rejects the Uptake Condition, which states that: An action A falls within the scope of the consent that X gives to Y only if Y successfully interprets X’s behaviour as motivated by an intention to release Y from their duty not to perform A. (Dougherty 2021, 78) Therefore, the consent is considered valid even if the consent-receiver is not aware as long as the conditions for validity are met (Dougherty 2021, 79). Nonetheless, even in these bodily intrusion cases where the preference is unknown or misinterpreted, there is still an issue of objective rightness to which the individual being wronged is entitled. We can concede that the consent-receiver acts blamelessly, but nevertheless unjustifiably. After all, we acknowledge that the consent-giver is still wronged insofar as their preferences are disrespected. Yet, since it is done from inculpable ignorance, as I have established, it is blameless. Such acts, according to Rosen, would call for “agent regret” but not moral blame (Rosen 69). Another account of such unwitting violations of the consenting agent’s preference comes from Elizabeth Harman, who proposes a moral category called morally permissible moral mistake (Harman 2016, 366). According to Harman’s conception, there are acts that one should do, all things considered, for moral reasons, but is not morally obligated to do, such that in failing to do them, one makes a moral mistake that is nonetheless permissible (Harman 2016, 373-374). The failure to perform such an act is a moral mistake because there are moral reasons for the agent to not fail to do it. Meanwhile, failing to perform the act is permissible because one is not obligated to perform it; not performing it is not morally impermissible. If we accept that morally permissible moral mistakes as Harman conceives exist, does proceeding with valid consent for bodily intrusion without the consent-giver’s preference fall under this category? Since I accept that valid consent releases the consent-receiver from the duty not to interfere with the consent-giver’s body, acting on valid consent would be morally permissible like in cases involving property, regardless of whether preference is present. Yet, the absence of preference makes it a moral mistake when it involves the body because, all things considered, there are moral reasons why the consent-receiver should respect the consent-giver’s bodily preferences. For the ophthalmologist, for example, to perform LASIK surgery on the Obedient Patient, would be a morally permissible moral mistake. On the other hand, we cannot say that it is a moral mistake for the Tenant to disrespect Landlord’s preferences against leasing in light of the contract, which makes Tenant’s use of Landlord's Apartment morally permissible. Acting with valid consent but without preference in property cases is not a moral mistake and is simply morally permissible. In either account, we can acknowledge that the consenting individual is still wronged despite the sanction of their valid consent without blaming the consent-receiving actor. In cases of bodily intrusion, we should not be in the business of blame but rather focus on protecting and respecting the moral boundaries and dignity of individuals, which is reflected by their preferences. The Due Diligence Principle, Revisited So what does this mean for Dougherty’s conception of consent? Should we abandon the Due Diligence Principle altogether? Of course not. These cases above have revealed that there is something beyond consent—namely, an agent’s underlying preferences—that should also guide and justify the actions of other individuals interacting with or acting within their personal domain alongside consent, not in place of it. One way to remedy Dougherty’s Due Diligence Principle is to acknowledge that, in cases involving the body, from a reversible tattoo to an invasive medical procedure, there is a further question about the consent-giver’s preference. Such preference should be clearly understood as an additional enhanced reliable evidence that the consent-receiver has a duty to obtain, though not a component of consent itself, such that knowing violations of underlying preference about the body are avoided and inadvertent intrusions are minimized. Note that, since Dougherty rejects the Mental View, and I have established that preference is a kind of mental attitude separate from consent, we can presume that Dougherty’s present conception of the Due Diligence Principle does not include information about preference as a kind of enhanced reliable evidence as I propose. Dougherty’s Expression of Will View does not care about preference. Therefore, my account here is a revision of Dougherty’s Due Diligence Principle, rather than a more generous interpretation.Whether an agent has sufficiently obtained such evidence is, of course, a matter of what is epistemically possible in a given situation, and should be evaluated on a case by case basis, as the Enhanced Reliable Evidence Principle suggests. A helpful metric remains the Reasonable Agent Standard common in the legal literature on intimate relations and medical practice, or Dougherty’s suggestion that it be appropriate given the stakes of the consented act and the cost of acquiring the relevant evidence (Dougherty 2021, 144). The important thing is that such due diligence to obtain evidence for the consenting individual’s underlying preference is carried out before the bodily intrusion is consummated. Conclusion In this paper, I have argued that valid consent alone is not fully dispositive in cases involving the body. Instead, a second preference-based right is another necessary condition for the moral permissibility of the intrusion. I have demonstrated through a series of cases that preference, rather than merely the cost to the agent, matters in addition to valid consent and should be respected. I then addressed the upshots relating to epistemic challenges, including ignorance and the failure to realize certain facts. I also outlined two moral accounts of consensual bodily intrusion without preference: a morally impermissible but blameless account under Rosen’s framework and a morally permissible moral mistake account under Harman’s conception. Lastly, I proposed an addendum to Dougherty’s Due Diligence Principle of consent to include one’s underlying preference. Future work should expand upon the moral significance of preference and provide a more conclusive account of what motivates its relevance in cases involving the body. Acknowledgements I would like to thank my advisor, Professor Gideon Rosen, for his guidance and feedback throughout the junior independent work process. I also want to thank family and friends, especially John Wallar, for providing comments and unrelenting support. References “Cataract Surgery.” National Eye Institute. Accessed December 2, 2024. http://www.nei.nih.gov/learn-about-eye-health/eye-conditions-and-diseases/cataracts/cataract-surgery#:~:text=What%20happens%20during%20cataract%20surgery,be%20awake%20du ring%20cataract%20surgery. Dougherty, Tom. “Social Constraints on Sexual Consent.” Politics, Philosophy & Economics 21, no. 4 (July 26, 2022): 393–414. https://doi.org/10.1177/1470594x221114620. Dougherty, Tom. The scope of consent. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021. Hansson, Sven Ove, and Till Grüne-Yanoff. “Preferences.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, October 4, 2006. https://plato.stanford.edu/archivES/FALL2017/Entries/preferences/. Harman, Elizabeth. “Morally Permissible Moral Mistakes.” Ethics 126, no. 2 (January 2016): 366–93. https://doi.org/10.1086/683539. Harman, Elizabeth. “When Is Failure to Realize Something Exculpatory?” Oxford Scholarship Online, July 20, 2017. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780198779667.003.0006. Kant, Immanuel. Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals. Cambridge: University Press, 2012 “Kidney Transplant.” Kidney Transplant | Johns Hopkins Medicine, May 24, 2024. http://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/treatment-tests-and-therapies/kidney-transplant#:~:text=You%20may%20need%20a%20kidney,other%20substances%20from% 20the%20blood. “LASIK.” Wikipedia, November 21, 2024. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LASIK. Nie, Jing‐Bao, Yu Cheng, Xiang Zou, Ni Gong, Joseph D. Tucker, Bonnie Wong, and Arthur Kleinman. “The Vicious Circle of Patient–Physician Mistrust in China: Health Professionals’ Perspectives, Institutional Conflict of Interest, and Building Trust through Medical Professionalism.” Developing World Bioethics 18, no. 1 (September 18, 2017): 26–36. https://doi.org/10.1111/dewb.12170. Rosen, Gideon. “IV-Culpability and Ignorance.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society (Hardback) 103, no. 1 (June 2003): 61–84. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0066-7372.2003.00064.x. “Social Pressure.” APA Dictionary of Psychology. Accessed December 2, 2024. https://dictionary.apa.org/social-pressure. Wenar, Leif. “Rights.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, February 24, 2020. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/rights/.

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

Author Name < Back Shoring Against Our Ruin: An Investigation of Profound Boredom in Our Return to Normal Life Virginia Moscetti Returning to campus after what felt like a lifetime of virtual schooling, quarantining, and all the other cheerful aspects of living and studying during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was thrilled to finally return to a normal college experience. And yet, it has been anything but normal. Besides the fact that the pandemic continues to drag on indefinitely, bringing with it certain indispensable COVID prevention strategies, like mask-wearing and bi-weekly testing, there is something more obstructing my return to the normal, pre-pandemic college experience I had so eagerly anticipated. My old routines now feel empty, and my previous passions and interests have fallen flat. I trudge about daily life listlessly, keeping up with my academic and extracurricular commitments simply because I don’t want to royally screw up the rest of my life. In short, I am bored, and I’m not the only person to feel this way. According to a recent article by Times Magazine, approximately 12 million Americans quit their jobs last summer. For Americans between the ages of 20-34, 14 million have either resigned or neglected to join the traditional workforce. While some resigned in pursuit of higher wages and better working conditions, a significant portion of Americans sought non-traditional jobs or simply reveled in “funemployment”. This phenomenon, informally termed “The Great Resignation,” is deeply connected to the pandemic and our recent quasi-return to normal. During the initial stages of the pandemic, everything came to a standstill. Going to work, walking to class, living in a dorm, and frequenting friends and family was no longer possible. Daily routines, as a result, altered substantially. We became accustomed to working, studying, and interacting through screens from the relative comfort of our homes. We developed hobbies to pass the time. Our relationships changed, for the better and also for the worse. Ultimately, everyone desperately looked toward a final return to normal, but with the semi-normal return that came, we were strikingly confronted with how much had changed within the world and within ourselves. With so much change, a return to pre-pandemic existence seems impossible. What one did then is not the same as what one does now, and, by extension, our possibilities for individual meaning-making in the world are not the same as our previous ones. Unable to authentically recreate past forms of meaningful doing and acting in the world as they used to exist, the attempt to do so in our quasi-post-COVID life becomes pervaded with a sense of meaninglessness. Going to work a specific job because that is what one used to do is no longer a sufficient justification for working it now, especially since, with so many people quitting their jobs or taking untraditional work trajectories, the structure of a working life has substantially, perhaps even normatively, changed. Unless that work continues to generate meaningful fulfillment, reenacting old ways of performing one’s daily life can produce a diffuse sense of indifference or boredom. In The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics , 20th century philosopher Martin Heidegger describes the boredom resulting from a confrontation with a sense of meaninglessness in our actions and routines as the phenomenon of “profound boredom.” Heidegger argues that in profound boredom, we are exposed to the structures of our existence and, through that exposure, can newly discover meaningful ways to project ourselves into the world. In this paper, I will investigate the extent to which Heidegger’s profound boredom is reflective of the form of boredom playing out in contemporary society and how his solution might offer a productive remedy. In order to do this, I will reference T.S Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” a poem which copes with widespread disillusionment in modern society following the devastation of World War I and the increased technological advancement in the Second Industrial Revolution. Examining both Eliot’s and Heidegger’s representations of boredom, I will demonstrate (1) how boredom can take on existential proportions, (2) how globally disruptive experiences can instantiate this boredom, and (3) how this boredom may be resolved by acknowledging our own facticity and our own freedom to choose how we want to act within our world by meaningfully repeating past possibilities of doing and acting. Comportment, Dasein, and The One According to Heidegger, all individuals have a particular style or way of interacting with the features of the world. This style, which Heidegger terms comportment, is structured by an individual’s goals and projects. In short, what they find meaningful. For instance, entertaining the ultimate goal of becoming a philosopher, I am oriented and disposed towards the world accordingly: I choose to undertake an undergraduate major in philosophy, I dedicate myself to my philosophy courses, and I choose to attend graduate school all for the sake of this goal. As I do so, I develop a particular manner of comporting myself toward (i.e., a particular way of acting in) the world. This comportment, while it pertains uniquely to each individual, is superimposed upon the individual’s “Dasein”. According to Heidegger, human beings are a particular type of entity which he terms “Dasein” – it can be loosely translated from German to mean “being-there”. Dasein interacts with the features of the world to advance its own particular goals and projects which illuminate a certain “style” or way in which Dasein approaches the world. As Heidegger describes, Dasein performs its actions and activities (i.e., its being) according to this particular style or comportment. Reciprocally, Dasein’s actions and activities reflect the comportment through which it approaches them. For example, if I entertain the ultimate goal of becoming a philosopher, I comport myself and am disposed toward the world accordingly: I choose to major in philosophy, I dedicate myself to my philosophy courses, and I choose to attend graduate school all for the sake of this goal. In pursuing certain projects and goals, I develop a particular manner of comporting myself toward (i.e., a particular way of acting in) the world. Additionally, the way that I act and do things (my comportment) both reflects and constitutes my understanding of myself. As I perform the actions that reflect the goal of becoming a philosopher, they also inform and constitute how I understand myself to “be” or act within the world as this particular individual which finds such and such projects meaningful. Thus, by attending my philosophy classes, I reinforce my understanding of myself as someone who loves philosophy and aims to become a philosopher. Of course, I can do things that would seemingly be “out of character” or at odds with my regular comportment, but in designating such an instance as “out of character,” I directly make reference to a contradiction between how I understand myself to act and a particular action or instance. Thus, to use Heideggerian terminology, as Dasein performs its being according to a particular comportment, it relates that comportment to the understanding of itself as itself, so that the mode in which it enacts its being is synchronized with how it understands itself to be. While, being in the world according to a particular comportment, I do, act, and choose things that reflect a particular understanding of myself, what I do, how I act, and what I choose is invariably subject to what is available to me within my world. Just as I could not build a house without the tools to do so, I could not pursue a career in philosophy if philosophy were not an established (or at least an existent) field of study. Accordingly, Dasein’s involvement in the world is structured by the features and beings present and accessible to it within that world. Dasein’s being in the world is also a ‘being-with’ others. Being-with becomes especially apparent in the manners in which Dasein interacts with objects and other features of the world through historical and culturally contingent social norms. For Heidegger, these conventions are exemplified through “what one does.” For example, one shakes hands when meeting a new person, one places one’s napkin on one’s lap at the table prior to beginning a meal, one drinks with a glass and eats with forks, knives, and spoons. While “one” does not designate any one particular individual, it designates an abstract collection of us (in which we are all included) that Heidegger terms the “They”. Insofar as I do as “one” does, I participate in the “They”, so that my actions reflect the larger social conventions of my community rather than what is meaningful and particular to me. By adopting these social conventions and rooting the “meaningfulness” of my actions within a contingent social order, I simultaneously flee the responsibility and accountability for my actions (as things which “I” rather than “They” elect to pursue) and relinquish my inherent freedom to pursue actions that are meaningful to me. Still, doing and knowing what one does fundamentally configures my “everyday” being-in-the-world (i.e., the way I act and relate to the world). As Mark Wrathall writes in How To Read Heidegger , “in the first instance and most of the time, we relate to others in the mode of ‘the one,’ which means that we understand ourselves in terms of what one says about the way one should live, that is, in terms of what one ordinarily does in situations that confront us”. Therefore, Dasein’s everyday existence (i.e., the typical or common way in which it is, both in terms of what activities it enacts and how) is, to some extent, immediately structured by what one does. For example, I go to the grocery store or the farmers market because that is what one does to purchase food in my community. At the grocery store, I acquire ham and other meats at the deli because that is what one does. My decision to go to the grocery store and my entire experience within that grocery store is organized by what one does. And this same structure applies to most of Dasein’s other everyday activities. Because Dasein’s “everydayness” is, to some extent, fundamentally structured by what one does, Dasein is never entirely inextricable from the “They.” Still, it is important to reiterate that “what one does” is not intrinsically meaningful in and of itself but a way of acting that reflects our socio-historically contingent norms and conventions. During our pre-pandemic existence, departing to work or school, completing errands outside of the home, and visiting and engaging with others in physically close proximity was simply what one did and, as such, characterized our “everyday” existence. In enacting these doings and activities of “what one did,” we became oriented toward and learned to relate to the world in terms of the pre-pandemic “one.” Consequently, the pre-pandemic understanding of what one did formed part of our self-understanding, or understanding of our everyday they-selves which, in turn, undergirded those particular selves we claimed to be or exist as. For example, a college student understands his everyday they-“self” as a college student (at least partially) in terms of what one does in college. In the pre-pandemic world, this meant attending classes within a classroom, studying in a library alone or amongst friends, securing internships, discovering a potential career path, perhaps occasionally partying. As he performs these things, he relates them back to his self-understanding as a “college student.” During the seemingly interminable months of quarantine, daily life underwent a fundamental transformation. Everyone, to some extent, conducted their social, academic, and work lives on various virtual platforms. Thus, what one did and how one worked altered drastically during quarantine. For our anonymous college student, virtual schooling and socializing became integrated into his everyday existence, and thus formed part of his everyday “self,” or how he acted and understood himself to be as a college student. Now, emerging out of quarantine with our quarantine beards and unshaven legs, we are tasked with what feels like the Herculean feat of “returning-to-normal” pre-pandemic life and what one did in that life. And yet, because we established a new normal and thus a new definition of what one does during quarantine, that “return” implies reproducing a performance or rehearsal of oneness that is, after such significant change since the onset of the pandemic, no longer applicable or even existent. As a result, the prevailing expectation of a return to normalcy confronts us with a conflict of “oneness” in which what one did and how one understood oneself to be as a college student, as a software engineer, doctor, or librarian is no longer what one does or how one understands oneself to be as such in our current world. In other words, the pre-pandemic “one” no longer determines our performance of “oneness.” However, here we are confronted with another problem: what does one do now? And by extension, how does one even understand oneself to be in the world? Is our college student still a college student within the pre-pandemic social definition and understanding of the term after spending close to a year in a virtual social and academic environment? Does he even understand himself to be the same college student that he once was before the pandemic? If not, is he left without anything to refer to in order to devise meaning and intelligibility from the strange, anomalous current life-experiences he must undergo? And, what if his goals and projects changed during quarantine? Must he now rehearse, along with all of us, what one did in the pre-pandemic life with those same goals and projects despite their inability to cohere with his current way of relating to the world? What are the implications of this rehearsal of pre-pandemic one-ness for Dasein who, after so much time understanding itself, relating to the world, and, as it were, devising meaning of its existence through the social conventions and modes of being associated with quarantine, must now adopt a performance of one-ness that is no longer meaningful to it; that no longer reflects how it understands itself to “be?” Published in 1922, six years after World War I and approximately fifty years after the onset of the Second Industrial Revolution, T.S Eliot’s modernist poem “The Waste Land” appears to cope directly with the implications of meaninglessly rehearsing “what one did.” In Part II of the poem, A Game of Chess , a man and woman are having a disjointed conversation. The woman anxiously exclaims “What shall we do? What shall we ever do?” to which the man responds cryptically: “ The hot water at ten. And if it rains, a closed car at four. And we shall play a game of chess, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.” In asking what they will do, the woman expresses an existential concern for meaningful, fulfilling “doing” or action. The man, however, suggests that no such doing is possible and that they are instead condemned to a life of listlessly repeating old routines until death or some other existential “knock upon the door” delivers them from it. The poem famously purports to diagnose the catastrophic ills and pains of modern society in the post-war period. With the unprecedented violence of World War I and the increased mechanization of modern society following the Second Industrial Revolution, the profound and diffuse listlessness that Eliot describes appears to be symptomatic of the failure of traditional values and certainties such as religion, family life, and canonical forms of art and literature to infuse human life with meaning in this new context. As the poem describes, religion, challenged by the immense loss of human life and the increase of sexual promiscuity in the war, could not save, family and domestic life could offer no sanctuary, and traditional art forms could no longer accurately depict or reflect human life. While their failure to create meaning implies a kind of fracturing between a pre-war and post-war society in which the modern individual now found itself situated, this failure also discloses the fundamental contingency of socio-cultural norms, values, and traditions. If these values and certainties were inherently meaningful in and of themselves, they would continue to be meaningful irrespective of the contexts and conditions in which they were applied. However, because these values and certainties somehow seemed to lose their meaning for those subjects in the poem and the larger modern society confronted with a sense of meaninglessness and boredom in daily life, they were forced to recognize that their presumed meaningfulness was a self-contrived illusion, or, perhaps, ask themselves “what is wrong with me that these things have lost their meaning?”. Since these traditional values and certainties structured how one (to an extent) related to the world, and by extension, what one did, their failure to create meaning likely produced a sense of boredom in those daily routines which revolved around “oneness” (which might have included, going to church, honoring traditional marriage, relationship, family, or other such dynamics in the domestic sphere, reading Shakespeare, etc.) and configured the “everyday” self. Because what became boring and meaningless was what one did, life was not boring to Dasein as this or that particular individual, but to Dasein as “one-self,” or the everyday self that acts, understands itself, and relates itself to the world in terms of the “One” and what one does. While the “one-self” may not be the particular, subjective self, because it informs, at least in part, how that particular self acts, the boredom encountered through the meaninglessness of Dasein’s everydayness problematizes how Dasein projects both its particular “self” and its they-“self” (as two, essential prongs of one and the same self) into the world. This is distinct from other forms of boredom (such as boredom with a specific object, social setting, event, etc.) in that it overwhelms Dasein’s every action in the world. As such, it can be understood within Heidegger’s notion of “attunement.” Attunement describes a state of mind that disposes us toward the world in a particular way. In order to explain this notion, consider the following hypothetical situation: while sitting in my room, I suddenly hear sirens blaring, people shouting and running, and see smoke leaking out from under my door. I become wholly overwhelmed with fear and alertness, leading me to scour the room for the closest exit or something with which to extinguish the imminent flames. My fear has completely altered the landscape of my environment so that certain objects become alternatively relevant and irrelevant to me depending on how they could be used. The pencil, for example, becomes irrelevant to me while a blanket by my bedside and an open window are relevant insofar as they might serve me in extinguishing the fire or escaping the room. As a result, my fear, as well as any other type of attunement, discloses that I must accept the circumstances of my world as they are revealed to me and what actions may be possible within those circumstances. While I submit myself to these circumstances, they also disclose opportunities for action or ways of utilizing certain objects that “matter” to me, or are significant to me to the extent that they help me extinguish the fire or escape the room. As a result, attunement constitutes how I am disposed toward the world and reveals my disclosive submission to that world. Like fear, profound boredom is a type of attunement in that it reveals our “disclosive submission [to the world], out of which we can encounter something that matters to us.” According to Heidegger, the confrontation with meaninglessness in Dasein’s everyday self can instantiate profound boredom (in which it is “boring for one”). In and through this confrontation Dasein is left “pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door” and is attuned to the world through profound boredom. Let us explore what this means through Jonathan Caballero, a 27 year old software developer who decided to join millions of Americans in quitting their traditional, pre-pandemic jobs. As a software developer, we can assume that in his pre-pandemic office space, Caballero may have perceived chairs, computers, conference rooms, telephones, among other things. He also had access to the different meanings implicit in these objects and the setting as a whole; the chairs, in the context of the office, may be for clients or co-workers to sit in, the computers to conduct programming with, respond to emails, type, etc, the telephone to communicate with, the conference rooms to host important office or client meetings, etc. In addition, we can assume, insofar as Caballero worked in this office in the pre-pandemic era, he comported himself in a particular way toward this office; a comportment that was structured by and made manifest a certain self which he (1) understood himself to be and, thus, (2) projected into the world. Thus, he was invested in the office space and its equipmental totality (i.e., the telephone, the computer, the conference room) as this particular self and for the sake of the projects, interests, and passions that are, to some extent, prescribed by the “one” but also reflect his own particularity as an individual. Each object, then, is meaningful to him through what they make possible toward advancing his multiple projects as his understood self which he understands himself to be. The telephone may be meaningful as a vehicle through which Caballero secures clients who may then elect to employ his services and, in doing so, secure the promise of a paycheck, and thus, fulfill his project of acquiring financial stability, the computer may be meaningful as the site of his work-activity in which he practices and improves his craft toward fulfilling his additional project of being an exceptional software programmer, and so forth. Additionally, the way in which Caballero came into contact with these objects, and by extension, the meaningful possibilities they imply, was in a nine-to-five, traditional working time-frame and environment. In other words, Caballero’s work, for which he was paid, did not simply consist of interacting with a certain kind of equipmental totality toward doing the work (in this case, software programming), but, because that work existed in a larger socio-cultural working structure, consisted of physically going to an office and being in that office space for a set period of time. Why? Because that is what one did as a member of certain sectors of the American labor force. One went to work, one spent time at a specified working location, and one returned home after the work day. Therefore, while his multiple projects (such as securing financial stability and being an exceptional software programmer) were made possible by the fact that those objects in his setting were used, and thus, could be used by one toward advancing these projects, these projects were also made possible by what one did, or more specifically, how one (within this particular sector of the American labor force) worked. Consequently, while they were made possible by how one worked, insofar as Caballero continued to work in terms of this oneness, his projects were also constrained to it. Caballero, then, projected himself meaningfully (to the extent that these projects are meaningful to him as that particular self which he understands himself to be) into the office space in terms of how one worked. This was his “everyday self.” Inevitably, during quarantine, Caballero began working virtually along with most other Americans. For him, this may have meant working from home, zooming into meetings fresh out of bed and still in his pajama pants, and spending what would have been his daily forty-five minute commute to and from the office by instead jumping in his pool and discovering new hobbies and interests. Assuming that the majority of his social community underwent a similar, if not identical, experience, not only did what he did change, but also what one did changed. Thus, one began to act in and relate to the world in a new way, ultimately leading each of us to understand ourselves in terms of this new, quarantine-generated way of being and relating to the world. Being a software engineer, or a college student, no longer implied physically occupying a particular location in physical proximity with others, but implied instead working, communicating, and socializing remotely. Returning to the pre-pandemic work life in this context, Caballero is tossed suddenly back into performing certain features of what one did, such as commuting to work, leaving the comfort of the home, and engaging with people face to face. His routine is now at odds with what he did and, by extension, what one did during the quarantine months. Because quarantine introduced a new performance of oneness and, thus, a new way of relating to the world, how Caballero presently understands himself to be, not simply as a software engineer but as a member of the socio-cultural world in which he exists, conflicts with the daily routines, or performance of everydayness, imposed upon him through the collective return to regular, pre-pandemic work life. Thus, these new routines, because they do not reflect how he understands himself (both as that particular self and as the one-self- which undergirds and gives rise to his particular self) are no longer meaningful to him. In addition, while this collective return strives toward pre-pandemic normalcy, this return breaks down as remnants of the pandemic continue to structure everyday existence. His current routines, while similar to pre-pandemic work life, ultimately fail to mean to him as such because they are, in a literal sense, not the exact same. In sum, then, Caballero cannot fully relate to the re-introduction of old, pre-pandemic routines into his daily life, and the performance of oneness they imply, because (1) what one does currently in these same routines is still somewhat different from what one once did, (2) quarantine changed his community’s performance of oneness, and thus, how he relates to the world in general, and (3) he understands himself, both as a particular self and as member of socio-cultural world in which he exists, differently than he did before the pandemic. Unable to relate to his routines as he once did, they fail to create meaning for him in the way that they had in the past, and he finds himself rehearsing a set of routines and performances that are meaningless to him (i.e. do not mean to him as in the way that they once did). Thus, he may exclaim to himself, staring at his computer in his old office space with his mask slipping beneath his nose, “What shall I do? What shall I ever do?” To which the One replies, “a lunch break at 12:00, a commute home at 4:00, and we shall try to know each other through our masks, pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.” Like Eliot’s speakers, a profound boredom may pervade his entire approach to his office setting, his social life, and his entire rehearsal of a one-ness that no longer corresponds to his particular interests, goals, and passions as a particular self or his self-understanding within the socio-cultural framework in which he exists. Answering the phone, commuting to work, sitting in an office, these actions no longer mean to him as they once did. He feels profoundly bored. And, in feeling profoundly bored, he is attuned to his equipmental totality (i.e., the objects that are contained within his environment) and the settings in which they occur in terms of this boredom. However, because Caballero is bored with the rehearsal of a past one-ness and a past version of himself implicit in and made possible by this one-ness, his boredom extends beyond the confines of the office. Going to lunch with friends, returning home, cooking his dinner, he is progressing listlessly through the motions of old routines. While working from home may have been a situation particular to Caballero and his social community, most Americans, to some extent, experienced fundamental changes in their routines and daily life during the quarantine periods in the peak of the pandemic. Thus, the phenomenon of profound boredom that I address in this paper, while it varies widely in its causes for each individual, remains a seemingly wide-spread experience in our “return-to-normal” life. As Heidegger writes, in profound boredom “we are not merely relieved of our everyday personality, but elevated beyond the particular situation in each case and beyond the specific beings surrounding us there. The whole situation and we ourselves as this particular subject are thereby indifferent... Indeed this boredom does not even let it get to the point where such things are of any particular worth to us. Instead it makes everything equally great and equally little worth.” “Being relieved of our everyday personality” here means no longer going about our lives as either one does, or as the particular self (which is inevitably, to some extent, structured by “oneness”) that, through its comportment, Dasein understands. For example, instead of attentively picking up phone calls, quickly responding to emails, and meticulously conducting his work (and thus meaningfully re-enacting “how one worked” toward the realization of some particular project as that particular self), Caballero, in this boredom, is detached from and indifferent to the office environment, what one would do, and what he once did (as his past, pre-pandemic self) in that particular environment. In other words, he is indifferent to how objects in that environment may serve the realization of the projects that are meaningful to him. However, he is not only indifferent to what one does, but what one does becomes indifferent to him. The equipmental totality of his world and the beings included in that world (that designate, through “how one worked,” how that totality might or should be utilized) no longer offer him any possibility of acting out his project, which has become meaningless; they “refuse” him meaning. As Heidegger writes: There is a telling refusal on the part of beings for a Dasein that… in the midst of these beings as a whole comports itself toward them (toward them, toward those beings as a whole and their now telling refusal) and must comport itself toward them, if it is indeed to be what it is. Dasein thus finds itself delivered over to the being's telling refusal of themselves as a whole. As Dasein, Caballero inevitably comports himself toward the world as the particular self which he understands himself to be. However, because this “self” has fallen flat, or is no longer meaningful to him, he comports toward a world without meaning or possibilities in that comportment. Therefore, beings as a whole which once created and gave rise to new meaningful possibilities for him as that self, now “refuse” him those meaningful possibilities. This “telling refusal” by beings as a whole constitutes the first essential, structural moment of profound boredom: being-left-empty, being without meaning to be discovered in beings as whole. However, in telling refusingly, beings as a whole also highlight the possibilities for meaning-making that Dasein has exploited and are no longer meaningful to it. Sitting in his office or his home, his computer, his clients, his pens, his telephone, his friends, and his dinner table all refuse Caballero meaning as objects and beings through which he can act out his “self-hood.” In his profound boredom, the interaction with these beings and objects signals to him that they cannot be employed toward meaningful action because they imply a commingled performance of one-ness and a particular “self-hood” that are not meaningful to him. For example, his dinner table is no longer meaningful for him as something which one now, in our quasi-post-pandemic world, uses again (and thus makes possible) to dine amongst friends, but an object, which, in his profound boredom, points to his incapacity for meaning-making by continuing to exploit the possibility of “how one now uses” a dining table. Because using the dining table as such involves rehearsing a performance of pre-pandemic oneness that no longer corresponds with how Caballero understands himself (perhaps because he has since become uncomfortable with hosting dinner parties or having people over in general), his interactions with the dining table disclose (or “point to”) his inability to find meaning by continuing to exploit the possibilities involved in what one did before the pandemic. In revealing his exploited possibilities (i.e. the doing as both one and he once did) “ .. .there occurs the dawning of the possibilities that Dasein could have, but which are left unexploited precisely in this “it is boring for one,” and as unexploited, leaves us in the “lurch”. In other words, confronted with the meaninglessness of his own rehearsal of what one used to do before the pandemic (and consequently, the rehearsal of his particular, pre-pandemic self which understood itself in terms of a pre-pandemic oneness) and the possibilities for acting within that oneness, he becomes aware of other unexploited possibilities for acting. As a result, the telling refusal of possibilities carries, by association, a telling announcement of the possibilities he has not yet exploited. This telling announcement does not point to any one unexploited possibility for meaning-making, but rather points (arbitrarily) to the fact that there are possibilities that he has not yet explored. However, because these possibilities are left unexplored in Caballero's total and complete boredom with the world in general, he does not take up meaningful action and is thus, as Heidegger writes, “left in the lurch” or entrapped in a kind of limbo of inaction. This “being-left-in-lurch” or “being-in-limbo” in which Caballero is confronted with but does not act upon unexplored possibilities comprises the second structural moment of profound boredom: because “being-left-in-limbo” precludes a kind of meaningful moving forwards, it has a certain temporal feeling. When beings and the possibilities they create for meaning-making (i.e., a doctor makes possible the use of a scalpel as a medical tool, and thus, a meaningful tool for particular purposes) refuse themselves to Caballero, they refuse themselves as a whole: they refuse themselves in every respect, or in every respect, retrospect, and prospect, such that every past possibility that he exploited becomes meaningless to him as the version of his “self” he enacts has fallen flat. Likewise, any future, to-be-exploited possibility toward projecting that version of himself is also meaningless to him. But to whom do these possibilities refuse themselves? Not to Caballero as Caballero the particular, subjective individual, but to Cabellero as that self which acted in and related to the world in terms of a pre-pandemic one. As such, it is not boring for Caballero as the individual person, but boring for him as “One” or insofar as he continues to rehearse a kind of oneness that is no longer meaningful to him. But in the context of his own boredom with that pre-pandemic self that causes his possibilities as that self to recede, that pre-pandemic-self does not lose its determinacy, “but rather the reverse, for this peculiar impoverishment which sets in with respect to ourselves in this ‘it is boring for one’ first brings the self in all its to nakedness to itself as the self that is there and has taken over the being-there of Dasein. For what purpose? To be that Dasein”. In other words, in his profound boredom, as the meaningful possibilities for acting are refused to him as a pre-pandemic-self, he becomes aware of this refusal of the pre-pandemic self, and consequently, becomes aware of the self itself, or the self which he has chosen to project over his existence (i.e., “being-there” or Dasein) in the world. In becoming aware of that pre-pandemic self, he becomes aware of (1) the fact that he has chosen to be or act as that self, (2) rehearsing what one does or what one did is not inherently meaningful, and (3) that, as a result, in his existence as Dasein he has the possibility to choose other selves that do not adhere to the “one.” For example, it is possible for him to take advantage of new socio-cultural possibilities that are becoming available such as: the emergence of partially or fully virtual employment, the shift toward smaller in-person social circles, and the new, national emphasis on self-care and mental wellbeing. Thus, his boredom discloses to him that he must accept the circumstances of his world as they are revealed to him and what actions may be possible within those circumstances. The circumstances, and by extension, the world itself, thereby determines how he can act. Since he must accept the world’s determinations as to how he can act, he necessarily submits himself to the world. Still, this submission is not entirely passive. Instead, because his boredom reveals that he is capable of enacting a self (in this case, his pre-pandemic self), he becomes consequently aware of the possibility of enacting other selves and other ways of performing “oneness” that are gradually being made possible to him and to all of us in general. As a result, his boredom reveals the originary capacity of Dasein to make-possible other selves and the fact that he can choose to make-possible other selves that are meaningful to him. Confronted with the immensity of Dasein’s capacity to make-possible, without any definite direction as to what self or possibility he should enact, he is “held-in-limbo.” The phenomenon of “being-held-in-limbo” also involves a unique form of temporality. Refused any meaning by rehearsing the pre-pandemic one-self by beings as a whole, Caballero is refused meaning in every respect, retrospect, and prospect, or in the past, present, and future. In this way, beings-as-a-whole are no longer open to him along a temporal horizon, and the possibilities that they present along this horizon are closed off to him as him self because he is no longer interested in them as future possibilities for meaning-making nor finds his past actions and exploited possibilities meaningful. But, if beings as a whole refuse themselves in terms of a temporal horizon, such that Caballero cannot move forward meaningfully in time alongside them (or, in recollecting, conceive of past instances of action as meaningful to him), then they also make manifest those possibilities which he has not yet exploited in terms of a temporal horizon. The unexploited possibilities are things which he may have done in the past (retrospect) or can do in the future (prospect). Confronted with Dasein’s capacity for making-possible in the past and future, he is not only held-in-limbo at the immensity of the unexploited possibilities available to him, but entranced in time insofar as these possibilities remain unexploited. For example, thinking back to his past experiences in the office or in his training to become a software developer, he may discern other opportunities that he did not take up such as, perhaps, working in a satellite location in New York City or South America, working at a different corporation, or becoming a doctor, engineer, or astronaut,. Conversely, thinking toward his future, he may discern possibilities that are available to him in the here and now. And yet, insofar as he does not take up these possibilities, he remains entranced in time such that he remains indifferent to his past, present, and future and cannot move meaningfully forwards or backwards in time. He breaks this entrancement and transcends his boredom by experiencing “the moment of vision.” As Heidegger writes in The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics , “the moment of vision is neither chosen as such nor reflected upon and known. It manifests itself to us as that which properly makes possible, that which is thereby intimated as such only in being entranced in the direction of the temporal horizon and from there, intimated as what could and ought to be given to be free in Dasein’s proper essence as that which makes it most intrinsically possible, yet now in the entrancement of Dasein is not thus given.” The moment of vision is not experienced as a dramatic, transcendental instance, but as a kind of realization of the fundamental, originary properties of Dasein (i.e., “what properly makes Dasein possible”). As a being-there which comports itself understandingly toward that being, Dasein’s capability to enact a self and comport itself as that self in the actions and choices it undertakes is fundamental to its existence as Dasein. Thus, the moment of vision involves a “resolute disclosure of Dasein to itself,” or an awareness of Dasein’s own freedom to choose which self it wants to enact and then enacting that self that it chooses. Because Dasein’s self-enactment occurs along a temporal horizon (i.e., Dasein understands itself to be its “self” through past actions and choices taken as that self, enacts that self in the present, and projects that self in the future), its entrancement in time during profound boredom intimates, in its being refused meaningful action and doing in every retrospect, respect, and prospect, Dasein’s capacity to engage in meaningful action and doing within a temporal horizon. Thus, the instance in which Caballero resolutely discloses his own freedom to choose a self he wants to enact to himself, he experiences a kind of “moment of vision.” Soon after returning to his regular pre-pandemic job, Caballero quit and started looking for jobs with better remote work options. Now, we can assume that Caballero has time to jump in his pool in-between meetings and pursue those hobbies and interests that were otherwise impossible with his daily, pre-pandemic commute. By quitting his job and choosing to explore an alternate possibility of post-pandemic one-ness that is meaningful to him (in that this possibility enables him to engage with aspects of his life that became important to him during the pandemic), Caballero has exercised his essential freedom as Dasein and altered his comportment toward the world in a way that enables him to engage in meaningful doing and action in every retrospect (i.e., his past experiences have given way to his new self-enactment and are thus meaningful to him) respect (i.e., his current choices and actions now harmonize with what is meaningful to him), and prospect (i.e., his future choices will be meaningful to him insofar as he continues to enact that self which enables him to realize those projects which are meaningful to him). In sum, by altering his comportment toward the world, Caballero enacts a new self within that world, one that authentically (insofar as this new comportment reflects what is meaningful to him) incorporates and utilizes “oneness” toward realizing and fulfilling himself meaningfully. Importantly, this transformation in how he comports himself toward the world involves a meaningful repetition of “what one did.” While Caballero, as a member of a particular socio-cultural framework which requires some degree of financial stability in order to continue participating within that same socio-cultural framework, continues to work, he does so in a way that enables him to pursue his other interests and passions. Thus, he repeats or rehearses oneness (i.e., the socio-cultural emphasis on financial stability) in a way that is meaningful to him as a particular self. Reciprocally, how he comports himself toward the world (i.e., rehearses oneness) as that particular self manifests that which is meaningful to him (i.e., those projects, interests, and passions that comprise his “for-the-sake-of-which”) as that self. While T.S. Eliot and Heidegger were distinct writers and thinkers, they both seem to proffer the meaningful repetition of one-ness as a solution to profound boredom. In Eliot’s work, his meaningful repetition of “oneness” is exemplified by the structural fragmentation within his poem “The Waste Land . ” Throughout the poem, Eliot includes miscellaneous fragments of Dante, Shakespeare, Greek myths, as well as ancient languages such as Sanskirt. On a superficial level, these fragments produce a sense of disorientation and confusion within the reader who must now assemble these fragments toward a cohesive interpretation of the poem. While the reader’s sense of disorientation parallels modern society’s confrontation with meaninglessness and subsequent inability to ground existence in meaningful forms of doing and action in post World War I society, the fragments also illustrate how aspects of past, traditional pieces of literature can be assembled or “repeated” in a way that allows them to meaningfully reflect the modern experience. In the final section of the poem “What The Thunder Said,” Eliot begins by describing an apocalyptic scene in which “there is no water but only rock” and Jerusalem, Athens, Alexandria, Vienna, London, all descend into “unreality.” Here, Eliot describes the literal and spiritual devastation of Western civilization. The downfall of Jerusalem, Athens, and Alexandria all represent the inability of Ancient Western religion, art, literature, and history to salvage modern society from its ruinous apocalypse of meaningful action and doing by grounding that doing and action in the traditional values and certainties that characterize them. Instead, the downfall of London and Vienna, describes the devastation of a modern society unable to meaningfully ground itself in its Western socio-historical traditions and values. Thus, London, Vienna, Alexandria, Athens, and Alexandria, become “unreal;” they no longer possess or provide a meaningful reference point for real modern life to guide itself. Following this apocalyptic scene, Eliot writes at the end of the poem: I sat upon the shore Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order? London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam uti chelidon—O swallow swallow Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih shantih shantih. Sitting upon the cusp of the poem’s conclusion and fishing for meaning within the “arid plains” of the apocalypse looming behind him and before him, Eliot attempts to reinvigorate fragments of canonical pieces of literature by “organizing his lands” or assembling them together in new ways. The line “ Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina ” is an allusion to Canto 26 of Dante’s “Purgatorio”, meaning “then he hid in the fire that refines them.” According to Sussex University Professor Cedric Watt’s explication of these last ten lines, “the ‘he’ is Arnaut Daniel, the medieval Provençal poet. He has just told Dante that he repents the sins of his past and looks forward to the heaven that he will eventually reach after suffering the purgatorial flames.” The following line “ Quando fiam uti chelidon ” from the anonymous Latin poem ''Pervigilium Veneris” means “when shall I be like the swallow.” In this poem, “the raped Philomela has undergone a healing metamorphosis into a songbird, making her complaints sound as joyous as a song. The next line, “O swallow swallow,” refers to Alfred Tennyson’s lyric in “The Princess” in which “a swallow is flying south to warm lands, away from the earthbound poet.” Finally, “ Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie ,” a line from Nerval’s ‘El Desdichado’, meaning “The Unfortunate or Disinherited Man,” a French poem with a Spanish title, means “The Prince of Aquitaine at the ruined tower.” According to Watts, “the gist of the poem is: ‘I’ve been through hell, but I’ve survived to tell the tale, I’ve known loss and grief, but I’ve had my dreams and can make songs of my experiences.” Independently, each of these lines refer back to larger poetic works, and thus refer back to the traditional literary structures, styles, and modes of human experience embedded in and advanced by these works. However, by separating these fragments from their larger poetic totality and compiling them together in a new structure, Eliot alienates them from the poetic works and traditional literary structures and meanings to which they pertain. By alienating them from their original works and compiling them together, Eliot also re-appropriates them in a creative way. Through this creative re-appropriation or repetition of these fragments, they ultimately produce a new narrative, one that neither of them originally pertained to or advanced. Essentially, this new narrative suggests that repentance or self-forgiveness will enable the grieving post-war civilization to transcend its own purgatorial limbo toward a kind of recuperation of meaningful doing and action in modern life. Because this narrative reflects and diagnoses the post-war human experience, Eliot’s creative repetition of past literary fragments enables him to meaningfully describe and reflect human life as it is, thus re-invigorating literature’s capacity to invoke human experience overall. As a result, the fragments “shore against his ruins,” or act as a buffer against his destruction as a poet in a dying artistic field and as a modern individual confronted with the meaninglessness of the traditional values and certainties implicit in socio-cultural norms. Eliot concludes the section ironically with “Why then Ile fit you, Hieronymo’s mad againe,” the subtitle of Thomas Kyd’s play The Spanish Tragedy meaning “why then I’ll fix it for you, Hieronymo’s mad again.” While the line acknowledges that his atypical poetic structure may induce readers to think him insane, Eliot’s “I’ll fix it for you” reaffirms us of his craftsmanship and ability to “fix” literature’s inability to capture and resolve modern society’s post-war sense of meaninglessness. The poem ends with the repetition of “shantih, shantih, shantih”, a Sanskrit word meaning peace or inner peace prayed at the end of the Upanishad in the Hindu religion. Pointing ambiguously toward Eastern modes of spirituality, Eliot leaves us to “fish” our own individual meaning out of his fragments. Because the poem incorporates a creative repetition of past canonical forms of literature toward developing a form that can meaningfully reflect the modern human experience, it attempts to restructure how “one” relates to and understands these canonical forms of literature. Instead of writings that can no longer invoke what it means to be human, Eliot’s fragmentation gives them a new applicability to the modern experience. Thus, Eliot’s creative repetition of how one related to canonical works makes those works newly meaningful to the post-war reader as a compilation of fragments, both within the poem (i.e., as resolving the poem’s central conflict) and as suggesting ways to transcend their own confrontation with meaningless and profound boredom in post-war society. Similarly, by creatively repeating and reassembling aspects of what one did in the pre-pandemic world with what one did during quarantine, we compile together a structure akin to Eliot’s fragmentation. Assembling these fragments of “oneness” in a new montage that authentically expresses how one, and how we each individually, relate to the world in the context of enormous crises, anxiety, and change, we can enact new possibilities of being and acting that are meaningful to us and, thus, shore against our own ruinous experiences with profound boredom and meaninglessness. While Heidegger’s “moment of vision” describes the instance we are disclosed to our own freedom to choose which selves we want to enact, Eliot’s fragmentation demonstrates how we can enact that self through meaningful repetitions of our oneness. While Caballero experienced a meaninglessness rehearsal of oneness in his return to the pre-pandemic work-life structure because it invoked a self that he no longer felt or understood himself to be, by quitting his job to pursue remote working options, he creatively assembles a performance of pre-pandemic one-ness (in that he continues to work) with a performance of quarantine one-ness (in that he begins to work virtually and make time for his other interests and passions) that reflects how he understands himself to “be” in the world. As such, the creative repetition of past possibilities seems to offer a productive solution to the post-pandemic phenomenon of profound boredom. As we each reevaluate our current rehearsal of oneness, quit our jobs, change our career or academic tracks, tighten our in-person social circles, restructure our relationships, and travel the world in pursuit of new possibilities for meaningful doing and action, we create new ways of understanding ourselves and relating to the world in general. Perhaps, a new performance of one-ness may be gradually unfolding before us. References Heidegger, Martin, and Edward Robinson. “Chapter 4, The They.” Essay. In Being and Time , translated by John Macquarrie, 149–68. Harper Perennial, n.d. Heidegger, Martin, William McNeill, and Nicholas Walker. Essay. In The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics: World, Finitude, Solitude , 136–52. Bloomington, Indianapolis, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995. Wrathall, Mark A. “Everydayness and The One.” Essay. In How to Read Heidegger , 47–70. New York, NY: W. W. Norton, 2006. Chapters 5-6 Eliot, T. S. “The Waste Land.” Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation. Accessed February 12, 2022. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47311/the-waste-land . Watts, Cedric. “The Last Ten and A Half Lines of the Waste Land.” The Last Ten and a Half Lines of the Wasteland . Poets.org.Academy of American Poets, May 20, 2004. https://poets.org/text/brief-guide-modernism . Hsu, Andrea. “As the Pandemic Recedes, Millions of Workers Are Saying 'I Quit'.” NPR , NPR, 24 June 2021. Bruner, Raisa. “Why Young People Are Quitting Jobs-and Not Going Back.” Time, Time, 29 Oct. 2021. Fontinelle, Amy. “The Great Resignation.” Investopedia. Investopedia, May 5, 2022. https://www.investopedia.com/the-great-resignation-5199074 .

Richard Wu Teotl vs. Tao: Comparing Tlamatinime and Taoist Thought Richard Wu Today, academic scholars and the general public primarily remember the Aztecs for their bloody human sacrifices, towering pyramid temples, and glittering gold wealth. However, lesser-known about the Mexica (Aztecs) is their rich tradition of philosophy, which flourished in isolation from its Old World counterparts. This research paper examines Mexica philosophy, drawing comparisons to another similar school of thought: Taoism in ancient China. Though separated by thousands of miles, Aztec thinkers in Mesoamerica and Taoist sages in China both independently arrived at the idea that the universe exists as a dialectical monism (a unified whole manifested through opposing forces). To the Mexica, the universe was in- fused with Teotl, a divine life-force analogous to the notion of Tao in Taoism. Like the Taoist conception of opposing-yet-interconnected yin and yang forces, Teotl was seen as a unified, interdependent duality. This common perception of the universe’s existence as a dialectical monism prompted both Mexica and Taoist philosophers to ponder the question: How should people live in a world permeated by duality? Interestingly, the two different philosophies reached the same conclusion: a moral, virtuous life is a life of balance. Thus, for Aztecs and Taoists alike, philosophy was not solely confined to the realm of intellectual inquiry; rather, philosophy became an integral part of everyday life. When Spanish conquistadors arrived at the Mexica (Aztec) capital of Tenochtitlan in 1519, they were astounded to encounter one of the world’s largest cities of the period. In fact, Tenochtitlan’s canals, markets, gardens, and temples so impressed the Spaniards that the conquistador Bernal Diaz del Castillo would later compare the Mexica capital city to an enchanting dream (1). However, within the next two years, this enchanting dream would be destroyed, both physically and ideologically. The Spanish razed Tenochtitlan to the ground during their conquest of Mexico, covering the ruins of Aztec buildings with what would become Mexico City. Accompanying the conquest was the substantial destruction of Mexica cultural heritage—zealous Spanish clergy members replaced Aztec gods with Jesus and the Virgin Mary, ended the use of the Mesoamerican calendar, and burned countless codices. Further, the Spanish conquest erased another essential facet of Mexica culture: the Aztec school of philosophy. Mexica philosophers, called tlamatinime (literally ‘knowers of things’ in the Aztec language, Nahuatl), developed a rich intellectual tradition in complete isolation from Pythagoreanism in Greece, Confucianism in China, or any other philosophy of the Old World (2). In regards to philosophy at large, much of Western academia has historically dismissed non-Western philosophical inquiry, including Mexica thought. However, newer works of the past few decades—such as Ben-Ami Scharfstein’s paper “The Western Blindness to Non-Western Philosophies”—argue against this Euro- centric view of philosophy, validating the rich history of philosophical engagement in non-Western cultures (3). In this context of wider philosophical discussion, this work intends to shed light on a topic that has received relatively little academic attention, thereby adding to recognition of non-Western thought. This paper seeks to compare and contrast Mexica tlamatinime thought with another non-Western school of philosophy: Taoism in ancient China. The first half of this paper examines the historical context, metaphysics, ethics, and societal implications of Aztec philosophy. The second half includes a comparative examination of Taoism and its historical context, metaphysics, ethics, and societal implications. Though seemingly irrelevant to one another, these two philosophies share many similar ideas regarding metaphysics and ethics––notably, the concept of the universe as a dialectical polar monism, as well as an emphasis on balance. Despite the ideological resemblance, however, these philosophies also developed within different sociopolitical contexts, leading the tlamatinime and the Taoists to diverge in their views on the applications of philosophy. I. Aztec Philosophy Note: Though the Spanish destroyed most of the pre-Columbian Aztec codices following the conquest of Mexico, many post-conquest era documents from both native and Spanish sources exist today. In addition, poems composed prior to the conquest survived through oral transmission. From these remaining sources and archaeological studies, scholars can glean an understanding of Mexica thought today. A. Origins and Context of Aztec Philosophy Although Aztec philosophy may have had precedents in the earlier Teotihuacano or Toltec civilizations, the scarcity of written documents from these older civilizations precludes historiographic study of pre-Mexica thought in central Mexico. However, philosophical inquiry blossomed in Mesoamerica by the time of the Aztecs. In his book 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus, historian and writer Charles C. Mann references many surviving Nahuatl manuscripts that describe Mexica tlamatinime meetings in cities like Tenochtitlan (4). The fact that the tlamatinime frequently met for intellectual exchanges and discussions indicates that the Aztecs already had a flourishing philosophical tradition prior to the Spaniards’ arrival. Interestingly, this philosophical tradition emerged from the Aztecs’ obsession with a central problem: the transience of existence. Mortality and impermanence permeated many aspects of Mexica culture, from religion to society to intellectual thought. In religion, human sacrifices sought to prolong the universe’s existence by sustaining the gods with human blood (5). In everyday society, annual death celebrations—which have survived to this day in the form of Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead) festivities—reminded all of the inevitability of mortality (6). Finally, in intellectual circles, the tlamatinime grappled with the philosophical implications of life in a transitory world (7). A poem ascribed to Nezahualcoyotl, a tlamatini (the singular of tlamatinime ) and tlatoani (ruler) of Texcoco, serves as a memento mori in its contemplation on the ephemeral nature of existence: I, Nezahualcoyotl, ask this: Do we truly live on earth? Not forever here, only a little while. Even jade breaks, golden things fall apart, precious feathers fade; not forever on earth, only a moment here (8). The question presented at the beginning of Nezahualcoyotl’s poem is one that Mexica thinkers contemplated: “Do we truly live on earth?” (9). When analyzing this question, the words ‘truly’ and ‘earth’ should be emphasized for their nuances in the Nahuatl language. The Nahuatl word for ‘truth,’ neltiliztli , also means ‘rootedness’ (10) since the Aztecs believed “what was true was well-grounded, stable and immutable, enduring above all” (11). Indeed, this was what the tlamatinime sought: to find what was true and enduring while living in an impermanent world fraught with hazards. The Nahuatl word for ‘earth,’ tlalticpac , also denotes “a narrow, jagged, point-like place surrounded by constant dangers” (12). When these linguistic nuances are placed together into the poem’s context, the answer to Nezahualcoyotl’s question emerges: people do not ‘truly’ live on earth because humans’ earthly existence is fleeting, and even the short duration of that existence itself is filled with struggle. This implied answer to Nezahualcoyotl’s question echoes the response seen in the poem: “Not forever here, / only a little while” (13). According to Nezahualcoyotl, not only is human existence fleeting, but even the most valuable materials—gold, jade, precious feathers—are also subject to the ravages of time. The sobering realization that nothing in the world lasts forever prompts the questions that drive Mexica philosophy: What is enduring and true? How can humans, “beings of the moment[,] grasp the perduring?” (14). Most importantly, how should people live on the tlalticpac ? B. Ideas of Aztec Philosophy To address the transience of existence and find a source of rootedness on the hazardous tlalticpac , the Mexica tlamatinime turned to metaphysics. Central to the Aztecs’ conception of the universe is Teotl (literally ‘spirit’ or ‘god’ in the Nahuatl language), an unending, divine life-force that simultaneously transcends and permeates all of existence. According to the tlamatinime , this life-force not only comprises everything in the universe, but also presents itself in the “ceaseless, cyclical oscillation of polar-yet-complementary opposites” that pervades the cosmos (15). The worldview espoused by Mexica metaphysics can best be described as a “dialectical polar monism,” a term which can be broken down into its constituent words for further insight (16). ‘Monism’ posits that everything in the universe is part of a single, seamless whole. ‘Polar’ implies that this single whole consists of opposing halves. ‘Dialectical’ suggests that these opposing halves are not separate but rather constantly interacting, like two sides debating in discourse. This perception of the world as a dialectical polar monism can be observed in surviving Mesoamerican artwork. Archaeological investigations have found half- face-half-skull masks that depict both life and death in locations such as Tlatilco and Oaxaca (17). Similarly, the Life-Death Figure sandstone sculpture displayed at the Brooklyn Museum portrays a living manifestation of the deity Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl on its front and a skeleton manifestation of Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl on the back (18). These artworks, which can be said to represent a state of being “neither- alive-nor-dead-yet-both-alive-and-dead all at once,” convey the inextricable na- ture of life and death: life inevitably ends in death, but death gives way to new life (19). Figure 1. Split-Face Mask (20) Image Credit: Photo Courtesy of the National Institute of Anthropology and History of Mexico (Licensed Under Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0) Figure 2. Life-Death Figure (21) Image Credit: Huastec. Life-Death Figure , 900-1250. Sandstone, traces of pigment, 62 3/8 x 26 x 11 1/2 in. (158.4 x 66 x 29.2 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Frank Sherman Benson Fund and the Henry L. Batterman Fund, 37.2897PA. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: 37.2897PA_front_PS11.jpg) In a similar fashion, the tlamatinime saw other pairs of opposites—male/female, light/dark, etc.—as mutually-intertwined dualities infused with Teotl . Thus, with the view that the universe is a dialectical polar monism permeated by the spiritual energy of Teotl , Mexica metaphysics gave the tlamatinime an interpretation of the transience of existence. The unending dialectical oscillations between the universe’s polar extremes prevent any kind of long-term stability or rootedness. Despite this lack of stability, Teotl exists with reliable consistency. Scholar James Maffie comments: .... Teotl is nevertheless characterized by enduring pattern or regularity. How is this so? Teotl is the dynamic, sacred energy shaping as well as consti- tuting these endless oscillations; it is the immanent balance of the endless, dialectical alternation of the created universe’s interdependent polarities (22). Significantly, Teotl endures because it exists in a state of “immanent balance” that permeates the entirety of existence (23). While the dialectical nature of Teotl can give rise to short-term or localized polar extremes, the oscillations of Teotl ultimately balance out those extremes, promoting long-term overall balance throughout the universe. From this understanding of Teotl , the tlamatinime arrived at the conclusion that only through attaining balance and avoiding extremes can humans succeed in finding rootedness on the precarious tlalticpac . C. Ethical/Societal Impacts of Aztec Philosophy The Mexicas’ metaphysical focus on duality and balance led to the development of Mexica ethics. The tlamatinime believed that a virtuous, moral life promotes balance and abstains from excess. The Illustrated Encyclopedia of the Aztec and Maya gives an overview of Mexica ethics and morality: Aztecs were generally agreed as to what constituted good behavior. Ac- cording to Bernardino de Sahagun, author of General History of the Things of New Spain , virtuous Aztecs...brought energy to their work, without overin- dulging in sleep but rising early and laboring for long hours. They ate and drank in moderation; drunkenness was particularly frowned upon. They did not make a great noise when eating, thought carefully before speaking, and were circumspect in what they said. They dressed and behaved with modesty (24). Indeed, the Aztec education and law systems exhibited the importance Mexica philosophy placed on living a balanced life. In education, Aztec schools strove to instill moral virtues in young students. These schools, which often hired tlamatinime as teachers, allowed Mexica philosophy to shape the growth and development of Aztec youth (25). A common Nahuatl instructive proverb of the Florentine Codex, a 16th-century codex documenting Aztec culture, demonstrates the impact of tlamatinime thought on Mexica education: “ Tlacoqualli in monequi . [Translation and meaning:] Moderation is proper. We should not dress in rags, nor should we overdress. In the matter of clothing, we should dress with moderation” (26). By teaching younger generations to lead moderate, balanced lives, the Mexica education system successfully integrated and adapted the teachings of the tlamatinime . Similarly, Aztec laws display the influence of tlamatinime thought. The renowned tlamatini and tlatoani Nezahualcoyotl, who transformed his city into “‘the Athens of the Western World,’” enacted Texcoco’s law code (27). Under Nezahualcoyotl’s legal reforms, the judicial system criminalized actions and behaviors which were viewed as disruptive to societal balance, including “treason against the king, adultery, robbery, superstition, misuse of inherited properties, homicide, homosexuality, alcohol abuse, and military misconduct” (28). As stated by the chronicler Fernando de Alva Cortés Ixtlilxóchitl, Nezahualcoyotl’s new legal code was considered so advanced and efficient that even the “kings of Tenochtitlan and Tlacopan [the other two most significant cities of the Aztec Empire] adopted Nezahualcoyotl’s laws and governmental standards” (29). The tlamatinime not only played a crucial role in fostering Aztec intellectual life; they also nurtured a more balanced and harmonious society. Unfortunately, as Mann laments in 1491 , the loss of the Mexica philosophical tradition after the Spanish conquest “was a loss not just to [the Aztecs]...but to the human enterprise as a whole” (30). II. Taoist Philosophy Note: This section will consider another school of philosophy, Taoism, and compare and contrast Taoism with Aztec philosophy. The romanizations ‘Taoism’ and ‘Daoism’ refer to the same school of thought; for the sake of consistency, the name ‘Taoism’ will be used in discussion from here on. However, since the alternative romanization ‘Daoism’ is also commonly accepted in academia today, some quotations will contain the name ‘Daoism’ instead of ‘Taoism’ or refer to the philosophical concept of ‘Dao’ instead of ‘Tao.’ A. Origins and Context of Taoist Philosophy More than a millennium before the rise of the Aztec Empire in Mexico, China’s Zhou Dynasty splintered into a multitude of warring kingdoms. In the turbulent era of warfare and chaos that followed, an unexpected development occurred: the blooming of Chinese philosophy, a phenomenon later referred to as the “Hundred Schools of Thought” (31). Because of the political fragmentation of the time, no intellectual orthodoxy existed to restrain philosophical inquiry, and China’s warring states were thus open to various different schools of thought. The intellectual diversity of this period sprouted many of imperial China’s foundational philosophies, such as Confucianism, Legalism, Mohism, and Taoism. Of these philosophies, Taoism bears much resemblance to Aztec philosophy. Few historical records about the early history of Taoism survive today due to the Qin dynasty’s book-burning campaigns, but remaining Chinese sources trace Taoist philosophy to the teachings of the legendary sage Laozi, purported author of the Tao Te Ching , and the philosopher Zhuangzi, who is credited with writing the Zhuangzi (32). Unlike the Confucians of the time, who were primarily interested in applying theories of ethics to human relationships, Taoists stressed “meta-ethical reflections [which] were by turns skeptical then relativist, here naturalist and there mystical” (33). Thus, from a metaphysical standpoint, “Daoism is naturalistic in that any first-order moral dao [way] must be rooted in natural ways” (34). In other words, Taoist philosophers were skeptical of Confucianism’s rigid ethical emphasis on society and human relationships; instead, they looked beyond the human world to metaphysics and the natural environment to guide their reflections on ethics, a philosophical pursuit somewhat similar to that of the Mexica tlamatinime . Political history often greatly shapes the development of philosophy. While the tlamatinime of the Aztec Empire lived during a time of political unity and prosperity, Taoism and the other Chinese philosophies among the “Hundred Schools of Thought” were established during the Spring-Autumn and Warring States periods, when China was filled with political strife and divided into separate states. As a result, Mexica thought is a more unified body of philosophy than the diverse schools of traditional Chinese thought. Further historical developments complicate the disparities between Mexica and Taoist thought. Due to imperial China’s later history of relative political and cultural unity, “many philosophers of the time [Song through Qing dynasties] developed theories and methods of self-cultivation that mixed Confucianism with Buddhism and Daoism” (35). The philosophical and religious blending of later Chinese history highlights an important difference between the schools of thought. Whereas Chinese zhe xue jia (philosophers) could build upon these other theories, Mexica tlamatinime, as the product of an isolated, cohesive philosophical tradition, did not have significant contact with other philosophies, and thus they lacked the opportunity to engage with external ideas. B. Ideas of Taoist Philosophy Taoism centers around the concept of Tao . Often translated to English as “way,” the Tao drives the main question behind Taoist philosophy: What is the right way for people to live? Like the tlamatinime, who asked how humans should live on the tlalticpac , Taoist thinkers did not pursue philosophy for the sake of philosophy. Rather, they aimed to reach an understanding of how to best approach everyday life. To the Taoists, the concept of Tao as “way” is central to this understanding. With that said, the term ‘way’ inadequately describes Tao in many contexts. Sinologist Arthur Waley notes that the Chinese word Tao comes with multiple connotations: ...[Tao] means a road, path, way; and hence, the way in which one does something; method, doctrine, principle...in a particular school of philosophy whose followers came to be called Taoists, Tao meant ‘the way the universe works’; and ultimately something very like God, in the more abstract and philosophical sense of that term (36). Waley’s definition of Tao as “the way the universe works” is a more elaborate and accurate description than the simple “way,” but this designation still does not fully capture the essence of Tao (37). According to scholar Chad Hansen, Tao “appears more metaphysical than ‘way,’” (38) an assertion which is supported in the Zhuangzi by Zhuangzi’s statement, “Fishes breed and grow in the water; man develops in the Dao ” (39). This analogy implies that the Tao is like an endless metaphysical ocean that surrounds and encompasses all of existence. Zhuangzi’s conception of the Tao is analogous to Mexica philosophy’s idea of Teotl: Teotl and Tao are both seamless totalities that make up the universe and everything in it. Another important aspect of the Taoist worldview is the notion of yin and yang forces. Yin is associated with darkness, coldness, and passivity, while yang refers to light, warmth, and action. Taoism posits that these “correlatives are the expressions of the movement of Dao ...not opposites, mutually excluding each other... [but rather] the ebb and flow of the forces of reality: yin / yang , male/female; excess/ defect; leading/following; active/passive” (40). In the Tao Te Ching , Laozi presents the nature of the yin-yang duality through several seemingly paradoxical statements: It is because every one under Heaven recognizes beauty as beauty, that the idea of ugliness exists. And equally if every one recognized virtue as virtue, this would merely create fresh conceptions of wickedness. For truly ‘Being and Not-being grow out of one another; Difficult and easy complete one another. Long and short test one another; High and low determine one another. Pitch and mode give harmony to one another. Front and back give sequence to one another’ (41). Laozi’s first claim that the recognition of beauty begets the idea of ugliness initially appears contradictory. Upon further inspection, it becomes apparent that a perception of what is beauty also requires an understanding of what is not beauty, and thus, of what is ugly . Likewise, the other opposites in the pairs mentioned—virtue/wickedness, being/non-being, difficulty/easiness, and so on—appear to be mutually exclusive antitheses, but are in reality inseparable and interdependent entities. This cyclic nature of duality portrayed by Laozi and other Taoist thinkers parallels the dialectical oscillations of Teotl in tlamatinime thought. In examining the concepts of Tao and yin-yang in the context of Taoist philosophy, a noteworthy conclusion arises: Taoist metaphysics, like Mexica metaphysics, perceives the universe as a dialectical polar monism. Both philosophies view the universe as a cyclical, oscillating whole permeated by balance between polar extremes. In the case of the tlamatinime , this balance is an aspect of Teotl ; in the case of the Taoists, this balance is an aspect of the Tao . Visually, an artistic interpretation of this idea can be seen in the Taijitu symbol associated with Taoism (42). The Taijitu symbol consists of a black sliver (representing yin ) and white sliver (representing yang ) melded together into one circle, which represents the unity implicit in duality described in the Tao Te Ching . Each sliver contains a dot of the opposite color, indicating that yin and yang are mutually interconnected—in yin can be found yang , and in yang can be found yin . The Taijitu symbol bears striking aesthetic and ideological similarities to Aztec designs pictured in the Codex Magliabechiano (43). The Aztec designs, known as xicalcoliuhqui motifs in Nahuatl, represent the universe’s dialectical “motion-change...[that] nourishes and renews existing cycles [of Teotl ] as well as initiates new cycles” (44). Figure 3. Taijitu Symbol (45) Image Credit: Image Courtesy of Gregory Maxwell (Public Domain) Figure 4. Codex Magliabechiano Illustrations (46) Image Credit: Photos Courtesy of Ancient Americas at LACMA (ancientamericas.org) C. Ethical/Societal Impacts of Taoist Philosophy Like the Aztec tlamatinime , Taoist philosophers also applied their metaphysics to ethics. In Taoist ethics, the definition of Tao as “way” is relatively fitting, as Taoist ethics seeks to understand the right way to live. But how can this way be applied to everyday life? The Tao Te Ching provides an answer: Those who possess this Tao do not try to fill themselves to the brim, And because they do not try to fill themselves to the brim They are like a garment that endures all wear and need never be renewed (47) In this passage, Laozi uses the imagery of a bucket filled to the brim with water to describe people who lead lives of overindulgence. Like the bucket—which contains an excess of water and cannot be easily carried without spilling and wasting some of its contents—people who lead lives filled with excess gluttony, greed, or lust will end up wasting their resources, leading to an unsustainable way of life. Thus, Laozi believes that people can maintain a sustainable life by avoiding extremes and excess. By not filling up the bucket completely to the brim, one will be able to carry the bucket without spilling and wasting any water. Therefore, those who lead lives of balance and moderation “need never be renewed” (48). Laozi’s advice echoes the tlamatinime teachings seen from phrases such as tlacoqualli in monequi (moderation is proper). Thus, for both the Taoists and the tlamatinime , balance and moderation play a crucial role in ethics. Despite the significance of balance in both Taoist and Mexica ethics, the two philosophical traditions approached societal institutions differently. While the tlamatinime actively encouraged balanced, proper behavior through educational and legal systems, Taoist philosophers saw human institutions—including schools and laws—as a source of imbalance to the universe’s natural harmony. This Taoist opinion rejected Confucianism’s obsession with order and rule-setting. Scholar Ronnie Littlejohn comments: Confucius and his followers wanted to change the world and be proactive in setting things straight. They wanted to tamper, orchestrate, plan, educate, develop, and propose solutions...Confucians think they can engineer reality, understand it, name it, control it. But the Daoists think that such endeavors are the source of our frustration and fragmentation [because such acts create imbalance]...They believe the Confucians create a gulf between humans and nature, that weakens and destroys us (49). The differing historical contexts of Aztec and Chinese philosophies explain their contrasting attitudes toward societal institutions. As noted earlier, unlike Mexica philosophy, Taoism was not isolated from other schools of thought, and thus it was subject to influences from other philosophies, especially Confucianism. Here, disagreement with the perceived excess of Confucian order and rules fueled the Taoist disapproval of government and other societal institutions (which were often led by Confucians). Hansen describes this sociopolitical stance as resembling “anarchism, pluralism, [and/or] laissez faire government,” which markedly contrasts with the active role of the tlamatinime in the Mexica government (50). Since Taoists sought to avoid entanglement in government and politics, Confucians eventually dominated China’s educational and legal systems. However, Taoism did not become irrelevant in Chinese society; the Neo-Confucian ideology of later dynasties integrated Taoist metaphysical influences with Confucian ethics (51). Taoist philosophy also impacted Chinese intellectual culture and aesthetics, as seen in Taoist contributions to various subjects, such as martial arts, meditation (52), astronomy, mathematics (53), medicine (54), art, and poetry (55). On a larger scale, Taoism played a role in revolutionizing world history; inventions including gunpowder, printing, and the compass trace back to Taoist thinker-scientists’ experimental efforts to understand the nature of the Tao (56). III. Conclusion If brought together into a philosophical discussion today, the Aztec tlamatinime and Taoist sages would likely agree on many metaphysical and ethical ideas. The Mexica focus on Teotl and duality is remarkably similar to the Taoist conception of the Tao and yin-yang , as both philosophies see the universe as a dialectical polar monism. With this shared metaphysical outlook, the two schools of thought concur that balance and moderation enable humans to lead moral, virtuous lives. However, in discussions on the practical applications of philosophy—such as the pros and cons of government—the tlamatinime and Taoist thinkers would likely diverge in their views. Imagining this theoretical discussion between tlamatinime and Taoists provides us with some insight into the nature of humanity. Though people may appear to be divided by dichotomies—Western/non-Western, liberal/conservative, rich/ poor, male/female, tlamatinime /Taoist—humankind is ultimately one, similar to the metaphysical conception of the universe as a dialectical polar monism. When looking at the bigger picture, this similarity between the human world and the abstract metaphysics of the universe also reflects the oneness between the existence of humanity and the universe we live in. Endnotes 1 Castillo Bernal Díaz del, and John Ingram Lockhart, The Memoirs of the Conquistador Bernal Diaz Del Castillo , (London: J. Hatchard and Son, 1844), 219. 2 Mann, Charles C., 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus , (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2005), 121-123. 3 Scharfstein, Ben-Ami, “The Western Blindness to Non-Western Philosophies,” The Paideia Archive: Twentieth World Congress of Philosophy , No. 1 (1998): 102-108, DOI: 10.5840/wcp20-paideia19985122. 4 Mann, Charles C., 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus , 123. 5 Phillips, Charles M., and David M. Jones, “Many Types of Blood Offering,” in The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Aztec & Maya: The History, Legend, Myth and Culture of the Ancient Native Peoples of Mexico and Central America , (London: Hermes House, an imprint of Anness Publishing, 2010), 58-59. 6 Morgan, John D., Pittu Laungani, and Stephen Palmer, Death and Bereavement Around the World: Death and Bereavement in the Americas , Vol. 2, (Amityville: Baywood Publishing, 2003), 75-76. 7 Maffie, James, “Aztec Philosophy,” in Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, (Martin: University of Tennessee at Martin, 2005), https://www.iep.utm.edu/aztec/. Accessed May 2019. 8 León-Portilla Miguel, Earl Shorris, Sylvia Shorris, Ascensión H. de León-Portilla, and Jorge Klor de Alva José, In the Language of Kings: An Anthology of Mesoamerican Literature, Pre-Columbian to the Present , (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2002), 146. 9 Ibid, 146. 10 Maffie, “Aztec Philosophy.” 11 Mann, Charles C., 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus , 122. 12 Maffie, “Aztec Philosophy.” 13 León-Portilla, Miguel, et al., In the Language of Kings: An Anthology of Mesoamerican Literature, Pre-Columbian to the Present , 146. 14 Mann, Charles C., 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus , 122. 15 Maffie, “Aztec Philosophy.” 16 Ibid. 17 Markman, Peter T., and Roberta H. Markman, Masks of the Spirit: Image and Metaphor in Mesoamerica , (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 89-90. 18 “Life-Death Figure,” sculpture, 900-1250 AD, Brooklyn Museum, https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/ opencollection/objects/118927. Accessed May 2019. 19 Maffie, “Aztec Philosophy.” 20 “Cabeza de La Dualidad,” sculpture, 500-800 AD, Museo Nacional de Antropología, http://mediateca. inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/islandora/object/objetoprehispanico%3A20534. Accessed December 2020. 21 “Life-Death Figure.” 22 Maffie, “Aztec Philosophy.” 23 Ibid. 24 Phillips, Charles M., and David M. Jones, “Wise Governance, Strict Punishment,” in The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Aztec & Maya: The History, Legend, Myth and Culture of the Ancient Native Peoples of Mexico and Central America , (London: Hermes House, an imprint of Anness Publishing, 2010), 108. 25 Mann, Charles C., 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus , 121. 26 Reagan, Timothy G., Non-Western Educational Traditions: Alternative Approaches to Educational Thought and Practice , (Mahwah: Taylor and Francis, 2005), 103. 27 Tuck, Jim, “Nezahualcoyotl: Texcoco’s Philosopher King (1403–1473),” Mexconnect, 2008, https://www. mexconnect.com/articles/298-nezahualcoyotl-texcoco-s-philosopher-king-1403%e2%80%931473. Accessed May 2019. 28 Lee, Jongsoo, The Allure of Nezahualcoyotl: Pre-Hispanic History, Religion, and Nahua Poetics , (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2015), 120. 29 Ibid, 120. 30 Mann, Charles C., 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus , 123. 31 Liu, Zehua, “The Contending Among the Hundred Schools of Thought During the Warring States Period and the Development of the Theory of Monarchical Autocracy,” Chinese Studies in Philosophy, No. 1 (1990): 58–87, DOI: 10.2753/csp1097-1467220158. 32 Hansen, Chad, “Daoism,” in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy , (Stanford: Stanford University, 2003), https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/daoism/. Accessed May 2019. 33 Ibid. 34 Ibid. 35 Kohn, Livia, Daoism Handbook , (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 643. 36 Laozi, and Arthur Waley, The Way and Its Power: Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought , (New York: Grove Press, 1997), 30. 37 Ibid, 30. 38 Hansen, Chad, “Daoism.” 39 Zhuangzi, and James Legge, “The Great and Most Honoured Master,” Zhuangzi Chinese Text Project, (Cambridge: Harvard-Yenching Institute, 2006), https://ctext.org/zhuangzi/great-and-most-honoured-master. Accessed May 2019. 40 Littlejohn, Ronnie, “Daoist Philosophy,” in Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, (Martin: University of Tennessee at Martin, 2015), https://www.iep.utm.edu/daoism/. Accessed May 2019. 41 Laozi, and Arthur Waley, The Way and Its Power: Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought , 2. 42 Maxwell, Gregory, “Yin-Yang,” Wikipedia Commons, 2005, https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/ commons/1/17/Yin_yang.svg. Accessed May 2019. 43 Florimond, Joseph, duc de Loubat, and Ancient Americas at LACMA, “Codex Magliabecchiano (Loubat 1904, Page 5 Verso),” Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies, 2013, http://www.famsi.org/research/ loubat/Magliabecchiano/page_05v.jpg. Accessed December 2020. 44 Maffie, James, “Weaving the Aztec Cosmos: The Metaphysics of the 5th Era,” Mexicolore, 2011, https:// www.mexicolore.co.uk/aztecs/home/aztec-philosophy. Accessed May 2019. 45 Maxwell, Gregory, “Yin-Yang.” 46 Florimond, Joseph, duc de Loubat, and Ancient Americas at LACMA, “Codex Magliabecchiano (Loubat 1904, Page 5 Verso).” 47 Laozi, and Arthur Waley, The Way and Its Power: Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought , 15. 48 Ibid, 15. 49 Littlejohn, Ronnie, “Daoist Philosophy.” 50 Hansen, Chad, “Daoism.” 51 Berthrong, John H., “Neo-Confucian Philosophy,” in Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, (Martin: University of Tennessee at Martin, 2005), https://www.iep.utm.edu/neo-conf/. Accessed May 2019. 52 Hansen, Chad, “Daoism.” 53 Camilli, Joseph A., “Taoism: The Exploration of Philosophy and Religion in a Chinese Cultural Context,” Chinese History, (Milwaukee: Marquette University Klinger College of Arts and Sciences, 2002), https://academic. mu.edu/meissnerd/camilli.html. Accessed May 2019. 54 Little, Stephen, and Shawn Eichman, Taoism and the Arts of China , (Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago, 2000), 13-14. 55 Chang, Chung-Yuan, Creativity and Taoism: A Study of Chinese Philosophy, Art and Poetry , (New York: Harper and Row, 1970), 8-177. 56 Little, Stephen, and Shawn Eichman, Taoism and the Arts of China , 47. Bibliography Berthrong, John H. “Neo-Confucian Philosophy.” In Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy . Martin, TN: University of Tennessee at Martin, 2005. Accessed May 2019. https://www.iep.utm.edu/neo-conf/. Cabeza de La Dualidad . Sculpture. 500-800 AD. Museo Nacional de Antropología. Accessed December 2020. http://mediateca.inah.gob.mx/islandora_74/is- landora/object/objetoprehispanico%3A20534. Camilli, Joseph A. “Taoism: The Exploration of Philosophy and Religion in a Chinese Cultural Context.” Chinese History. Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Klinger College of Arts and Sciences, 2002. Accessed May 2019. https://academic.mu.edu/meissnerd/camilli.html. Castillo Bernal Díaz del, and John Ingram Lockhart. The Memoirs of the Conquistador Bernal Diaz Del Castillo. London: J. Hatchard and Son, 1844. Chang, Chung-Yuan. Creativity and Taoism: A Study of Chinese Philosophy, Art and Poetry. New York, NY: Harper and Row, 1970. Florimond, Joseph, duc de Loubat, and Ancient Americas at LACMA. “Codex Magliabecchiano (Loubat 1904, Page 5 Verso).” Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies , 2013. Accessed December 2020. http://www. famsi.org/research/loubat/Magliabecchiano/page_05v.jpg. Hansen, Chad. “Daoism.” In Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy . Stanford, CA: Stanford University, 2003. Accessed May 2019. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/daoism/. Kohn, Livia. Daoism Handbook. Leiden: Brill, 2004. Laozi, and Arthur Waley. The Way and Its Power: Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought . New York, NY: Grove Press, 1997. Lee, Jongsoo. The Allure of Nezahualcoyotl: Pre-Hispanic History, Religion, and Nahua Poetics. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2015. León-Portilla, Miguel, Earl Shorris, Sylvia Shorris, Ascensión H. de León-Portilla, and Jorge Klor de Alva José. In the Language of Kings: An Anthology of Mesoamerican Literature, Pre-Columbian to the Present . New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co., 2002. Life-Death Figure . Sculpture. 900-1250 AD. Brooklyn Museum. Accessed May 2019. https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/118927. Little, Stephen, and Shawn Eichman. Taoism and the Arts of China . Chicago, IL: Art Institute of Chicago, 2000. Littlejohn, Ronnie. “Daoist Philosophy.” In Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Martin, TN: University of Tennessee at Martin, 2015. Accessed May 2019. https://www.iep.utm.edu/daoism/. Maffie, James. “Aztec Philosophy.” In Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Martin, TN: University of Tennessee at Martin, 2005. Accessed May 2019. https:// www.iep.utm.edu/aztec/. Maffie, James. “Weaving the Aztec Cosmos: The Metaphysics of the 5th Era.” Mexicolore, 2011. Accessed May 2019. https://www.mexicolore.co.uk/aztecs/home/aztec- philosophy. Mann, Charles C. 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus . New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf, 2005. Markman, Peter T., and Roberta H. Markman. Masks of the Spirit: Image and Metaphor in Mesoamerica . Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Maxwell, Gregory. “Yin-Yang.” Wikipedia Commons , 2005. Accessed May 2019. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/17/Yin_yang.svg. Morgan, John D., Pittu Laungani, and Stephen Palmer. Death and Bereavement Around the World: Death and Bereavement in the Americas . Vol. 2. Amityville, NY: Baywood Publishing, 2003. Phillips, Charles M., and David M. Jones. “Many Types of Blood Offering.” In The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Aztec & Maya: The History, Legend, Myth and Culture of the Ancient Native Peoples of Mexico and Central America . London: Hermes House, an imprint of Anness Publishing, 2010. Phillips, Charles M., and David M. Jones. “Wise Governance, Strict Punishment.” In The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Aztec & Maya: The History, Legend, Myth and Culture of the Ancient Native Peoples of Mexico and Central America . London: Hermes House, an imprint of Anness Publishing, 2010. Reagan, Timothy G. Non-Western Educational Traditions: Alternative Approaches to Educational Thought and Practice . Mahwah, NJ: Taylor and Francis, 2005. Scharfstein, Ben-Ami. “The Western Blindness to Non-Western Philosophies.” The Paideia Archive: Twentieth World Congress of Philosophy , No. 1 (1998), 102– 108. DOI: 10.5840/wcp20-paideia19985122. Tuck, Jim. “Nezahualcoyotl: Texcoco’s Philosopher King (1403–1473).” Mexconnect , 2008. Accessed May 2019. https://www.mexconnect.com/articles/298-ne-zahualcoyotltexcoco- s-philosopher-king-1403%e2%80%931473. Liu, Zehua. “The Contending Among the Hundred Schools of Thought During the Warring States Period and the Development of the Theory of Monarchical Autocracy.” Chinese Studies in Philosophy 22, No. 1 (1990): 58–87. DOI: 10.2753/csp1097-1467220158. Zhuangzi, and James Legge. “The Great and Most Honoured Master.” Zhuangzi Chinese Text Project . Cambridge, MA: Harvard-Yenching Institute, 2006. Accessed May 2019. https://ctext.org/zhuangzi/great-and-most-honoured-master. Previous Next

American Jews The Political Behavior of American Jews A Public Choice Approach to Israel-influenced Voting Jake Goodman Brown University Author Eli Binder Audrey McDermott Ethan Shire Editors Spring 2018 The paper analyzes the voting incentives created by the relationship between American Jews and American-Israeli foreign relations. At the founding of the Jewish State in 1948, the United States recognized the establishment of a Zionist state through a press release from President Truman on March 14, 1948 (U.S. Recognition of the State of Israel). The two main political parties in the United States— the Democrats and Republicans—have both since maintained consistent political, economic, and military support for Israel. This support has come to be viewed by American Jewish voters, most of whom desire support for Israel, as a public good provided by the United States Government. This public good has direct ramifications on voter incentives. However, despite bipartisan support for foreign aid to Israel, American Jews have remained consistently liberal. While social scientists have offered various theories of why American Jews became and remain Democratic, a cogent explanation can be offered through the lens of public choice economics. Indeed, Jewish liberalism demonstrates a political anomaly that can be explained through the framework of voter incentives. Before explaining the impact of pro-Israel policy on Jewish voting, it is necessary to identify some additional factors that evidence how Jewish voting behavior remains a political anomaly. American Jews, despite job and social discrimination, have become the highest per capita income of any religious group in the United States (Wright, Ethnic Group Pressures in Foreign Policy, 1982, 1655-1660). While affluence in America generally tends to correlate with Republican affiliation, this trend does not hold true for American Jews (Cohen, American Jewish Liberalism, 405-430). Steven Cohen and Charles Liebman, in their research, also noted that more religious Jews tend to be less liberal, inclining religious Jews toward conservatism. They identify only a few issues on which Jews assert themselves as decidedly liberal: political identity as liberal, church-state separation, social codes, and domestic spending. Cohen and Liebman’s research illustrated that aside from pro-Israel policies, Jews have additional incentives to shift to the Republican party, yet they have remained consistently Democratic. On the other hand, Jews have higher education levels, which correlate with liberalism, compared to the general populace provides a common explanation of Jewish liberalism. Thus, while Jews demonstrate anomalous behavior, they also demonstrate typical associations that explain Jewish liberalism. While many incentives influence Jewish political behavior, a single-issue factor that unites Jews remains the support of Israel from the United States government. Professor Lawrence Fuchs defined American Jews as an “ethno-religious group,” which forms attitudes on social and political policy that align group interests with national interests (Fuchs, The Political Behavior of American Jews, 1980). American Jews, as “partisans of Israel,” were thus instrumental in having the United States recognize the state of Israel (Fuchs, 1980). As Professor Steven Bayme noted, the pro-Israel consensus in the American Jewish community has been maintained remarkably well over the past sixty plus years, with the two primary oppositional sources, classical Reform and Satmar Hasidism, remaining largely uninfluential (Bayme, American Jewry and the State of Israel, 2008). To court the Jewish vote, Democrats and Republicans have functioned as “entrepreneurs selling policies for votes” — the policy, in this case, being bilateral economic assistance for Israel (Downs, An Economic Theory of Political Action in a Democracy, 1957). If we assume that American Jewish citizens behave as expected utility maximizers, Jewish voters gain extra expected utility from electing the more pro-Israel candidate, aligning with the Jewish voters’ preference for a pro-Israel public good. The gain to the Jewish voter would be defined as the preferred more pro-Israel candidate (Ferejohn & Fiorina, The Paradox of not Voting, 1974). Indeed, due to American Jewish attachment to Israel, there is a rational reason to vote; by voting for a more pro-Israel candidate in the political market, the Jewish voter ensures a higher quality public good that suits the Jewish voter’s preference for a more robust pro-Israel political platform. An initial investigation must depict the nature of the collective good thus described. As the natural monopoly on tax spending and military power, the government provides public goods to citizens. The United States government, having such a monopoly, becomes the sole provider of military and economic support to Israel for American citizens. Israel first received U.S. government assistance in the form of a $100 million loan from the Export-Import Bank in 1949 and aid remained modest for the next two decades (Sharp, Federation of American Scientists, 2016). After several consecutive Arab-Israeli wars, US aid to Israel increased dramatically, with Israel becoming the largest recipient of US aid in 1974. Middle East Specialist Jeremy Sharp reported that Israel is the largest cumulative recipient of US aid since World War II, receiving $124 billion of bilateral assistance in non-inflation adjusted terms (2016). An additional State Department directive this year has pledged $38 billion over the next ten years to Israel. The majority of this assistance has come in the form of Military aid, which has led to a qualitative military edge for the Israeli military, developing anti-rocket technologies such as the Iron Dome, Arrow I and II, and David’s Sling. The United States has also provided economic aid to Israel in the form of emergency aid packages during times of recession. Aid from the United States has thus allowed Israel to transition from a fledgling nation-state to a modern industrialized nation. (Sharp, Federation of American Scientists, 2016). While the United States government is not the sole supplier of aid to Israel, it functions as a monopoly within the US political market as a government supplier of aid. Jewish voters thus form preferences and expected utility functions based upon the differing levels of aid provided by the US government, a monopolistic supplier. To further analyze the impact of US foreign policy toward Israel on Jewish voting patterns, it is necessary to examine the historical political alignment of Jews, from Jeffersonian Republicans to Democrats to Republicans, prior to the establishment of Israel as a Jewish state. While Jewish political equality did not emerge directly out of the American revolution, Jews achieved political equality in the five states they were most numerous in, and the growing movement in revolutionary America for the separation of church and state worked to the Jewish community’s advantage (Fuchs, 1980, p. 24). The first instance of Jewish political alignment began with a Jewish attachment to the Jeffersonian Republicans; in the 1830s, Jackson and the new Democratic party gained the Jewish devotion Jefferson and Madison had maintained (Fuchs, 1980, p. 29). By 1840, a large majority of American Jewry, around 15,000 at the time, joined Martin Van Buren’s coalition, buoyed by Van Buren’s protection of Jews in Egypt (Fuchs, 1980, p. 30). With the immigration of as many as 100,000 German Jews to the United States between 1848 and the beginning of the Civil War, Jewish political alignment shifted, splitting support between Democrats and the Whigs (Fuchs, 1980, p. 33). By 1860, Jews in the North, particularly German-Jews, welcomed the new Republican Party, as many Rabbis and Jews opposed slavery (Fuchs, 1980, p. 35). In the four decades after the Civil War, Jews were widely divided with a slight major party preference for the Republican Party (Fuchs, 1980, p. 50). With the exception of Woodrow Wilson’s Jewish majority in 1916, Jews continued to lean Republican in presidential elections from 1900 to 1928 even with an influx of nearly two million Jewish immigrants fleeing anti-Semitism and poverty in Europe (Fuchs, 1980, p. 51). However, the 1920s showed a growing trend of Jewish support for the Democratic party, more rapid in certain cities but generally solidified by the Jewish commitment to Franklin Roosevelt in 1932 (Fuchs, 1980, p. 71). For example, in Boston’s Ward 14, a heavily Jewish area, 78 percent of enrolled voters were Republican in 1928, while only 14 percent of voters were Republican in 1952 (Fuchs, 1980, p. 72). The proportion of Jews who voted for the Democratic Party peaked at 90 percent for FDR in the 1940s (Rebhun, 2016, p. 141). To maintain Jewish support, the Democratic Party committed itself to fighting fascist anti-Semitism in Europe and to ensuring the military and economic security of the State of Israel (Schnall, 1987, p. 77). In all Presidential elections since 1932, 60 to 90 percent of American Jews voted for the Democratic candidate. (Rebhun, 2016, p. 141). While Jewish-American Democratic support has been in decline since the late 1960s, the Jewish vote has remained solidly within the Democratic camp (Rebhun, 2016, p. 143). Additionally, the Jewish vote declined in Republican support between 1980 and 2000 but has since risen from 2000 to 2016 (Kent, 2016). As evidenced by the above historical charting of Jewish political alignment, the Jewish community has shifted in partisan alignment multiple times in American history. Why then have Jews maintained their allegiance to the Democratic Party since 1932? While many factors are involved in addressing this question, a key factor absent in other eras of American history is the establishment of Israel in 1948 and the consequent United States’ support of Israel. The median voter theorem becomes especially relevant in addressing the Jewish-Democratic alliance. Anthony Downs observed that voters can cut the cost of information by comparing ideologies rather than policies — the lack of information thus engendering a demand for ideologies in the electorate (1957, p. 142). Downs reasons that stable government in a two-party democracy requires a distribution of voters approximating a normal curve in which both parties resemble each other closely (1957, p. 143). In terms of US-Israeli foreign policy, Democrats and Republicans resemble each other closely in that they have both maintained military and economic aid for Israel. According to the Median Voter Theorem, with both parties exhibiting similar ideologies of a pro-Israel consensus, one would expect the distribution to resemble a normal curve, but this has not been the case. Surprisingly, Democratic and Republican Israeli policy has had more in common than not; yet, a normal curve does not represent the Jewish vote. In the election of 1948, both party candidates were committed to Zionism, with both parties adopting pro-Israel positions in their national platforms (Fuchs, 1980, p. 81). Truman’s election allowed the Democratic party to yield pro-Israel results, beginning with Truman’s recognition of Israel, the $100 million loan from the Export-Import Bank in 1949, and the Tripartite Declaration of 1950 (Sharp, 2016, p. 36). Lawrence Fuchs identified 1952 as a key moment in the political market for the Jewish vote, in which despite being as “well paid, fed, and educated as the most successful Republican denomination groups” Jews continued to vote for Democrats (1980, p. 99). Eisenhower’s term, however, allowed for product differentiation in the political market; Jews could now compare the quality of the collective good provided by the United States government, economic and political aid to Israel, under two different political parties. Indeed, while several factors, as Lawrence Fuchs noted, contributed to Jewish loyalty to the Democratic party, the Eisenhower Administration's policy toward Israel hurt Republican chances with Jewish voters; Zionist rallies were held in October of 1954 protesting the Eisenhower Administration’s policy towards Israel (Fuchs, 1980, p. 117). Fuchs indicated that Zionist leaders criticized the Eisenhower Administration's decision to ship arms to “feudal Arab leaders” while holding back on Israeli military aid (Fuchs, 1980, p. 117). The Suez Canal, in which the United States strengthened its bond with Egypt and forced military Israeli withdrawal, provided another demonstration of Eisenhower’s lukewarm position toward Israel (“Suez Crisis, 1956,” n.d.). Weak Republican support for Israel did not shift Jewish political alignment to its benefit; American Jews thus exhibited a lopsided preference for Democratic US-Israeli policy during the 1960 election of John F. Kennedy, with around 80 percent voting for Kennedy and 18 percent voting for Nixon — a major shift from the 1956 election in which 60 percent voted for Stevenson while 40 percent voted for Eisenhower (Weisberg, 2012, p. 217). Post-1948, several Republican administrations have seen fluctuations in their capturing of the Jewish vote. Professor Theodore Wright, writing in 1982, noted that in recent years Republicans had sought to “outbid the Democrats” in their promises to the Zionist state. Indeed, the election of Ronald Reagan demonstrated a partisan shift in the political market in reaction to the Israel policies of the Democratic Carter Administration. Professor Weisberg cited data showing that many Jews felt Carter was too hard on Israel and consequently 39 percent voted for Reagan and 45 percent voted for Carter (Weisberg, 2012, p. 228). This represented a major shift in the partisan distribution of Jewish voters, nearly approaching Downs’s normal distribution curve. However, despite Reagan’s policies being more pro-Israel than Carter’s, the Democratic party regained the Jewish vote in the 1984 presidential election, with 67 percent voting for Walter Mondale and 31 percent voting for Ronald Reagan (Weisberg, 2012, p. 228). Professor Weisberg notes that while Republicans saw a boost in their attainment of the Jewish vote in the 1970s and 1980s, it was followed by subsequent loss of the Jewish vote in the 1990s and 2000s (Weisberg, 2012, 232). However, another interesting data point occurred in 2012. The highly-publicized testiness of Obama’s relationship with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and “dissatisfaction with Obama’s Middle East policy” during his first term boosted the Jewish Republican vote by 9 percentage points, from 21 percent for McCain to 30 percent for Romney (Rebhun, 2016, p. 144). The Republican resurgence was squashed in the 2016 election, falling to 24 percent for Trump despite visible strain in the Obama-era US-Israeli diplomatic relations. These various historical examples indicate that shifts in the partisan alignment of the Jewish vote occur in accordance with a greater expected utility of Republican Israeli policy after a strain in Democratic-Israel relations. Nonetheless, while Jewish voters demonstrate small shifts in political alignment, they often return to a high percentage of votes for the Democratic presidential candidate. This is a noteworthy behavior; if Republicans have proven to Jewish voters that they can successfully compete with Democrats with their pro-Israel policies, why have more Jews not shifted to the Republican party? Arye Hillman accounted for such a phenomenon by considering the expressive-voting hypothesis, which posits that certain people vote “to obtain the expressive utility from confirming identity” to themselves or a group rather than to decisively sway an election (2011, p. 250). Because American Jews have historically aligned with the Democratic Party, Hillman assumed that Jews, with exceptions, rationally vote for Democrats, though it is against their self-interest, in order to gain the expressive utility associated with expressing group identity (2011, p. 256). Hillman offered a variety of historical examples from Podhoretz’s book Why Are Jews Liberals?. In the 1960’s election, he noted that Kennedy’s father was openly anti-semitic, yet Kennedy secured 82% of the Jewish vote (Hillman, 2011, p. 254). In 1972, he cited that the Democrat McGovern received two-thirds of the Jewish vote despite McGovern favoring racially-based quotas in education that would have been disadvantageous to Jews and be inimical to the state of Israel (Hillman, 2011, p. 254). Additionally, in 2008, 78 percent of Jews voted for Obama despite Obama having “anti-Israel associations” and a record that showed less concern for Israel than his Republican opponent (Hillman, 2011, p. 255). There are obviously limits to how much Jewish identity impacts voting decision and how much Jewish identity is tied to Israel. However, despite its assumptions about Jewish identity, Hillman’s evidence provides a theoretically relevant public choice explanation of why Jews may rationally vote for Democrats despite competitive pro-Israel policies from the Republican Party. Rather than functioning as a singular issue which ultimately sways the Jewish voter, the Jewish preference for a robust pro-Israel policy represents a unique and influential indicator within the multifaceted preferences of the Jewish voter. By examining historical presidential voting data, specific instances when Jewish voters could have voted according to a pro-Israel preference based upon the partisan performance of the previous administration can be identified. While this analysis has been largely driven by market outcomes – Jews evaluating their voting decisions based off of the Israeli policy of the current administration – it highlights the impact of information on voting patterns. If a Jewish voter is provided with more information, via four years of governance by a certain party, about the perceived ideology of either political party, they will adjust their preferences according to this new information. While Downs notes there are costs to acquiring such information, the marginal return, or the increase in utility from making an improved decision concerning partisan Israeli-relations ideology, would presumably exceed the marginal cost of acquiring such information for Jewish voters who decide to vote. However, while it is important to analyze the behavior of Jews as an ethnic group, there exist differences within the Jewish community which should also be examined. Laurence Kotler-Berkowitz and Lawrence Sternberg researched the influence of the centralized institutions of the American Jewish community on political cohesion and division amongst Jews (2000, p. 23). The researchers amalgamated data proving that the political activists within major Jewish institutions in the United States, such as the Jewish Community Relations Council and the organized Federation system, display differences in measures of ideology, partisanship, political and social attitudes, and policy preferences than most synagogue members and donors and are decisively more liberal (2000, p. 40). Their research demonstrated that the participants in the most centralized set of Jewish institutions display political preferences “within a fairly narrow range, denoting political cohesion” (2000, p. 44). Kotler-Berkowitz and Sternberg’s research also showed that while Jews tend to lean liberal, the degree of cohesion within the American Jewish community should not be assumed to be absolute. For example, political division among American Jews, despite the overall liberalism of Jewish institutions, allows for the opportunity of Republican competition in the markets, specifically in the more traditional Jewish communities. Republicans have particularly thrived among Orthodox Jews, who are the most Republican in their voting (Weisberg, 2012, p. 225). Eytan Gilboa traced the historical arc of Jewish support for Israel and the complicated relationship between Jews and specific Israeli policy preferences. Beginning in 1948, he notes that 90 percent of American Jews supported the establishment of Israel and the decision of President Truman to recognize the State of Israel (Gilboa, 1986, p. 113). According to public surveys from 1957 to 1983, Jews remained highly favorable toward Israel, with all but one of the pro-Israel results ranking above 90 percent (Gilboa, 1986, p. 113). Gilboa’s research also notes that all surveys of American Jews in his research show overwhelming support for US aid to Israel — around 91 to 96 percent from 1971 to 1985 (Gilboa, 1986, p. 117). However, Gilboa also investigated public opinion surveys that show a less unified American Jewish community from 1967 to 1982 concerning positions and policies in the Arab-Israeli conflict (Gilboa, 1986, p. 121). Surveys between 1980 and 1984 further evidence a split Jewish opinion on the question of a Palestinian state (Gilboa, 1986, p. 123). The conclusion of Gilboa’s paper highlights the remarkable stability of Jewish support for economic and military aid for Israel despite diverging foreign policy positions of American Jewry. Gilboa’s data and conclusions highlight an interesting complication of the Jewish political market; American Jews, while supporting aid, may not uniformly support the same policy results. The complex interactions between Zionism, ethno-religious political behavior, and political support for Israel highlights the lack of information politicians acquire about the Jewish community and also provides evidence of why US aid for Israel has been sustained for so long. An additional complication is that the Jewish voting is not the only group incentivizing pro-Israel policy. In fact, since 1989, Israel’s favorability among general Americans has vacillated between 45 percent and 79 percent (Saad, 2016). Republicans have additional political incentives to support Israel that may influence the Jewish vote. Evangelical Christians, who number about 75 million in the United States, have become “increasingly mobilized” in support of Israel (Waxman, 2010, p. 15). Since the Second Intifada, which began in 2000, the Christian Right has become increasingly influential in the Republican political market. According to Professor Murray Friedman, the Christian Right, while showing strong support for Israel, disincentivized Jews from joining the Republican party out of fear that the Christian Right has become “too influential” in the GOP (2003, p. 436). The influence of the Christian Right on Republican foreign policy highlights that while Republicans compete with Democrats for the Jewish vote with pro-Israel policy, they also compete for the vote of the Christian Right through pro-Israel policy. Additionally, the bedrock of evangelical support for Israel has shifted incentives for Jews to vote as single-issue voters; support for Israel remains ensured for by the prominent support for pro-Israel candidates on the Right vying for the support of evangelists, allowing Jewish voters flexibility to vote for Democrats who may not be as pro-Israel as the Republican candidate. In recognizing that pro-Israel policy has not yielded strong Jewish electoral results, Republicans have continued to maintain pro-Israel policy because the Christian Right has incentivized them to do so. Thus, while the political market for the Jewish vote remains influenced by a multitude of factors, the widespread preference among Jewish voters for a pro-Israel collective good shifts incentives in the political market. How Jews collectively vote remains complex, and the historical Jewish alignment with the Democratic Party despite competitive pro-Israel policy from the Republican Party highlights this complexity. It seems likely that two trends will continue based on the political incentive structures described in this paper: Jews will continue to predominantly align with the Democratic Party and both Democrats and Republicans will continue to offer competitive pro-Israel ideologies. The public choice approach to Jewish political behavior thus offers insight into why these trends continue by examining the incentives that shape how Jews vote and how politicians respond in turn. References Aldrich, J. H. Rational choice and turnout. American Journal of political science, 1993: 246-278. Bayme, S. AMERICAN JEWRY AND THE STATE OF ISRAEL: HOW INTENSE THE BONDS OF PEOPLEHOOD? Jewish Political Studies Review, 20(1/2), 2008: 7-21. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/25834774 Baker, P. For Obama and Netanyahu, a Final Clash After Years of Conflict. 2016. Retrieved April 02, 2017, from https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/23/world/middleeast/israel-benjamin-netanyahu-barack-obama.html Cohen, S., & Liebman, C. American Jewish Liberalism: Unraveling the Strands. The Public Opinion Quarterly, 61(3), 1997: 405-430. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/2749579 Downs, A. An Economic Theory of Political Action in a Democracy. Journal of Political Economy, 65(2), 1957: 135-150. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/1827369 Ferejohn, J. A., & Fiorina, M. P. The paradox of not voting: A decision theoretic analysis. American political science review, 68(02), 1974: 525-536. Fuchs, L. H. The Political Behavior of American Jews. Westport, CT: 1970. Greenwood Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4371453 FRIEDMAN, M. The Changing Jewish Political Profile. American Jewish History, 91(3/4), 2003. 423-438. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23887289 Gilboa, E. Attitudes of American Jews Toward Israel: Trends Over Time. The American Jewish Year Book, 86, 1986: 110-125. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23604779 Hillman, A. Expressive voting and identity: Evidence from a case study of a group of U.S. voters. Public Choice,148(1/2), 2011: 249-257. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/41483691 Kent, D. Presidential vote by religious affiliation and race. 2016. Retrieved March 28, 2017, from http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2016/11/09/how-the-faithful-voted-a- preliminary-2016-analysis/ft_16-11-09_relig_exitpoll_religrace/ Kotler-Berkowitz, L., & Sternberg, L. THE POLITICS OF AMERICAN JEWS: COHESION, DIVISION, AND REPRESENTATION AT THE INSTITUTIONAL LEVEL. Jewish Political Studies Review, 12(1/2), 2000: 21-54. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/25834469 REBHUN, U. POLITICAL ORIENTATION. In Jews and the American Religious Landscape (pp. 134-164). 2016. New York: Columbia University Press. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.7312/rebh17826.9 Saad, L. Americans' Views Toward Israel Remain Firmly Positive. 2016. Retrieved April 06, 2017, from http://www.gallup.com/poll/189626/americans-views-toward-israel-remain-firmly-positive.aspx Schnall, D. REPUBLICANS, DEMOCRATS AND AMERICAN JEWS. Tradition: A Journal of Orthodox Jewish Thought, 22(4), 1987: 75-87. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23259491 Sharp, J. M. Federation of American Scientists [Scholarly project]. 2016. Retrieved March 20, 2017, from https://fas.org/sgp/crs/mideast/RL33222.pdF Suez Crisis, 1956. (n.d.). Retrieved March 30, 2017, from https://2001-2009.state.gov/r/pa/ho/time/lw/97179.htm U.S. Recognition of the State of Israel. (n.d.). Retrieved March 20, 2017, from https://www.archives.gov/education/lessons/us-israel Waxman, D. The Israel Lobbies: A Survey of the Pro-Israel Community in the United States. Israel Studies Forum,25(1), 2010: 5-28. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/41805051 Weisberg, H. Reconsidering Jewish Presidential Voting Statistics. Contemporary Jewry,32(3), 2012: 215-236. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/43549743 Wright, T. Ethnic Group Pressures in Foreign Policy: Indian Muslims and American Jews. Economic and Political Weekly, 17(41), 1983: 1655-1660. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/4371453

We the Prisoners Considering the Anti Drug Act of 1986, the War on Drugs and Mass Incarceration in the United States Sophia Scaglioni Boston University April 2021 Introduction America was founded upon the notions of equality of opportunity, success through perseverance, and the idea that anyone, if they are hard-working and driven, can ascend socially and economically. Currently, however, the United States finds itself diametrically opposed to these ideas. The prison system in the United States contradicts rights guaranteed in the Constitution along with the promise of social mobility and the American Dream. “Mass incarceration” is a phrase frequently thrown about the political arena. These two words, however, represent 2.3 million American citizens who are in jail or prison today. To contextualize the gravity of this statistic, consider this: while the US has about 5% of the world’s population, it has about 25% of the world’s prison population. The majority of the victims of mass incarceration are Black and Latino men, who, despite having been promised equal protection under the law and a right to life and liberty, find themselves trapped in a system marked by racial disparity. One out of every three black boys and one out of every six Latino boys born today will go to prison at some point in their life while white boys born today have a 1/17 chance to go to prison in their lives. Despite being subjected, on average, to lower living standards in terms of housing and schooling, minority men are held to higher standards in the criminal justice system. While African Americans and whites report using drugs at similar rates, there are six times more Black men serving time for drug possession charges. The United States, a country founded on the notion of opportunity, get to these gruesomely imbalanced statistics through a series of public policy decisions. The minorities who make up these statistics have been disproportionately targeted by one of the Reagan administration’s keystone programs: the War on Drugs. While the policy battle against drugs was certainly started during the Nixon years and Nixon’s policies certainly influenced the oppression of minorities, the most detrimental and consequential laws of the War on Drugs were enacted during the years of the next administration. The Reagan White House, which controlled the executive branch during the 1980s, pushed policies that attacked drug possession and use with stringent criminal punishment. The administration was able to do this by stimulating public support for the War on Drugs; this mobilized Congress to act. The public angst the White House strived to create was based on largely ungrounded facts meant to instill fear in the general public. Impacts of policies implemented through this formula of fear mongering are felt today in the form of racial disparities in the American Criminal Justice System and the institution of mass incarceration. The Anti-Drug Act of 1986 imposed mandatory minimum sentences on the possession and distribution of certain drugs, allocated $2 billion to the crusade against drugs, involved the military in narcotic control, allowed for the death penalty for certain-drug related crimes and bolstered the authority of law enforcement. This policy was only strengthened in the coming years, and parts of this legislation remain in place today. Going to prison in America as a minority male, even when the crime is minor, constitutes a figurative life sentence due to the punitive nature of the Criminal Justice system, which taints a permanent record, complicates employment, ruptures family units and removes voting clout for prisoners. One of the most detrimental legacies of the War on Drugs, however, is the ostracization of former prisoners by American society. The institution of mass-incarceration is the outcome of policies like The Anti-Drug Act of 1986; this paper will analyze how this policy was born, implemented and how its hateful roots permeate the American society today. The legacy of The War on Drugs today is seen in the racial-biases in every step of the American criminal justice system: from investigation to sentencing to serving time. The shameful condition of American Criminal Justice doesn’t need to exist. Hundreds of thousands of people do not need to be imprisoned for minor charges, namely drug possession. In fact, this essay will argue, the American conscience cannot be clear so long as the institution of mass incarceration and its suffocating consequences are allowed to continue. The pillars and promises of our democracy must be restored and the way to do this is found in Portugal. Portugal’s drug legislation took a completely opposite perspective than the United States’ did when faced with a similar drug crisis; this essay will try to answer why that is the case. On July 1st, 2001 the country chose to “decriminalize the use and possession of all illicit drugs” and has since successfully reduced “problematic use, drug-related harms, and criminal justice overcrowding.” The values promulgated by this public policy emphasize recovery, safety and above all else, human dignity. By passing similar legislation, America would ameliorate the shameful condition of our discriminatory prison system and thus hold true to the roots and morals it was founded upon and has now seemingly forgotten. The United States’ current social, economic, and political climate makes the passing of such legislation unlikely. The institutional and cultural factors which influenced the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 (and their contribution to mass incarceration in the United States), compared to the same institutional or cultural factor when applied to Portugal, makes American unwillingness to rectify its broken criminal justice system evident. Ultimately, this reflects a very deep inconsistency between the notions American was founded upon and the values its government actually promulgates. The vantage points through which this essay will consider the opposite policy reactions of the United States and Portugal to drug use and possession are (1) Party Systems, (2) Welfare States, and (3) the role of religion in politics in America and Portugal. This essay will compare America and Portugal within the scope of three lenses: party systems, welfare systems and religious foundations. The vantage points will reveal Portugal’s proportional representation system is more responsive than the American two-party system; its universal health-care system has stronger infrastructure with which to implement a widespread drug policy; the common Catholic faith brings communities together and unifies public opinion. These factors combine clearly when considering the policy decision Portugal implemented in June 2001. A morally-unified public saw a clear issue in the rise of heroin use and asked their coalition-style government for a solution. Legislators turned to and trusted technical expertise to find a creative solution: decriminalization of drug possession and use. The country’s National Health Service was readily prepared and built on pre-existing welfare infrastructure, to implement the policy’s prevention and recovery programs. Once implemented, the public supported it fully. Now, drugs have ceased to be a controversial issue in Portugal and any mention of returning to a War on Drugs style approach is shot down. Party Systems Literature Review Two common forms of party system structures are a proportional representation system and a two-party system. The names are rather self-explanatory: a proportional representation system awards political parties seats in a country’s representative body in proportion to how many votes they receive, while a two-party system has two dominant groups in a representative body. Historically, proportional representation systems are superior to the two-party system when it comes to creating credible commitments because, since more than two ideologies are represented in the legislature, creating a majority coalition requires compromise. The negotiation and communication this requires fosters trust and understanding that bypasses the pettiness often seen in two-party systems. A multiparty system suggests that the negotiation and deal-making involved in the country’s policy decisions are collaborative, balanced, and focused on long-term gains. Conversely, in a winner-take-all two-party system, a lack of openness and communication is expected, and policy is likely to be directed towards short-term gains. The United States’ government fits the mold of a winner-take-all two-party system; the polarizing, negotiation-adverse effects of the system are felt in the Anti-Drug Act of 1986. To understand the negotiation-adverse climate which the 100th Congress faced, circumstances of the political climate must be considered. Firstly, the House and Senate were divided: the House was controlled by Democrats and the Senate by Republicans. Divided government is a common feature of two-party systems which can obstruct meaningful cooperation. According to scholars, when two conflicting ideologies must cooperate it is much harder to reach win-win outcomes than if the negotiators held similar views. The state of the American Congress in 1986 was characterized by divided and increasingly competitive split party control. This made the starting point for negotiation on drug-policy already compromised. Further research on negotiation tells us that the entirety of the policy-making process is hampered by the two-party system, not just its starting point. Studies modeling two-party negotiations found that time pressures and power-projections are crucial in negotiation outcomes—especially when parties are already ideologically opposed. More time and a lack of feeling the need to establish dominance leads to more effective discussions due to a lessened sense of pressure. These factors impacted the internal negotiation climate of the American Congress in 1986. There was an intense pressure from both the executive branch and the public on the already-divided Congress for pivotal drug legislation. These two pressures largely worked hand in hand. Recall the formula of fear mongering used by the Reagan administration mentioned earlier, best exemplified by the executive decision to hire staff specifically to publicize the use of crack cocaine in inner-cities. This spurred intense media coverage, creating pressure from an anxious public for Congressional action. This combines with the final, most crucial circumstance impacting the 100th Congress and the Anti-Drug Act of 1986: 1986 was a midterm election year. Therefore, when the divided, two-party Congress sat down in September to discuss drug policy, they were influenced by both time-pressure from November midterms and power-pressure from the desire to project efficacy and strength to voters right before elections. A lack of meaningful discussion aimed at a long-term solution ensued. Both Republicans in the Senate and Democrats in the House tried to create the most severe laws to acquiesce public nervousness, prioritizing power-projections over a constructive drug policy. Both Republicans and Democrats were blinded by hopes of re-election and failed to act in a long-term-oriented, collaborative manner. This directly stems from a divided two-party system, which creates a hostile and negotiation-adverse starting point only worsened in 1986 by time and power pressures. Welfare State Literature Review The design of a country’s social protection system is a fundamental factor to consider when assessing a drug policy such as the Anti-Drug Act of 1986. A country’s welfare state has a variety of characteristics to be considered. For example: whether a country implements universal coverage healthcare or chooses to implement a means-tested coverage system or whether healthcare is funded through public taxes, payroll contributions or private funding. The Anti-Drug Act of 1986 is nearly 200 pages long and has 21 sections devoted to anti-drug policy measures. Of these sections, several appropriate resources to criminal law enforcement and outline explicit punishments for the use and possession of drugs. The words “penalty” and “enforcement” are included in almost every section title. What words are missing, however, are terms such as “health”, “prevention” and “recovery”. If dangerous drugs were really sweeping the nation in ways so horrendous the Reagan administration claimed merited a crusade as aggressive as the War on Drugs, then where is the mention of recovery and prevention techniques? There is no mention of implementing healthcare programs to assist those suffering from drug abuse in the list of the 21 sections devoted to anti-drug policy measures. None of these sections emphasize the importance of recovery treatment. To find mentions of such programs, one must delve deep into the document, past authorization for the death penalty for certain drug offenses or the use of illegally obtained evidence in drug trials. Only in the most obscured corners of this legislation is minimal policy for prevention found. It calls for a board to come together thrice annually to assess how drug abuse prevention measures are doing at a national and state level, as well as for an increase in drug education programs in public schools. Although the amount of spending allocated for this is unclear, while the $2 billion allocated to increasing policing is concrete. Prevention and recovery are not emphasized in the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 and this may be partly due to the American welfare state which is characterized by high private social spending supported by government tax subsidies for the upper and upper-middle classes. Also, there are hardly any large public social programs that benefit all United States citizens nationally. Instead, America uses means-tested social assistance programs for poor people and social insurance programs (Social Security) for the middle-class, while the richest members of society rely on private healthcare programs. This divided structure existed when the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 was implemented, the same time as America was suffering from an alleged crack-cocaine crisis. Whether or not this is actually true has been heavily disputed: research suggests the crack-epidemic that conservative figureheads preached about was nonexistent, that drug use in urban neighborhoods was actually declining. Regardless of how real the crack-crisis actually was, the intention of the American government was clearly not to aid its alleged victims in recovery, but rather target urban populations. There was little to no mention of a national health strategy to combat the alleged issue. Perhaps (and very concerning morally) this is because those promoting the policy knew the crack-cocaine crisis was fabricated. However, it is possible that the reason the focus was not on treatment but increased criminal sentencing was due to the divided and privatized healthcare system which provided no clear roadmap or infrastructure for a national drug strategy to combat the (supposed) drug epidemic. Role of Religion Literature Review While surprisingly little research has been done on how religion factored into the War on Drugs, it can be said with confidence that religion acts as a polarizing force in American politics when certain religious groups align themselves with political ideologies. That holds true when considering American drug policy during the 1980s: President Reagan was supported fervently by conservative religious groups of evangelical Christians trying to return America to “traditional values”. This alliance between conservative Christians and the Republican party became known as the Moral Majority, a political group which mobilized Christian voters who felt as though they had been overlooked by their government during the years of the 1960s and 1970s; the War on Drugs was popular among these voters and they became one of Ronald Reagan’s most dependable coalitions. The years that the Moral Majority claimed the government ignored their voices overlap, of course, were the years of the Civil Rights Movement. Many members of the Christian Right overlap with another constituency of Reagan’s: whites who resented civil rights progress such as affirmative action. Research found that racial attitudes were a key determinant of white support to “get tough on crime” and the people most likely to support criminal-punitiveness were rural, conservative whites. The people that constitute this demographic also comprise those most dedicated to the Moral Majority: evangelical Christians. It was none other than this religious coalition which, feeling threatened and overlooked by years of Civil Rights progress, saw the War on Drugs as an opportunity to halt racial reform without seeming explicitly racist. There was notable support from the Christian Right for the Anti-Drug Act of 1986. Party Systems Case Study The United States’ Party System is a winner-take-all two-party system. In stark contrast, Portugal’s government is a multiparty, proportional representation system. Recall that multiparty systems suggest collaborative, balanced, and long-term-oriented negotiation, while a winner-take-all two-party system is likely to lack openness, communication and long-term foresight. These expectations are completely met when comparing the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 and the 2001 Portuguese decriminalization policy. While the United States met its (alleged) drug crisis with a criminal offensive campaign, Portugal reacted to its similar drug crisis with a strategy that vowed to reintegrate drug-users into society; a strategy based on recovery, not revenge. Analyzing party systems shows why the countries moved in such different directions. The heroin crisis that struck Portugal from 1980-2000 saw the highest rate of HIV infection in the entire European Union plaguing the relatively small country. During the two decades prior to the decriminalization policy, the Portuguese government responded to the epidemic by implementing harsh policies administered by the criminal justice system. Conservative politicians who boisterously condemned drug use supported this approach despite its failure to produce results. The heroin crisis was escalating quickly and the coalition government (The Council of Ministers, Portugal’s Parliament) saw the need for innovative policy—and the need to act fast. Proportional-representation governments are known to use deliberative negotiation tactics (like relying on third-party expertise) to form creative credible commitments. In keeping with this standard, Portugal relied heavily on technical expertise in creating their decriminalization policy. A panel of experts (called The Commission for a National Drug Strategy) was assembled to analyze the efficacy of the American-inspired, criminally punitive approach Portugal was using to combat its heroin crisis. The panel stated the War-on Drugs-style approach was “squandering resources” and advised for a revolutionary new tactic. They suggested converting drug use and possession to an administrative offense, rather than a criminal one. The goal was to regard drug users as full members of society rather than outcasts and criminals. The Council of Ministers accepted almost the entirety of the expert report in October 2000 and has since seen a reduced burden on its criminal justice system, increased uptake of drug treatment, fewer deaths and diseases related to opioids and a reduction in retail prices of drugs. While the United States suffered a crack-cocaine crisis (or so the Reagan administration wanted Americans to believe) in the 1980s which directly paralleled Portugal's heroin crisis, there was little to no use of strategies like reliance on technical expertise to find a solution in Congress. Rather, the hyper-competitive, negotiation-adverse two-party system of the United States Congress went straight for power-projecting, shortsighted policies like the Anti-Drug Act of 1986, which drastically increased drug arrests, thus ostracizing thousands of Americans into the punitive criminal justice system. The harsh system created by the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 manifests itself today in the mass-incarceration of ethnic minorities. The permanence of this system is the divisive nature of our two-party system which did not end with the Reagan years. Up until very recently, no actor in the American federal sentencing system, including Congress, the President or the Attorney General, tried to propose innovative legislation to create a real shift in how the United States’ criminal justice system responds to drug use and possession. In fact, even the most significant policy developments have continued to rely upon the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 for federal sentencing structure. The lack of forward-thinking, creative policy in American drug strategy is caused by the divided two-party system which is just as unwilling to unite in the name of long-term collective gains today as it was in the 1980s. When Portugal noticed it had a heroin epidemic, its coalition-style government sought effective action to better its citizen’s health. Simultaneously, Ronald Reagan sought harsh retribution against drug users by targeting black men as criminal offenders over the possession of minor quantities of drugs. Policies from the War on Drugs, like the Anti-Drug Act of 1986, have deprived thousands of people of voting rights and has forced them to live in what some scholars have called an “under-caste” of society”. The United States’ two-party system facilitates the implementation and permanence of policies targeting ethnic minorities for the possession and use of drugs. Welfare State Case Study If the welfare state of a country matters in how drug policy is implemented, a difference is expected between the drug policy of a country with free, universal healthcare and the drug policy of a country with a system like that of the United States (few national programs for all citizens and a division along class lines of where one’s social safety net comes from). Portugal exemplifies the former of these two options: the country’s National Health Service provides free, universal coverage, protecting all citizens regardless of private wealth. For this reason, when the expert panel assessing the drug crisis proposed making drug use a health, rather than a criminal, concern, the Portuguese Council of Ministers was willing to listen. The 2001 decriminalization policy stresses a humane approach to drug abuse by providing resources in the areas of prevention, harm-reduction and treatment programs. The American healthcare system is marked by division between private and public healthcare sources and a lack of universal coverage programs. This resulted in no groundwork for a hypothetical national health strategy when American legislators were considering drug reform in the 1980s (though scholars question if their motivations were genuine enough to consider reform based on healthcare, rather than criminal punitiveness). This juxtaposes Portugal, where the National Health Service had been well-equipped for years to provide universal, free, public-sponsored health coverage and was able to adapt efficiently to the prevention and treatment programs set forth in the 2001 decriminalization policy. João Goulão, the architect of Portugal’s policy, reflected on the conclusions of the expert panel that was obtained to help the government find a long-term, creative solution to the drug issue. “It made much more sense for us to treat drug addicts as patients who needed help, not as criminals,” he said. This leads directly to the chief priority of Portuguese drug strategy: not to allow the marginalization of those using and possessing drugs. In complete antithesis, the marginalization of those using and possessing drugs was, some scholars have argued, the priority of the architects of American drug strategy. This may be partially due to the different welfare states in each country: the American welfare state lacks national unity and thus, promotes individualism while the Portuguese welfare state is quite literally defined by national cohesiveness and inclusivity. Role of Religion Case Study Religion matters when considering policies a country implements because a country with unified religious opinions will see a more broad public consensus over issues while a country where religion acts as a polarizing force will not. The latter of these two options represents the United States, where the Moral Majority supported the War on Drugs despite its racially divisive policies. In what is perhaps the most prominent contrast of this entire paper, Portugal has a public which is incredibly unified religiously. Although Portugal has no official national religion, almost 90% of its population identifies as Roman-Catholic. In keeping with regional trends (with culturally and geographically similar countries like Spain and Italy), regular mass attendance, is on the decline; while devout Catholicism may be fading, the deep-seeded roots of the religion are ingrained both in everyday life and in politics. One of the most important impacts which Catholicism has had on Portuguese society is rendering it rather socially conservative. As the heroin crisis of the 1980s and 1990s escalated, it cut across all classes, impacting those in the highest and lowest echelons of Portuguese society alike. This meant that drug use became unusually visible: from shady street corners to the most fancy of discotheques. This did not bode well with the socially conservative Catholic society and the unified public religion put pressure on public officials to act. Conversely, public religious sentiment in America during the years of the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 were the opposite of unified. Groups of the same religion, such as the Moral Majority and black churches across America, both Christian organizations, failed to see eye-to-eye on drug issues. One group supported the War on Drugs and the other denounced it. The Christian Right’s support for the War on Drugs and the subsequent legacy of mass incarceration it established, shows a fundamental divide between the policy Black Christians desire and what White Evangelicals push for. The lack of unified sentiment from Christians in the United States, both in the 1980s and now, starkly contrasts Portugal where unified religion lead to widespread public support for ethical principles which directly motivated politicians to act. For the thousands of Black and Latino men who face the dark realities of mass-incarceration in the United States, religious-based political arguments and movements have made little headway on aiding their struggles and religion seems to drive parties and their constituencies farther and farther apart on key issues rather than unite and mobilize them. In Portugal, religion unites; in America, it polarizes. Conclusion Fundamental American writings like the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution promise the right to life, liberty and equal protection under the law. It is grim to realize these rights and protections have been unjustly removed for millions of incarcerated citizens. Minorities in America, specifically African American men, have been historically discriminated against, and the United States’ prison system is a continuation of this marginalization, as mass-incarceration locks a large percentage of African Americans out of mainstream economy and society. The shameful condition of the United States’ prison system is a legacy of the War on Drugs and policies like the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 which called for mandatory minimum sentences on the possession of certain drugs and allocated $2 billion to the crusade against drugs. It is still the backbone of federal sentencing guidelines today. Policies like this are why the incarceration rate has skyrocketed since the 1980s despite violent crime rates falling. The persistence of racial-targeting and racial-biases in the American criminal justice system today, including the fact that legislation such as the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 is still referenced, is opposed to the fundamental values upon which America was founded. The right to equal protection under the law, and the right to life and liberty are all desecrated by the institution of mass-incarceration. How did policy like the Anti-Drug Act of 1986 become implemented? It was due to the Reagan White House’s formula of fear mongering: creating public angst over a crack-cocaine crisis (which scholars dispute even existed pre-War on Drugs) to push a punitive criminal agenda. But, if not criminal harshness, what other ways might an industrialized and modern country respond to an increasing drug problem, supposed or real, and protect the rights and liberties of its citizens while doing so? Portugal responded to growing concern over drug use by rejecting a War-on-Drugs-style approach and instead decriminalized drug possession and use. This essay compared America and Portugal within the scope of three lenses: party systems, welfare systems and religious foundations. The vantage points revealed Portugal’s proportional representation system is more responsive than the American two-party system; its universal health-care system has stronger infrastructure with which to implement a widespread drug policy; the common Catholic faith brings communities together and unifies public opinion. These factors combine clearly when considering the policy decision Portugal implemented in June 2001. A morally-unified public saw a clear issue in the rise of heroin use and asked their coalition-style government for a solution. Legislators turned to and trusted technical expertise to find a creative solution: decriminalization of drug possession and use. The country’s National Health Service was readily prepared and built on pre-existing welfare infrastructure, to implement the policy’s prevention and recovery programs. Once implemented, the public supported it fully. Now, drugs have ceased to be a controversial issue in Portugal and any mention of returning to a War on Drugs style approach is shot down. These differences between America and Portugal, revealed by the case studies, are marked by increased responsiveness and morality on the part of the Europeans. This difference is further amplified when considering the country’s similarities: both advanced and well-educated, both industrialized and marked by diversity. If Portugal is able to implement policies which respond to the needs of their citizens, both in terms of health-concerns and political demands, while ensuring human rights are emphasized, why can’t the United States? The observed phenomena emphasizes the United States’ unwillingness to address the flaws of its criminal justice system due to its polarized party-system, divisive welfare-state and religious-infighting. Where the Portuguese Parliament is willing to compromise, the United States Congress chooses to bash negotiation. Where Portuguese healthcare is universal and free, the American welfare state is divisive and lacks coordination. Where Portuguese society is unified socially, American society is only further polarized. All of these lenses show one underlying theme: Portugal values and promotes human dignity while the United States promotes marginalization of its minorities and the polarization of its citizens. It is not America, but rather Portugal which emphasizes the inalienable right to life and liberty and equal protection under the law. While this realization may seem pessimistic, it should be taken constructively. These are, ultimately, American ideals which are being instilled abroad. Before mass incarceration and racial-biases in our prison system can truly end America must do a few things. Some may say these are radical and impossible but rather, they are the only actions in keeping with the country’s founding values. It must strive to increase responsiveness in its party system which currently only provides two diametrically opposed and negotiation-adverse viewpoints. It must attempt to unify a national healthcare strategy to benefit all citizens, regardless of race or wealth. It must remove the use of religion as a political shield during times of policy discussion and use it as a tool for unity instead. Only then, once the American party, healthcare and religious systems are rectified in order to align with this country’s intended values, can the horrors of mass-incarceration be amended. Works Cited Alexander, Michelle. The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. New Press, 2010. Bajekal, Naina. “Want to Win the War on Drugs? Portugal Might Have the Answer.” TIME, 1 Aug. 2018. Balakrishnan, P. V. (Sundar), and Jehoshua Eliashberg. “An Analytical Process Model of Two-Party Negotiations.” Management Science, vol. 41, no. 2, Feb. 1995, pp. 226–243. Berman, Douglas A. “Reflecting on the Latest Drug War Fronts.” Federal Sentencing Reporter, vol. 26, no. 4, Apr. 2014, pp. 213–216. “Criminal Justice Fact Sheet.” NAACP, 2019, www.naacp.org/criminal-justice-fact-sheet/. Hughes, Caitlin Elizabeth, et al. “What Can We Learn From The Portuguese Decriminalization of Illicit Drugs?”, The British Journal of Criminology, Volume 50, Issue 6, November 2010, Pages 999–1022. “Mass Incarceration.” American Civil Liberties Union, 2019, www.aclu.org/issues/smart-justice/mass-incarceration. Peffley, Mark, et al. “Racial Stereotypes and Whites' Political Views of Blacks in the Context of Welfare and Crime.” American Journal of Political Science, vol. 41, no. 1, 1997, p. 30. Roberts, Dorothy E. “The Social and Moral Cost of Mass Incarceration in African American Communities.” Stanford Law Review, vol. 56, no. 5, 2004 Stanford Law Review Symposium: Punishment and Its Purposes, 1 Apr. 2004, pp. 1271–1305. Robinson, Carin. “From Every Tribe and Nation? Blacks and the Christian Right.” Social Science Quarterly, vol. 87, no. 3, 2006, pp. 591–601. JSTOR. Smith, Catherine Delano, and Jose Shercliff. “Portugal: Government and Society.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 2019. United States. Cong. Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986. 99th Cong. Public Law 99-570. Washington: GPO, 1986. Van Het Loo, M., Van Beusekom, I., & Kahan, J. P. (2002). Decriminalization of Drug Use in Portugal: The Development of a Policy. The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 582(1), 49–63. Williams, Daniel K. “Reagan’s Religious Right: The Unlikely Alliance between Southern Evangelicals and a California Conservative.” Ronald Reagan and the 1980s, 2008, pp. 135–149.

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

Travis Harper More Than Just a Thought Crime? A Retributivist View of Hate Crime Legislation Travis Harper Most are familiar with the common conception of a hate crime: a violent act that involves some form of animus towards a particular group, usually a protected class. “Hate crimes” are considered to be more morally reprehensible than their counterparts that are not motivated by any particular animus or hatred. Accordingly, different jurisdictions have enacted legislation criminalizing these types of acts, oftentimes associating them with harsher penalties than crimes committed for other reasons. Still, while hate crimes seem like a simple and intuitive concept, the actual statutes that different legislatures enacted to criminalize them tend to vary in their definitions and application. In the United States, for example, anyone who “willfully causes bodily injury to any person... because of the actual or perceived race, color, religion, or national origin of any person” shall be found guilty of a federal hate crime (1). Germany, however, takes a different approach. While “under German criminal law, ‘politically motivated’ (2) hate crimes do not constitute explicit offenses or give rise automatically to higher sentences,” judges have a wide latitude to take aggravating factors into account when sentencing (3). Germany does , however, have a statute which criminalizes those who “incite hatred against” and “violate the human dignity” of populations or individuals on “account of their belonging to a... national, racial, or religious group or a group defined by their ethnic origin” (4) Clearly, the concept of a hate crime is not as intuitive as it seems to be. Thus, the question remains: What is a “hate crime”? Moral and legal theorists have wrestled with this same question, along with raising other concerns. “Hate crimes” are unique in that their mens rea element, the requisite intent of the perpetrator in order to be found guilty of the crime, typically entails proving some form of hatred or bias. Thus, hate crimes effectively criminalize specific “hateful” mental states. Whether or not a person has committed a hate crime does not depend on their actual physical actions; rather, it depends on their motivations in doing so—whether they did so because of some animus towards their victim or a particular group of people. Naturally, this begs the question: To what extent is this justified? Can we punish offenders for their motivations in committing a crime along with their actions? Heidi Hurd, lawyer and legal theorist, sought to answer questions akin to these in her article, “Why Liberals Should Hate ‘Hate Crime Legislation’.” In doing so, Hurd argues that when “hatred and bias are construed as mens rea elements... they [become] alien to traditional criminal law principles”(5). She also argues that hate crime legislation—at least how it is conceived of today—is unjustifiable. Specifically, Hurd outlines that hate crime legislation has no place within our “act-centered theory of criminal punishment” and “liberal theory of legislation” because of the way it effectively criminalizes “emotional states... [that] constitute standing character traits rather than occurrent mental states (intentions, purposes, choices etc.)” (6). Hurd’s critique is quite comprehensive and forces all advocates for hate crime legislation to ask themselves: is there any justification for hate crime legislation that is in line with a liberal theory of legislation? This is the question that this paper seeks to answer. Through a critical analysis of Hurd’s argument, references to other legal theorists and philosophers, and empirical evidence, I will argue that within a retributivist theory of punishment, hate crime legislation is justifiable and morally accept- able. A retributivist theory of punishment prioritizes proportionality, the principle that the punishment associated with a crime varies based upon the severity of the crime, or how morally reprehensible the crime is, which can be determined by the amount of harm an action causes. I will argue that hate crimes cause more severe harm to the victim than do crimes committed for other reasons. Further, since hate crimes are unique in that they cause harm to both the victim and their community, they constitute both a public and private harm. Thus, not only is it morally acceptable, but rather it is required to make hate crimes distinct within the criminal law with increased punishment compared to crimes that are not committed due to any particular animus. Further, I will argue that hate crime legislation does not merely criminalize mental states or political beliefs; rather it criminalizes the explicit intent to cause increased harm to a specific group of people. This is a standard that any hate crime statute should make abundantly clear. It is worthwhile to clarify what this paper does not seek to address. This paper will not weigh the merits of a retributivist’s conception of punishment against that of a consequentialist; surely, a consequentialist’s justification of hate crime legislation would be vastly different, most likely focusing on the possible benefit that could arise from specifically criminalizing hate crimes. Additionally, the paper will not analyze hate crimes and hate crime legislation from a sociological perspective; rather, it will focus on the moral and philosophical implications that legislators must consider when drafting hate crime legislation. Hurd’s Argument Within her critique of hate crime legislation, Hurd offers two possible arguments in support of making hate crimes distinct within the criminal law, entailing harsh- er punishment. The first of these relies upon a precedent within Anglo-American common law. Specifically, it is not uncommon for those who have “particularly vicious reasons for action” to be more harshly punished (7). For example, some jurisdictions have enhanced punishments for pre-meditated murder, those that deliberately take the life of another. Hurd also highlights the existence of “specific intent crimes,” or “crimes that require defendants to commit prohibited actions with certain further purposes” (8). Burglary, for instance, is an example of a specific intent crime as it requires that someone “must break and enter with some further intention, say to steal, rape, or kill” (9). Hurd posits that neither of these doctrines serve as justifications for hate crime legislation, primarily due to her contention that “hatred” and “bias” are emotional states, not occurrent mental states like intentions. If this is the case, then hate crime legislation is inherently criminalizing mental states, leaving those who support hate crime legislation with two lines of argumentation. Firstly, they might argue that the types of hatred and bias typical to hate crime legislation, contending that, for example, “racial hatred or gender bias is morally worse than greed, jealousy, and revenge” (10), or any other motive for that matter. Secondly, they might further a utilitarian argument, claiming that “hatred and bias are uniquely responsive to criminal sanctions in a way that greed, jealousy and vengeance are not” (11). Both of these arguments, however, violate liberalism in the way that they arbitrarily choose a specific motive to be either considerably more morally reprehensible or responsive to criminal sanctions. I take two main responses to Hurd’s argument. First, I take issue with Hurd’s characterization of hatred and bias when they are construed as mens rea elements; hatred and bias can be considered to be occurrent mental states when they are understood as the intent of the actor to create the increased harms associated with hate crimes, not just the actor’s bigoted views in and of themselves. Second, even if this were the case, and hate crimes did criminalize bigoted views, I argue that considering hatred and bias to be particularly culpable mental states is justified. Hate crimes are considerably more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons because of the aforementioned increased harm they cause, and they deserve increased punishment accordingly. I will address these two concerns separately. Hate Crimes and Specific Intent Crimes One of the key concerns that Hurd addresses is the extent to which hate crime legislation can be drafted within the bounds of liberalism and Anglo-American Common Law. One of Hurd’s main contentions within her article is that hate crime legislation, at least in the way that it is conceived of today, criminalizes emotions or dispositions, as opposed to occurrent mental states. I argue that this is not the case, because of the fact that hate crime legislation does not and should not criminalize the mere fact that a perpetrator holds a specific belief; rather, it should criminalize their intention to cause specific harms to their victim and the victim’s community at large. Michael Moore, in his work The Moral Worth of Retribution, defines “intentions”—within a retributivist theory of punishment—as “function states whose roles are to mediate between background states of motivation and those (bodily) motion-guid- ing states of volition that are parts of actions” (12). Moore illustrates this distinction through the analogy of a person deciding to get their hair cut. The background state of this action is that they “desire to get a haircut,” their intention is the belief that “if [they] go to the barber shop, [they] will get a haircut” and finally, the “motion-guiding state of volition” is that they indeed make the decision in their mind to “go to that barber shop” (13). Thus, the intention that is relevant in regards to criminal liability is one in which the actor decides on a means to reach a specific goal. Applying this framework to hate crimes, the “emotional states’’ that Hurd references are not the intentions that are legally relevant; rather, they are background states of motivations. They are the deep desires of the actor. The intention , however, is the actor’s decision to act upon their bigoted motivations in order to accomplish a variety of goals, whether that be spreading a message, or intimidating members of the group they are targeting. The intention that is legally relevant is that an actor decided to resort to violence in order to spread their bigoted beliefs. Admittedly, most hate crime statutes do not make clear this distinction. Often, they simply mandate that the perpetrator chose their victim “for reason of” one of their specific identities. Thus, any hate crime statute must be clear in that if someone is to be convicted of a hate crime, then they must have intended to cause some specific harm to a particular community. With this understanding of intentions, the mens rea element of hate crimes does not criminalize an emotional state; rather, it criminalizes a specific intent to cause harm, not just to a person but to a broader community. As I will argue later, these harms are legally relevant because they cause hate crimes to be particularly more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons. Hurd’s critique, in this case, is mostly doctrinal, but it does carry key moral implications. Even if a hate crime causes considerably more harm, the physical action is not different from crime that is completely devoid of any hatred or bias motivation. Is it reasonable to criminalize someone based on the fact that they have hateful beliefs? Is this a violation of the liberalism that grounds Anglo-American common law? The next section of this paper seeks to answer these questions by discussing the morality of hate crimes. Hate Crime Legislation and the Harm Principle In order to justify the distinction within the criminal law between hate crimes and other crimes—particularly when they tend to carry harsher punishment—we must identify a principle that can aid in determining which actions are crimes, and the extent to which they should be punished, if possible. This principle must have two characteristics: (1) It must align and be consistent with a retributivist theory of punishment by being sufficiently “backward-looking” and (2) it must allow for the differentiation of crimes beyond mere moral intuition— differentiating crimes that are “worse” than others, deserving harsher punishment, while aligning with a liberal theory of punishment. John Rawls has famously characterized this theory as one that emboldens the state to enforce the “right” and not the “good” (14). These two specifications ensure that the justificatory logic underpinning hate crime legislation aligns with traditional Anglo-American common law principles, and falls within the scope of this paper and Hurd’s argument. The first of these specifications naturally flows from the scope of this essay. The principle used to justify any sort of hate crime legislation must be “backward-look- ing” or focused on the act itself. This is in opposition to any sort of principle or justification that is consequentialist or “forward-looking.” A consequentialist “approves or disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the tendency it appears to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question” (15), with the “party” at hand being society as a whole, or even the actor themselves. Clearly, a consequentialist’s justification of hate crime legislation is different than that of a retributivist, which this paper intends to address. The second consideration is directly relevant to Hurd’s argument and, naturally, my critique thereof. One of Hurd’s primary critiques of hate crime legislation is that, if “hate” as a mens rea element is not considered to be an “occurrent mental state,” then hate crime legislation effectively criminalizes emotional states. Further, Hurd argues that criminalizing emotional states shifts from a “liberal theory” to a “perfectionist theory” of criminal law. This “liberal theory” of the criminal law extends from the general theory of Political Liberalism. Specifically, in draft- ing legislation, criminal or otherwise, the “government should be neutral among competing conceptions of the good life” (16). Within a society, there will be multiple conceptions of the good life, and the government should only be emboldened to enforce rights that are the result of an “overlapping consensus” that mediates “among conflicting views” (17). Hatred and bias, when not directly connected to an action, are generally considered to be moral beliefs or character traits—and as Hurd notes, “liberals have long believed that theories that construe certain character traits as virtuous or vicious belong to the province of the Good, rather than the Right” (18). Considering that I intend to argue that hate crimes primarily carry harsher sentences due to their being significantly more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons, the principle used to justify this distinction must aid us in determining which crimes are indeed “more morally reprehensible” beyond one’s moral intuition which would align with a liberal theory of punishment. It is quite easy and normal to determine what crimes “feel” more morally reprehensible based upon our own individual moral intuitions. Legislators, however, cannot simply draft criminal legislation based upon their own subjective moral intuitions on a case to case basis; that would not be entirely consistent with political liberalism. Any principle that we use in determining which crimes are more morally reprehensible must not only be applicable to hate crimes, but to any crime which is being considered. As Aristotle notes, “all law is universal” and legislators must take into account and legislate based upon “the usual case” (19). Thus, the principle used to justify hate crime legislation must also be one that is universally applicable. The principle that is most fitting is the “harm principle,” or the concept that the only actions that can be considered crimes are those that cause harm to others or the public. The most classic explication of this principle can be found in the work of John Stuart Mill, in which he claims that “the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others” (20). Put simply, the government can justify criminalization and punishment, overriding some individual rights, based upon the degree to which one being punished has caused “harm” to others. This principle aligns with the two specifications outlined earlier. The harm principle is sufficiently retributivist; If one were to justify punishment based upon the harm principle they would be focusing on the actions of the individual. Applying the harm principle compels legislators to ask: How much harm did the individual cause in their actions? The answer to this question directly affects whether or not their actions are considered criminal and the extent to which they should be punished. Further, Mill was an ardent liberal, and naturally, the “harm principle” aligns with a liberal theory of punishment. The harm principle works upon the liberal logic that an individual has the right not to be subjected to undue harm. While the harm principle does meet the specifications laid out earlier, “nowhere does [Mill] give an explicit general stipulation” as to what constitutes harm. In order to understand how hate crimes should be considered under the harm principle, we must further define our understanding of “harm” (21). Joel Feinberg, in his work Harm to Others, provides a useful definition of “harm.” Concretely, Feinberg defines it as a “setback to interests” (22) that can relate to an individual or to a wider group of people, where interests are “a miscellaneous collection, [consisting] of all those things which one has a stake” (23). While there are nuisances that could be considered harms—a person’s stock performing poorly, for example, could certainly be understood as a setback to interest—these nuisances only become harms in the legal sense when they are the results of an invasion by others. Further, Feinberg provides that this “invasion” becomes legally relevant if the actor is “in a worse condition than [they] would have otherwise been had the invasion not occurred at all” (24). Take, for example, an instance of a person being physically violent towards another. Physical violence towards another person to which they did not consent would certainly be a setback to the victim’s interests—perhaps to their interests in their own health and wellbeing, especially if they had been injured. Further, they would most definitely be in a worse condition due to the physical “invasion” by the other person. Additionally, harms can also manifest themselves as public or private harms. There are many crimes that most would consider to be harms that do not thwart the interest of one specific person. Take, for instance, those who counterfeit money; they are not harming any one person; rather, they are harming society as a whole, thwarting the interests of society by negatively affecting the economy. Working with this understanding of harm and how it operates within the harm principle, we can begin to analyze hate crimes and the harms that they cause. Subsequently, we can begin to analyze whether or not they are considerably more morally reprehensible, warranting increased punishment. I argue that hate crimes indeed cause significantly more harm because they cause an increased amount of harm to the individual in addition to causing public harm as well. Hate crimes cause increased private harm to their victims given that hate crimes do not just attack a person ; they attack their identity as well, causing a fractured sense of security and identity and leading to a myriad of negative effects, or harms . “Crimes... communicate a message to the victim that they do not count and are not worthy of respect” (25) and once someone becomes the victim of a hate crime, they begin to cope and rationalize why they specifically were targeted. While those who aren’t victims of hate crimes could just cite that they were “at the wrong place at the wrong time,” victims of hate crimes cannot adopt this as a possibility. When one is the victim of a hate crime, they will know that they have been target- ed based upon an aspect of their identity, and this in turn causes their identity to become “central to their internal awareness of why they have been victimized” (26). The unique way in which hate crimes target identity causes a variety of immeasurable harms to victims. They often cite increased sentiments of shame and guilt compared to those that have been victimized for other reasons. Not only that, hate crime victims report increased levels of anxiety and depression compared to those that have been victimized for other reasons. Certainly these negative effects are setbacks to interests as defined by Joel Feinberg. They fracture the victim’s sense of self and cause actual physical ailments, leaving them in a much worse condition than that in which they would have been if they had not been attacked at all, and especially if they had not been victimized because of their identity. Beyond the increased harms that hate crimes cause to their victims, they also cause additional public harm uncharacteristic of crimes committed for other reasons: harm caused to the wider community of the targeted group. While hate crimes are attacks on specific individuals, they are more so “symbolic messages to society about the worthiness of certain groups of people” (27). This message is a signal to minority communities that they are “unequal, unwelcome and undeserving of social respect,” and more pertinently, this message is a threat as well. The message of hate crimes creates a heightened sense of vulnerability and insecurity amongst minority communities that leads to an intense fear of victimization, inhibiting community members from living life without extreme caution. Members of minority communities that have been affected by hate crimes often note that the “fear and anxiety” felt by the victims of hate crimes “spreads to other community members” (28). This can be considered a public harm within the framework of the harm principle that I outlined earlier. The effects that hate crimes cause to minority communities can be defined as a setback to interests; again, it is certainly within our interest to be able to live our lives without fear of persecution or assault. Hate crimes deprive minority communities of their ability to do so. When hate crimes are considered within the framework of the harm principle, it is clear that they are more morally reprehensible. Does this naturally lend itself to the conclusion that they deserve increased punishment? I argue that, within a retributivist theory of punishment, it does lend itself to this conclusion given the principles of proportionality. Within the retributive model proposed by Immanuel Kant, the degree of punishment should adhere to “the principle of equality, by which the pointer of the scale of justice is made to incline no more to the one side than the other” (29). Considering the concept of proportionality within the framework of the harm principle, the degree of punishment for a crime should be proportional to the harm created by the crime. If that is the case, then hate crimes surely warrant increased punishment because of the increased harms that they cause, not only to their direct victims, but also to the communities that they affect. Conclusion This paper sought to provide a justification for hate crime legislation that con- formed to the principles of liberalism and aligned with a retributive theory of punishment. I found that harsher punishment for violent crimes related to hatred or bias towards a specific group can be justified when examined using the harm principle. Because hate crimes cause considerably more harm to their victims and minority communities, they are considerably more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons. When assessing whether or not these increased harms warrant increased punishment, we can rely on the notion of proportionality —that punishment for a crime should be proportional to the harm it creates. When examined in this way, increasing criminal sanctions for hate crimes is justified. Further, there are a variety of considerations that need to be taken into account when drafting hate crime legislation: specifically, hate crime legislation should be written to construe the mens rea element of the crime to be the intent to cause the increased harms to the individual and the minority community. Hate crimes are intuitively more morally reprehensible. At first we may think that they deserve increased punishment based upon how these crimes make us feel ; however, we should constantly question ourselves, examining whether our gut moral instincts align with the moral doctrines that guide our actions and the criminal law. In this case, hate crimes do indeed deserve increased punishment based upon these moral doctrines. Thus, legislatures intending on criminalizing hate crime legislation, or any crime for that matter, should not only take doctrinal considerations into account, but should also consider the moral justifications for why these actions deserve criminal liability. If this is the case, the law will begin to be much more consistent and comprehensive with the moral doctrines that we have adopted as a society. Endnotes 1 “Hate Crime Acts,” 18 U.S.C § 249 (2009), https://uscode.house.gov/view.xhtml?req=granuleid:USC- prelim-title18-section249&num=0&edition=prelim. 2 According to the German Ministry of Justice and Consumer Protection, a “politically motivated” crime includes crimes committed for reasons of the victim’s race, “political opinion, nationality, ethnicity, race, skin color, religion, belief, origin, disability, sexual orientation.” 3 Human Rights Watch, “The State Response to ‘Hate Crimes’ in Germany: A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper,” Human Rights Watch, December 9, 2011, https://www.hrw.org/news/2011/12/09/state-response-hate-crimes-germany. 4 “Incitement of Masses,” German Criminal Code § 130 (1998), http://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_ stgb/englisch_stgb.html#p1241. 5 Heidi Hurd, “Why Liberals Should Hate ‘Hate Crime Legislation,’” Law and Philosophy 20, no. 2 (2001): 216. 6 Hurd, 216. 7 Ibid, 218. 8 Ibid, 218. 9 Ibid, 218. 10 Ibid, 226. 11 Ibid, 226. 12 Michael Moore, The Moral Worth of Retribution (Oxford University Press, 2010), 449. 13 Michael Moore, “The Metaphysics of Basic Acts III: Volitions as the Essential Source of Actions,” in Act and Crime: The Philosophy of Action and Its Implications for Criminal Law (Oxford University Press, 1993), 136–37. 14 John Rawls, Political Liberalism, Expanded Ed., Columbia Classics in Philosophy (Columbia University Press, 2005). 15 Jeremy Bentham, “An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation” (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), https://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/bentham-an-introduction-to-the-principles-of-morals-and-legislation. 16 Michael J. Sandel, “Political Liberalism,” Harvard Law Review 107, no. 7 (1994): 1766. 17 Sandel, 1775. 18 Hurd, 230. 19 Aristotle, “Politics,” trans. Benjamin Jowett, 1994, http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/politics.5.five.html. 20 John Stuart Mill, On Liberty (Batoche Books, 1859), 13. 21 D.G. Brown, “The Harm Principle,” in A Companion to Mill, ed. Christopher Macleod and Dale E. Miller (John Wiley & Sons, 2016), 411. 22 Joel Feinberg, Harm to Others, vol. 1, 4 vols. (Oxford University Press, 1984). 23 Feinberg, 1:38. 24 Feinberg, 1:34. 25 Mark Austin Walters, “The Harms of Hate Crime: From Structural Disadvantage to Individual Identity,” in Hate Crime and Restorative Justice (Oxford University Press, 2014), 71. 26 Walters, 73. 27 Mark Austin Walters, 84. 28 Ibid, 84. 29 Morris J. Fish, “An Eye for an Eye: Proportionality as a Moral Principle of Punishment,” Oxford Journal of Legal Studies 28, no. 1 (2008): 63. Bibliography Aristotle. “Politics.” Translated by Benjamin Jowett, 1994. http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/politics.5.five.html. Bentham, Jeremy. “An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation.” Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907. https://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/ben-tham-an- introduction-to-the-principles-of-morals-and-legislation. Brown, D.G. “The Harm Principle.” In A Companion to Mill , edited by Christopher Macleod and Dale E. Miller, 409–24. John Wiley & Sons, 2016. Feinberg, Joel. Harm to Others . Vol. 1. 4 vols. Oxford University Press, 1984. Fish, Morris J. “An Eye for an Eye: Proportionality as a Moral Principle of Punishment.” Oxford Journal of Legal Studies 28, no. 1 (2008): 55–71. Hate crime acts, 18 U.S.C § 249 (2009). https://uscode.house.gov/view.xhtm- l? req=granuleid:USC-prelim-title18-section249&num=0&edition=pre- lim. Hirsch, Andrew von. “Injury and Exasperation: An Examination of Harm to Others and Offense to Others.” Michigan Law Review 84 (1986): 700–717. Human Rights Watch. “The State Response to ‘Hate Crimes’ in Germany: A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper.” Human Rights Watch, December 9, 2011. https://www.hrw.org/news/2011/12/09/state-response-hate-crimes-germany. Hurd, Heidi. “Why Liberals Should Hate ‘Hate Crime Legislation.’” Law and Philosophy 20, no. 2 (2001): 215–32. Incitement of masses, German Criminal Code § 130 (1998). http://www.gese-tze-im- internet.de/englisch_stgb/englisch_stgb.html#p1241. Mill, John Stuart. On Liberty . Batoche Books, 1859. Moore, Michael. “The Metaphysics of Basic Acts III: Volitions as the Essential Source of Actions.” In Act and Crime: The Philosophy of Action and Its Implications for Criminal Law , 113–66. Oxford University Press, 1993. Thought Crime 94 ———. The Moral Worth of Retribution . Oxford University Press, 2010. Rawls, John. Political Liberalism . Expanded Ed. Columbia Classics in Philosophy. Columbia University Press, 2005. Sandel, Michael J. “Political Liberalism.” Harvard Law Review 107, no. 7 (1994): 1765–94. Walters, Mark Austin. “The Harms of Hate Crime: From Structural Disadvantage to Individual Identity.” In Hate Crime and Restorative Justice . Oxford University Press, 2014. Previous Next

Public Funds, Private Interest The Role of Private Companies in Shaping US Cybersecurity Policy Justin Katz Yale University Author Danai Benopoulou Graham Gonzales Hans Lei Marko Winedt Editors Fall 2018 This paper compares current cybersecurity policy with the Cold War military industrial complex to understand how links between the private cybersecurity industry and government impact federal policy. I. Introduction Collectively driven by increased awareness of cyber threats, fear of snooping by government agencies, and growth in intelligence budgets, the private cybersecurity industry has recently exploded. Global cybersecurity spending is predicted to hit $90 billion in 2018[1] and grow at an annual rate of above 20% to $232 billion by 2022.[2] Along with industry expansion, connections between private cybersecurity firms and the government have multiplied. Government intelligence agencies have enlisted the services of private companies for everything ranging from espionage operations[3] to the development of offensive capacities.[4] However, as government and industry deepen their ties, it becomes increasingly possible for misalignment between public and private interests to drive policy in the wrong direction. Given that US cybersecurity strategy is currently ill-defined and malleable, missteps could have impacts for decades. Nevertheless, collaboration between government and industry is also in its infancy, so the nature of public-private relations has yet to solidify. This means that is still time for the government to change course. This paper will analyze the evolving relationship between government agencies and private sector cybersecurity firms in four parts. The first will explore the forms of government contact with the broader cybersecurity marketplace. The second will consider historical connections between the defense establishment and private companies – the Cold War military-industrial complex and the use of private military contractors (PMCs) since the late-90s – as a template for potential policy risks associated with a modern alliance between defense and industry. The third will examine how that public-private cybersecurity connections are distinct from previous military-industrial linkages and analyze the policy implications of those distinctions. The last section will offer some ways to leverage the advantages of the private sector while minimizing harm. II. Government Contact with the Cybersecurity Industry Government agencies have developed ties with the cybersecurity industry in two main ways. First, agencies have spurred demand for information security technology both directly, through government contracts, and indirectly, by encouraging investment by the private sector. Second, a revolving door between government and the private sector has packed corporate boardrooms and staff ranks alike with former intelligence and defense personnel. With growing national security threats and opportunities in cyberspace, members of the defense and intelligence communities have emphasized the need to both secure US critical infrastructure and develop offensive cyber capacities. In response, Congress has approved growing budgets for cyber defense, allowing millions of dollars to go to contractors.[5] More recently, the Pentagon requested $8.5 billion for “cybersecurity-related activities,” while in the FY 2019 budget President Trump called for $15 billion in total cybersecurity spending, a 4% increase over fiscal year 2018 requests.[6] Growth in government demand for private cybersecurity services has directly fueled the industry’s expansion by causing the government to outsource a sizable share of its spending to private contractors.[7] Indeed, in DC, where most contractors are located, almost 24,000 new cybersecurity job openings were posted in 2015, about double that of the next highest region.[8] Government investment in cybersecurity has also indirectly led to market expansion. First, the shifting composition of federal budgets during the 8-year Obama administration in favor of cyber, encouraged large defense contractors to invest more in information security. Despite the overall shrinking of military spending, investment in cybersecurity significantly grew. In response, big tech-centered defense contractors like Boeing, Raytheon, and even consultancy Booz Allen Hamilton have created cybersecurity branches.[9] Seeking to win contracts with innovative new tools, these larger companies have continued to acquire boutique firms offering custom software with narrow applications.[10] Although the Trump administration won a substantial increase in defense spending as part of a February 2018 budget deal, those increases may be temporary, given that ten-year spending caps imposed by the 2011 Budget Control Act remain in place and could force steep cuts at the end of the decade.[11] Therefore, cybersecurity offers a more stable source of demand for contractors than traditional spending. Second, greater government interest in network defense suggests to private firms that cyber threats are widespread, meaning they should invest in their own cybersecurity capacities. While increasing their own cyber spending, federal agencies have published recommendations on how firms should bolster their defenses. For example, Obama’s 2013 executive order commissioning a framework for critical infrastructure protection stated that the government should “provide guidance” on which commercially-available cybersecurity services companies should buy.[12] The Trump administration has pursued continuity with Obama-era policies,[13] and in its 2017 National Security Strategy urged coordinated responses to major threats in both the private and public sectors.[14] Additionally, the intelligence community has invited private firms to attend classified briefings informing them about emerging cybersecurity threats. According to one NSA official, the meetings aim to “scare the bejeezus out of them.”[15] Frightened CEOs then turn to cybersecurity companies for help. The Chief Security Officer of Mandiant, a private security outfit, alleged that executives often buy the firm’s products after attending classified NSA briefings.[16] Federal policy decisions guide the industry’s scale and composition, so firms within the market have a clear profit interest in the government’s cyber strategy. That is not to say, however, that government officials are distorting the scale of cyber threats for private sector benefit. Scare tactics are often necessary to convince recalcitrant executives to make necessary upgrades. However, the outsized effect of federal policies on this industry risks creating real or perceived conflicts of interest. Many top cybersecurity firms are led by experts who once held high-level posts within law enforcement and intelligence agencies. Endgame, for example, sells zero day vulnerabilities and global maps of network weaknesses almost exclusively to government agencies.[17] Its board includes former NSA chief Kenneth Minihan and is chaired by Christopher Darby, the current CEO of the CIA’s venture capital arm.[18] CrowdStrike, a cyber forensics firm, boasts two former FBI officials as top executives – CEO Shawn Henry, former chief of worldwide cyber investigations, and the company’s general counsel, who served as the deputy head of cyber for the Bureau.[19] Many other senior administrators with experience in intelligence and defense sit on corporate boards or serve as executives at major cybersecurity firms.[20] The revolving door between government and the private sector exists for lower level employees as well. Some ex-hackers found their own companies. For example, Brendan Conlon, a Naval Academy graduate who worked as a hacker for both the NSA and CIA, recently founded Vahna, a firm that publicizes its employees’ time working for government agencies.[21] One former NSA official suggests that the best private security companies are founded by members of the “SIGINT” community, who apply the hacking skills they acquired during their time in government to assess system vulnerabilities and respond to breaches.[22] Large defense firms are especially interested in acquiring startups founded by former intelligence community members to secure contacts within the CIA, NSA, and the Pentagon. Knowing that big companies will scramble to buy their startup, government employees become more likely to move to the private sector. Lastly, even if government employees do not start their own company, they frequently move to the private sector with their training in hacking techniques. Though government agencies have taken pains to recruit technically skilled employees to work in their security and hacking divisions, the government lacks the resources to pay competitive salaries compared to the private sector. As a result, many military and intelligence personnel transition to industry work after receiving government training. The cycle has become so predictable that agencies now only plan to keep new hires for a few years.[23] Thus, almost all sectors of the cybersecurity industry have at least some form of contact with government. Private firms have an interest in shaping government cybersecurity policy for their benefit, and these firms may have a unique ability to do so based on these widespread connections. Of course, the revolving door between government and the private sector is not limited to the cybersecurity industry. However, this dynamic presents unique risks in the cyber sphere, given the differences between public and private interests in the cybersecurity industry and several unique characteristics of public-private relations on cybersecurity issues. The next two sections explore those concerns. III. The Cyber-Industrial Complex – Lessons from the Cold War and Private Military Contractors Relationships between the defense establishment and industries that seek government influence are hardly a new phenomenon. Throughout the Cold War, policymakers faced a military-industrial complex, where government demand for military goods and services propped up a lucrative defense contracting industry. In turn, this industry lobbied Congress and the Pentagon for ever-increasing levels of spending. More recently, during the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the Pentagon hired PMCs for operational support. Common challenges between those two episodes demonstrate how ties between the cybersecurity industry and government could negatively impact policymaking. A. Increasing Costs and Threat Inflation From the beginning of the Cold War, connections between private contractors and government encouraged policymakers to overstate Soviet threats and waste money on unnecessary military buildup. A classic example is Eisenhower’s attempt to downsize the B-70 bomber program during his first term. The bomber program involved contracts with thousands of private firms, with production so dispersed that a majority of congressmen had at least one important supplier in their districts.[24] Immediately after announcing the cuts, Eisenhower met fierce opposition from Congress, which accused him of jeopardizing American national security by letting the Soviets outpace American airpower. Eventually, Eisenhower caved and reinstated the program. Air Force officials later testified that claims of a “bomber gap” were invalid, since US capabilities far exceeded those of the USSR.[25] Private contracting had introduced new benefactors of military spending with considerable leverage over policymakers. To justify higher expenditures that kept contractors’ factories running, lawmakers manufactured exaggerated threats. The use of PMCs has also created the potential for overstating threats. Over 60 firms serviced contracts worth billions of dollars during the Iraq War, carrying out many crucial combat operations.[26] However, much of the stated pretense for the Iraqi invasion was unfounded – the Bush administration’s claims that Hussein helped plan 9/11 and that the Iraqi government was nearing the acquisition of nuclear weapons ultimately proved incorrect.[27] It is beyond the scope of this article to speculate on whether the connections between top officials and private beneficiaries of the war – most notably Dick Cheney and Halliburton – motivated the administration to distort the Iraqi threat for financial gain. However, the perception that those ties influenced the invasion undermined the administration’s credibility and damaged Bush’s Iraq policy.[28] These incidents suggest two related concerns for cybersecurity policy: cybersecurity industry players may encourage government officials to overstate the risk of cyber-attacks for private gain, or the public will perceive that they are doing so. There is already evidence that industry interests have outsized influence in national conversations. Former intelligence personnel with a financial stake in private contractors use their credentials as ex-government officials to support extensive cyber operations. After the Snowden disclosures, some of the most stalwart defenders of NSA snooping had both impressive government credentials and deep financial stakes in the agency’s contractors. Stewart Baker, former NSA general counsel who testified before Congress claiming that cutting back PATRIOT Act surveillance programs would help terrorists, now lobbies for NSA contractors including SAIC and the Computer Sciences Corporation.[29] Jack Keane, a former four-star general who defended the NSA’s programs on cable news, is also a board member of the NSA contractor General Dynamics. Retired General Wesley Clark emphasized the need for the PRISM program while simultaneously taking payments from a private equity firm with substantial financial stake in NSA contractors.[30] Of course, there is nothing wrong with former top brass opining about what they consider important defense issues. However, given that officials enjoy a privileged place in national security conversations, conflicts of interest potentially open up avenues for abuse and may cause speculation about corruption. Relationships between local governments and private firms may prevent elected officials from checking threat inflation. From Maryland to Texas, local and state governments have designed tax incentives and run advertising campaigns seeking to create a “cyber Silicon Valley.” Some have even used tax dollars for direct investment in startups.[31] If tech firms set up shop in regions desperate to keep the jobs they provide, then the congressional representatives from those areas will likely lobby extensively for greater government funds devoted to cybersecurity. Representatives of cybersecurity districts may warn of a B-70 bomber-style “cyber gap” as an excuse to spend more on firms with local power. The notion that the cybersecurity industry can influence public threat perception through multiple channels is worrying. Given current trends and cybersecurity’s rapid growth, there is a risk of creating even more problematic relationships in a poorly-understood industry. Besides leading to wasteful and unnecessary spending, an overemphasis on threats could prevent policymakers from properly assessing tradeoffs between security and other interests such as Internet freedom and governance. Even if private actors do not put pressure on policymakers to distort threats for personal gain, the appearance of close ties between industry and government can create perceived conflicts of interest. This might in turn lower trust in government and limit officials’ ability to craft constructive policy. However, despite similarities, the risks of malignant cyber threat inflation and massive government waste are lower than during the Cold War or the invasion of Iraq. First, apparent overstatement of cyber threats is at least partially due to the fact that many do not take threats seriously enough. Therefore, apparent threat inflation may be more indicative of attempts to increase stakeholder attention on an important issue than private sector manipulation of government policy. Second, powerful private interests have an incentive to counter the cybersecurity industry’s threat narrative. Large tech companies recognize that overstating the cyber threats may encourage Congress to mandate that companies meet certain cybersecurity baselines. Since those firms want to avoid burdensome regulation,[32] they have an incentive to lobby lawmakers and make cyber threats seem less severe. B. Inefficiency Even if public-private ties do not drive unnecessary spending, they can drive up costs and make it more difficult for governments to provide necessary services. Theoretically, private contracting lowers government costs by leveraging the competitive forces of the market. Federal agencies can allow firms to bid against each other and award the contract to the company that makes the best offer. However, when firms have government ties, it becomes easier to spend money by lobbying to win more lucrative contracts rather than offering the best one. During the Cold War, private contracts were the products of political negotiation, not competitive bidding, so the firms with the best lobbyists secured the most lucrative contracts. The Pentagon sometimes passed over firms offering the lowest price to grant awards to the firm whose “turn was next.”[33] That process both increased costs by granting contractors monopoly power and privileged firms that already had connections in the system.[34] The use of PMCs increased costs in other ways. By offering salaries that exceeded military pay, contractors lured talented soldiers into the private sector. Then, the contractors sold their services to the government at a higher per-soldier cost to cover their overhead.[35] It is possible that links between the cybersecurity industry and government could create similar inefficiencies. First, former government workers now working as contractors can leverage connections to negotiate deals, even if they do not offer the best package. Second, as traditional defense contractors pivot towards the cybersecurity market, they may use their status as trusted collaborators to win awards over more competitive firms. The fact that many of the biggest cybersecurity contractors are companies with longstanding connections to the intelligence community could raise suspicions that the most entrenched firms, and not necessarily the best, receive government funds. Also, cybersecurity contracts may require that companies have security clearance, limiting the pool of competitors to insiders.[36] Third, cybersecurity firms poach the best technical personnel from government. If federal agencies contract government-trained hackers at a higher cost, then the government ends up paying more for an identical service. Already, some agencies, unable to keep sufficiently skilled technicians away from the private sector, plan on contracting with cybersecurity firms who hire government-trained personnel.[37] Although the government should leverage its own monopoly power to bring down prices and maximize efficiency, current trends suggest that the influence of private firms will serve to increase their margins and waste federal funds. C. Differing Roles and Constraints Even when the government and the private sector carry out similar functions, they occupy different roles and face different constraints. Those distinctions become clear when examining the PMC industry. Private contractors are just that: private. This means they can perform tasks that governments are either legally or politically constrained from doing. Relying on PMCs to carry out combat operations reduces the danger faced by US service members, thereby lowering the political barriers to conflict. Additionally, PMCs are not subject to congressional constraints – for example, the Bush administration used PMCs to circumvent limitations on US military involvement in the Colombian civil war.[38] While the US has used PMCs to expand its operational flexibility, contractors are in no way beholden to American interests. PMCs have worked with dictatorships, drug smugglers, and al-Qaeda-linked terrorist organizations.[39] By increasing demand for PMCs, US operations in Iraq encouraged investment in startups and the expansion of existing firms. As operations in Iraq wind down, those firms need new customers – and there is no guarantee that Washington will like them. US demand for privately-produced cyber weapons and security products raises similar concerns. First, private tools can provide ways for governments to evade legal prohibitions on certain cyber techniques. For example, while CrowdStrike CEO Shawn Henry worked at the FBI, he developed technology to remotely monitor a target’s computer undetected. However, the FBI needed a court order to use the technology. At CrowdStrike, he uses a similar tool, but, as a private entity, he can deploy it without going to court.[40] In an attempt to indict WikiLeaks’ founder Julian Assange, the Justice Department organized a group of small cybersecurity firms, mostly tied to the public-sector security community, to dig up dirt. The group planned to launch an intimidation campaign against WikiLeaks’ followers and discredit the organization by tricking it into publishing fake documents.[41] If performed directly by part of the federal intelligence community, such tactics would spark outrage. While that operation failed, it suggests that, by unloading dirty work onto private companies, the government could skirt political and legal barriers. That may seem like an attractive option in the short run, but in the long run it risks eroding public trust and landing intelligence agencies in even greater legal trouble once laws catch up with technological innovation. Second, the US government has no guarantee that cyber weapons firms will not peddle their wares to countries that threaten American interests. For example, the Mubarak regime and the Bahraini government cracked down on political dissidents allegedly using software purchased from Gamma, a UK firm.[42] US-based Blue Coat has sold Deep Packet Inspection, a technology used to censor journalists and track down dissidents, to Syria, Myanmar, Egypt, Qatar, China, and Venezuela, all countries with spotty human rights records.[43] At first blush, given that the US government does not deal with these companies, it seems that US connections to the cybersecurity industry have no bearing on the development of a worldwide network of cyber mercenaries. While demand from authoritarian regimes for surveillance products would exist regardless, US reliance on private firms to build cyber weapons compounds the problem in two ways. First, demand from the US government increases the size of the market. This is an issue in the market for zero-day exploits, cyber-attacks that exploit previously-unknown technical vulnerabilities. When the US pays millions in government contracts for zero-day exploits, it encourages more companies to enter the business, some of which will inevitably sell to whoever wants to buy.[44] Second, by buying exploits from private companies, the US legitimizes an international cyber arms market. That makes adversaries more likely to brazenly seek out private firms to meet their intelligence needs. An unregulated international trade in cyber vulnerabilities leads to the proliferation of offensive capabilities, multiplying the threats that the US will face in the future. IV. Unique Characteristics While many challenges look similar to those arising from past public-private relationships, several unique characteristics of the cybersecurity industry create new dynamics. First, government dealings with the cybersecurity industry are subject to higher levels of secrecy than most other public-private relationships. The intelligence community hides its contracts behind a shroud of hyper secrecy. One of the documents in the Snowden dump emphasizes the importance of preventing any association between the NSA and one of its contractors, the Computer Sciences Corporation.[45] Similarly, in 2010, Endgame’s modus operandi relied on avoiding any mention in media at all, let alone in relation to the NSA.[46] In this context, intelligence contractors often have better knowledge of the government’s projects than lawmakers, meaning they can use their inside scoop to lobby Congress and win even more contracts.[47] As a result, it is difficult to conduct an appropriate cost-benefit analysis of the tradeoffs associated with existing ties. Second, the cybersecurity industry has other customers besides the government. While PMCs and defense contractors can only sell their services to government agencies, most cybersecurity firms can market and develop products for the private sector as well. Therefore, the size, scope, and composition of the cybersecurity industry is largely determined by factors outside the government’s control. On the one hand, that means the government may have trouble reversing any negative effects of the industry on policy. If a strong cybersecurity industry causes poor government policy, rather than the other way around, then improvements in protocol surrounding agencies’ relationships with industry will not have much of an effect. On the other hand, if firms are participants in a broader private cybersecurity industry, then they will have to adjust their behavior to market realities. For example, if firms encourage government to adopt policies that lead to artificial demand for cybersecurity products, then they risk creating a bubble[48] that would hurt them financially if it bursts. Therefore, firms either avoid extensive lobbying for unnecessarily favorable policies, reducing their distortionary effect, or they engage in such lobbying and weaken their influence in government in the long run once the bubble bursts. Additionally, companies may have less of an incentive to engage in the sorts of problematic rent-seeking behavior explored earlier. If they cannot win government contracts, instead of spending millions on lobbying campaigns, firms might just look for customers in the private sector.[49] Finally, contracting may stymie vital information sharing. During the Cold War and the Iraq invasion, the Department of Defense could hire a single contractor (or group of contractors) to complete a single product or mission. The intelligence and defense establishment have largely replicated this model – single firms produce discrete software tools that the agencies subsequently integrate into their operational doctrine. However, in doing so, agencies lose the ability to work collaboratively and share information to solve important security problems.[50] In fact, with most contractors in direct competition with one another, firms are likely to guard their methods as proprietary secrets. In the current system, the only way contractors can integrate their teams to work on a single project is if one firm buys out another. But that, in turn, reduces competition in the industry as a whole, which can also stifle innovation. While certain characteristics of the cybersecurity industry allow it to self-correct for some of the negative policy effects of public-private ties, the government must take additional steps to be able to eliminate them all. V. Ways to Mitigate the Threat The government benefits from contact with the private cybersecurity sector – contractors allow the intelligence community to tap into the industry’s innovative power and give agencies the flexibility to temporarily increase the size of its workforce for time-sensitive projects. Therefore, policymakers should make changes that retain those benefits while minimizing the costs. First, government agencies should rely less on contractors and more on public-private partnerships to develop new technologies. For example, after Google told the NSA that hackers in China breached their networks, the NSA drafted a “cooperative research and development agreement” where the government and a firm collaborate to develop a new product. The government fronts the R&D costs, while the company participates in the development phase and has the right to patent and build the product designed. In addition, the government can “use any information gained from the collaboration.”[51] This sort of agreement allows the government to access the productive capacities of the private sector, but reduces superfluous spending. While under a traditional contract, a firm gets paid so long as it produces a desired product, under a public-private partnership such as the one formed between the NSA and Google, the firm only profits if they produce a useful tool that someone is willing to buy. Therefore, under this less traditional agreement, firms have no incentive to engage in completely spurious projects without any commercial value. Additionally, all tax dollars go directly towards research and development, eliminating the increased costs resulting from the markup rate that firms would charge the government under a traditional contract. Lastly, a less reliable stream of payments reduces the incentives for big contractors to acquire smaller ones and develop monopoly power in the industry, increasing the number of competitors in the industry and encouraging innovation. Second, the government should try to bolster its in-house cybersecurity capacity. If it can provide more of the services it needs on its own, then it can limit the prevalence and influence of cybersecurity contractors on policy. To do so, all agencies should include a non-compete clause in their employment contracts that prevents former employees from being hired back in a contracting role for a certain period of time.[52] Moreover, agencies should consider adding incentives to stay in government. Additional compensation would be a start, but government needs to find an incentive that is unique from the private sector, such as the intangible benefits of public service or additional prestige. Third, when the US does need to use contractors, it should improve its protocol for awarding contracts. Agencies should implement mechanisms to fast track approval of security clearances to allow more firms to compete in the bidding process, allowing the government to drive down the cost of securing contracts. Fourth, the government should negotiate multilateral agreements to prevent the export of cyber weapons systems to countries on the arms export blacklist for NATO, the US, and the EU. The EU and the US have already banned the export of surveillance technology to Iran and Syria, but efforts should go further. However, such an initiative faces two challenges. First, “cyber weapons” are difficult to define, given the overlap between offense and defense in the cyber sphere. Second, it seems almost impossible to control the cross-border flow of software over the Internet. Despite these challenges, a ban would at least discourage large firms in Western countries from selling to rogue regimes. Since those companies likely offer the best products, a ban would succeed in limiting the proliferation of advanced cyber technologies to adversarial actors. Finally, public and private actors alike should make efforts to increase transparency. Expanding in-house capacity and reducing reliance on contracts should make intelligence and defense agencies more accountable to the public. However, the best way to hold agencies accountable is to subject them to greater scrutiny. When former government officials make statements, media outlets and lawmakers should investigate and report their financial conflicts of interest. Then, policymakers can evaluate whether the speaker’s testimony is biased, enabling nuanced debate on US cyber threats. When intelligence agencies or the Pentagon request more money for cybersecurity, they should disclose, at least to Congress, specific details about how that money will be spent. That disclosure should make it easier to identify unnecessary spending, parse out corporate interests, and prevent agency officials from awarding contracts based on connections instead of merit, making bidding processes more competitive. Of course, some aspects of intelligence ought to be kept secret. But it is impossible to make informed policy judgments without some understanding of where money goes. Endnotes [2] "Cybersecurity Market by Solution (IAM, Encryption, DLP, UTM, Antivirus/Anti-Malware, Firewall, IDS/IPS, Disaster Recovery, DDOS Mitigation, SIEM), Service, Security Type, Deployment Mode, Organization Size, Vertical, and Region - Global Forecast to 2022." Markets and Markets Research. July 2017. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/Market-Reports/cyber-security-market-505.html. CAGR from author’s calculations. [3] Talbot, Daniel. "The Cyber Security Industrial Complex." MIT Technology Review. December 06, 2011. Accessed May 09, 2016. https://www.technologyreview.com/s/426285/the-cyber-security-industrial-complex/. [4] Robertson, Jordan, and Michael Riley. "US Contractors Scale Up Search for Heartbleed-Like Flaws." Bloomberg. May 2, 2014. Accessed May 08, 2016. http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-05-02/us-contractors-scale-up-search-for-heartbleed-like-flaws. [5] Bamford, James. "NSA Snooping Was Only the Beginning. Meet the Spy Chief Leading Us Into Cyberwar." Wired Magazine. June 13, 13. Accessed May 09, 2016. https://www.wired.com/2013/06/general-keith-alexander-cyberwar/. [6] United States. White House. Office of Management and Budget. Analytical Perspectives, Section 21: Cybersecurity Funding. Washington, DC: US Government Publishing Office, 2018. 273-87. [7] Fox-Brewster, Thomas. "Embracing The Awful Irony At A Huge Counter-Terrorism Fair In Paris Days After ISIS Attacks." Forbes. November 22, 2015. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.forbes.com/sites/thomasbrewster/2015/11/22/paris-hosts-milipol-homeland-defense-expo-after-isis-attacks/#7fc15fc97da6. [8] Sorcher, Sara. "The Race to Build the Silicon Valley of Cybersecurity." The Christian Science Monitor. December 2015. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://passcode.csmonitor.com/goldrush. [9] Bamford, “NSA Snooping.” [10] Byrt, Frank. "U.S. Defense Contractors Are Scrambling To Fill Massive Cyber Security Contracts." Business Insider. November 19, 2010. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.businessinsider.com/obama-is-spending-a-ton-on-defense-spending-in-cyber-security-2010-11. [11] O'Brien, Connor. "Military Hawks Win Big in Budget Deal — for Now." Politico, February 9, 2018. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://www.politico.com/story/2018/02/09/budget-deal-military-hawks-333128. [12] Exec. Order No. 13636, 3 C.F.R. (2013). [13] Fazzini, Kate. "Under Trump, Some Subtle Cybersecurity Changes." The Wall Street Journal, December 13, 2017. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://blogs.wsj.com/cio/2017/12/13/under-trump-some-subtle-cybersecurity-changes/. [14] United States. The White House. National Security Strategy of the United States of America. 2017. [15] Harris, Shane. War the Rise of the Military-Internet Complex. Boston, Mass.: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2014. 180. [16] Ibid, 180. [17] Harris, @War, 104. [18] Greenberg, Andy. "Inside Endgame: A Second Act For The Blackwater Of Hacking." Forbes. February 12, 2014. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.forbes.com/sites/andygreenberg/2014/02/12/inside-endgame-a-new-direction-for-the-blackwater-of-hacking/#5da8ea7a52d9. [19] Harris, @War, 109. [20] Benner, Katie. "Cybersecurity's Money Men." The Information. January 21, 2014. Accessed May 9, 2016. https://www.theinformation.com/cybersecuritys-money-men. [21] Harris, @War, 121. [22] Ibid, 120. [23] Ibid, 223. [24] York, Herbert. Race to Oblivion: A Participant's View of the Arms Race. Simon and Schuster, 1971. Accessed May 11, 2016, 53. http://www.learnworld.com/ZNW/LWText.York.Race.Ch03.html. [25] Brito, Jerry, and Tate Watkins. "Loving the Cyber Bomb? The Dangers of Threat Inflation in Cybersecurity Policy." Harvard National Security Journal 3 (2011): 39-84. Accessed May 11, 2016. HeinOnline. 66. [26] Singer, Peter. "Outsourcing War." Foreign Affairs 84, no. 2 (March/April 2005): 119-32. 122. [27] Brito and Watkins, "Loving the Cyber Bomb?,” 43. [28] Martha Minow, Outsourcing Power: How Privatizing Military Efforts Challenges Accountability, Professionalism, and Democracy, 46 B.C.L. Rev. 989 (2005), http://lawdigitalcommons.bc.edu/bclr/ vol46/iss5/2. [29] Fang, Lee. "Many of the NSA's Loudest Defenders Have Financial Ties to NSA Contractors." The Intercept. May 12, 2015. Accessed May 11, 2016. https://theintercept.com/2015/05/12/intelligence-industry-cash-flows-media-echo-chamber-defending-nsa-surveillance/. [30] Ibid. [31] Sorcher, “The Race to Build the Silicon Valley of Cybersecurity.” [32] Etzioni, Amitai. "The Private Sector: A Reluctant Partner in Cybersecurity." Institute for Communitarian Studies, December 19, 2014. https://icps.gwu.edu/private-sector-reluctant-partner-cybersecurity. [33] Markusen, Ann. "Defense Spending: A Successful Industrial Policy?" International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 10, no. 1 (1986): 105-22. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-2427.1986.tb00007.x. [34] Adams, Walter. "The Military-Industrial Complex and the New Industrial State." The American Economic Review 58, no. 2 (May 1968): 652-65. 658. [35] Singer, “Outsourcing War,” 129. [36] Chesterman, Simon. "‘We Can't Spy …If We Can't Buy!’" European Journal of International Law 19, no. 5 (November 2008): 1055-071. [37] Harris, @War, 223. [38] Singer, “Outsourcing War,” 126. [39] Ibid, 125. [40] Seabrook, John. "Network Insecurity." The New Yorker. May 20, 2013. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2013/05/20/network-insecurity. [41] Ibid, 115. The collaboration dissolved in 2011 when Anonymous hacked into one of the coordinators’ emails and released correspondences about the group’s plans. [42] Keating, Lucy. "Surveillance: A Thriving British Industry." The Bureau of Investigative Journalism. December 01, 2011. Accessed May 11, 2016. https://www.thebureauinvestigates.com/2011/12/01/surveillance-a-thriving-british-industry/. [43] Reporters without Borders. Enemies of the Internet. Publication. 2013. 7. [44] Bamford, “NSA Snooping Was Only the Beginning. Meet the Spy Chief Leading Us Into Cyberwar.” [45] Shorrock, "How Private Contractors Have Created a Shadow NSA." [46] Greenberg, “Inside Endgame.” [47] Chesterman, "‘We Can't Spy …If We Can't Buy!’" [48] Some commentators think government policies might create a bubble. See Harris, @War, 122; for evidence that the value of cybersecurity firms has declined in the last year, see King, “Under Pressure, Cybersecurity Ripe for M&A This Year.” [49] Naturally, none of those principles strictly hold – look no further than the success of IT lobbyists in recent years to win government money. See Brito and Watkins, "Loving the Cyber Bomb?,” 69. [50] Chesterman, “We Can’t Spy…If We Can’t Buy!” [51] Harris, @War, 175. [52] The CIA already does this: see Chesterman, “We Can’t Spy…If We Can’t Buy!” References Adams, Walter. "The Military-Industrial Complex and the New Industrial State." The American Economic Review 58, no. 2 (May 1968): 652-65. Bamford, James. "NSA Snooping Was Only the Beginning. Meet the Spy Chief Leading Us Into Cyberwar." Wired Magazine. June 13, 13. Accessed May 09, 2016. https://www.wired.com/2013/06/general-keith-alexander-cyberwar/ . Benner, Katie. "Cybersecurity's Money Men." The Information. January 21, 2014. Accessed May 9, 2016. https://www.theinformation.com/cybersecuritys-money-men . Byrt, Frank. "U.S. Defense Contractors Are Scrambling To Fill Massive Cyber Security Contracts." Business Insider. November 19, 2010. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.businessinsider.com/obama-is-spending-a-ton-on-defense-spending-in-cyber-security-2010-11 . Chesterman, Simon. "‘We Can't Spy …If We Can't Buy!’: The Privatization of Intelligence and the Limits of Outsourcing ‘Inherently Governmental Functions’." European Journal of International Law 19, no. 5 (November 2008): 1055-071. Chief Financial Officer, Office of the Undersecretary of Defense (Comptroller). Defense Budget Overview: US Department of Defense Fiscal Year 2017 Budget Request. Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, 2016. "Cybersecurity Market by Solution (IAM, Encryption, DLP, UTM, Antivirus/Anti-Malware, Firewall, IDS/IPS, Disaster Recovery, DDOS Mitigation, SIEM), Service, Security Type, Deployment Mode, Organization Size, Vertical, and Region - Global Forecast to 2022." Markets and Markets Research. July 2017. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/Market-Reports/cyber-security-market-505.html. Etzioni, Amitai. "The Private Sector: A Reluctant Partner in Cybersecurity." Institute for Communitarian Studies, December 19, 2014. https://icps.gwu.edu/private-sector-reluctant-partner-cybersecurity . Exec. Order No. 13636, 3 C.F.R. (2013). Fang, Lee. "Many of the NSA's Loudest Defenders Have Financial Ties to NSA Contractors." The Intercept. May 12, 2015. Accessed May 11, 2016. https://theintercept.com/2015/05/12/intelligence-industry-cash-flows-media-echo-chamber-defending-nsa-surveillance/ . Fazzini, Kate. "Under Trump, Some Subtle Cybersecurity Changes." The Wall Street Journal, December 13, 2017. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://blogs.wsj.com/cio/2017/12/13/under-trump-some-subtle-cybersecurity-changes/. Fox-Brewster, Thomas. "Embracing The Awful Irony At A Huge Counter-Terrorism Fair In Paris Days After ISIS Attacks." Forbes. November 22, 2015. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.forbes.com/sites/thomasbrewster/2015/11/22/paris-hosts-milipol-homeland-defense-expo-after-isis-attacks/#7fc15fc97da6 . Greenberg, Andy. "Inside Endgame: A Second Act For The Blackwater Of Hacking." Forbes. February 12, 2014. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.forbes.com/sites/andygreenberg/2014/02/12/inside-endgame-a-new-direction-for-the-blackwater-of-hacking/#5da8ea7a52d9 . Harris, Shane. War the Rise of the Military-Internet Complex. Boston, Mass.: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2014. Keating, Lucy. "Surveillance: A Thriving British Industry." The Bureau of Investigative Journalism. December 01, 2011. Accessed May 11, 2016. https://www.thebureauinvestigates.com/2011/12/01/surveillance-a-thriving-british-industry/ . King, Rachel. "Under Pressure, Cybersecurity Market Is Ripe for M&A in 2016." The Wall Street Journal. February 29, 2016. Accessed May 08, 2016. http://blogs.wsj.com/cio/2016/02/29/under-pressure-cybersecurity-market-is-ripe-for-ma-in-2016/ . Markusen, Ann. "Defense Spending: A Successful Industrial Policy?" International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 10, no. 1 (1986): 105-22. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-2427.1986.tb00007.x . Martha Minow, Outsourcing Power: How Privatizing Military Efforts Challenges Accountability, Professionalism, and Democracy, 46 B.C.L. Rev. 989 (2005), http://lawdigitalcommons.bc.edu/bclr/ vol46/iss5/2. O'Brien, Connor. "Military Hawks Win Big in Budget Deal — for Now." Politico, February 9, 2018. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://www.politico.com/story/2018/02/09/budget-deal-military-hawks-333128. Office of the Press Secretary. "Cybersecurity National Action Plan." The White House. February 09, 2016. Accessed May 09, 2016. https://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2016/02/09/fact-sheet-cybersecurity-national-action-plan . Panetta, Leon. Speech, The Global Threat of Cyber Attacks, Business Executives for National Security, New York City. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://www.cfr.org/cybersecurity/secretary-panettas-speech-cybersecurity/p29262 . Robertson, Jordan, and Michael Riley. "US Contractors Scale Up Search for Heartbleed-Like Flaws." Bloomberg. May 2, 2014. Accessed May 08, 2016. http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-05-02/us-contractors-scale-up-search-for-heartbleed-like-flaws . Reporters without Borders. Enemies of the Internet. Publication. 2013. Seabrook, John. "Network Insecurity." The New Yorker. May 20, 2013. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2013/05/20/network-insecurity . Shorrock, Tim. "How Private Contractors Have Created a Shadow NSA." The Nation. May 27, 2015. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://www.thenation.com/article/how-private-contractors-have-created-shadow-nsa/ . Swartz, Jon. "Cybersecurity Spending to Hit $90 Billion In 2018: Report." Barron's. February 23, 2018. Accessed April 18, 2018. https://www.barrons.com/articles/cybersecurity-spending-to-hit-90-billion-in-2018-report-1519405299. Singer, Peter. "Outsourcing War." Foreign Affairs 84, no. 2 (March/April 2005): 119-32. Sorcher, Sara. "The Race to Build the Silicon Valley of Cybersecurity." The Christian Science Monitor. December 2015. Accessed May 09, 2016. http://passcode.csmonitor.com/goldrush . Talbot, Daniel. "The Cyber Security Industrial Complex." MIT Technology Review. December 06, 2011. Accessed May 09, 2016. https://www.technologyreview.com/s/426285/the-cyber-security-industrial-complex/ . United States. National Institute for Standards and Technology. US Department of Commerce. Framework for Improving Critical Infrastructure Cybersecurity. 2014. United States. The White House. National Security Strategy of the United States of America. 2017. United States. White House. Office of Management and Budget. Analytical Perspectives, Section 21: Cybersecurity Funding. Washington, DC: US Government Publishing Office, 2018. 273-87. York, Herbert. Race to Oblivion: A Participant's View of the Arms Race. Simon and Schuster, 1971. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://www.learnworld.com/ZNW/LWText.York.Race.Ch03.html .

Energy Embracing Renewable Energy for Sustainable Job Growth in West Virginia Jingpeng Shao Brown University Author Anna Corradi Phillip Squires Elizabeth Yeh Editors Spring 2018 Examining the intersection of climate change and rise of populism in West Virginia, this essay evaluates policies and represents recommendations to address the demand for quality jobs and long-term transition towards sustainable energy. Introduction The dependency on coal for energy generation lies at the intersection of two crucial issues that have come to define international political economy in the 21st Century–climate change and the rise of populism–thus illustrating the deep dissatisfaction with economic liberalization and globalization. In the US, coal lost its position as the dominant source of electricity generation for the first time in 2016 (30.4%) when it was surpassed by natural gas (33.8%) (EIA, 2017). This has contributed to a long-term trend of decline in coal employment, which began after the end of the Second World War and created a substantial source of economic, social, and political woes for the mid-Appalachian region known as the ‘Coal Country’. While campaigning for the 2016 presidential election, Donald Trump proclaimed, “We’re going to put the miners back to work,” to a cheering crowd waving “Trump Digs Coal” signs in Charleston, West Virginia (C-Span - Trump, 2016). His landslide success in the state, beating Hillary Clinton’s 26.2% with 67.9% of the popular vote in November 2016, in part reflects the appeal of his vow to end the liberals’ “War on Coal,” which has allegedly destroyed jobs and with them the prosperity of the region. On the same day, West Virginians elected Democrat Jim Justice, who had promised to embrace coal and echoed Trump’s “jobs, jobs, jobs,” as governor. Such rhetoric has two main implications: that West Virginia’s fortunes are tied to coal, and that the decline of coal can be reversed. However, these are only myths and carry no fact-based weight. West Virginia’s economic woes are complex and must be addressed with a multitude of approaches. Instead of viewing renewable energy in a negative light and trying to dismiss it, the state should consider it as a viable source of job creation for the region. Dismantling the Environmental Protection Agency and related regulations such as the Clean Power Plan, all of which are meant to be combating climate change, is not the panacea when addressing the long-neglected demand for jobs in the region. In fact, it will lead to greater long-term woes with marginal short-term benefits. Instead, policymakers must embrace the shift in energy that is essential for climate change mitigation by transitioning to the sustainable energy sector and by investing in job creation to help people adapt to the movement towards a low-carbon economy. More specifically, instead of resuscitating coal mines and opening coal power plants, West Virginian legislators should first remove regulations that discourage renewable energy, then stimulate the demand for renewable energy and related jobs (such as energy efficiency) (GPO, 2011), and finally invest in (re)training programs to help unemployed (coal) workers. For any policy to be successfully executed, it must respect and understand the values and hardships of the region, as it confronts the two aforementioned myths. Therefore, this paper will begin by examining the two relevant problems in the international political economy: climate change and the rise of populism in the heart of the “Coal Country,” namely West Virginia. Such contextualization will provide the objectives and the evaluation criteria for the policies that will be compared. From those assessments, a set of policies recommendation will be constructed for legislators, with the goal of simultaneously addressing the demand for quality jobs and the long-term need to transition towards sustainable energy. Climate Change and the Clean Power Plan Climate change is an inherently global problem, one caused by greenhouse gas emissions (carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide, perfluorocarbons, sulfur hexafluoride, and nitrogen trifluoride etc.) emitted across the world. Thus, this phenomenon has global repercussions, such as rising sea levels and more frequent extreme weather events (Tanner and Allouche, 2011). The transition to low-carbon energy, which focuses on limiting greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere (Frankfurt, 2017), is crucial to climate change mitigation. The 2015 Paris Agreement, with the overall objective of restricting the global temperature rise to below 2 degrees Celsius compared to pre-industrial levels, is an important milestone in the international cooperation that is crucial in combating climate change. A successful execution, however, depends entirely on the ability of member nations to stay committed to their reduction promises. Under President Obama, the US committed to reducing its greenhouse gas emissions by 26-28% below 2005 levels by 2025. The energy sector, accounting for 31% of emissions, is the most influential sector in terms of US greenhouse gas emissions. The Clean Power Plan (CPP) of the Environmental Protection Agency (under section 111(b) of the Clean Air Act) is a key component of this effort, one that encourages the shift towards less polluting sources of energy. However, it is also portrayed as driving the “War on Coal.” To reach the overall goal of 32% reduction (compared to 2005 levels) in carbon dioxide pollution from American power plants, the act stipulates state-specific targets for carbon emission reduction. West Virginia’s target is to reduce carbon dioxide emissions from 72,319 thousand short tons in 2012 to 51,325 thousand short tons (only considering existing sources) or to 51,857 thousand short tons (considering both existing and new sources). That translates into a significant challenge: either a 37% reduction in carbon dioxide emissions per megawatt-hour (“rate-based” target), or a 29% reduction in total emissions from existing sources (a “mass-based” target, which is recommended by the West Virginia Department of Environmental Protection’s Feasibility Report) (Van Nostrand, Hansen, and James, 2016). Under the CPP, each state chooses the combination of compliance measures necessary to achieve the goal, such as improving efficiency of existing power plants (“heat rate improvements” in the case of coal power plants), increasing the use of natural gas, increasing the use of renewable sources (hydropower, wind, solar), and reducing the demand for electricity. Thus, it is essential to focus on how increasing renewable sources of energy can be a possible source of sustainable job creation in West Virginia. In addition to legal challenges that immediately attempted to halt the enforcement of the Clean Power Plan, the executive order issued by President Trump on March 28, 2017 rolled back on the Obama-era climate change policies, including the CPP. The country was told such action was being taken in the name of energy independence, and the miners were told: “You’re going back to work.”(Davenport and Rubin, 2017) Absolving the US, the second largest carbon dioxide polluter in the world, from their commitment to climate change mitigation threatens to unravel the multilateral agreements in the global fight against climate change. Other countries also had to face a tradeoff between short-term economic development, and finding sustainable climate change solutions. This is particularly true for China and India (the first and third largest polluters), which have been dependent on coal as an inexpensive source of energy for moving their massive populations out of poverty. West Virginia is an example of the challenges faced in transitioning away from coal as a source of energy once the industry and infrastructures are established. Coal Country and Populism West Virginia’s coal has helped power the country since the Industrial Revolution, and the resulting period of prosperity bound coal to the regional identity. The dual myth – that the decline of coal is reversible and that coal still determines the prospects of West Virginia – continues to prevail at the heart of the Coal Country. These pervasive notions must be considered when designing and implementing policy that emphasizes a shift away from coal. Patrick Hickey, a political science professor at West Virginia University, reflects on the appealing rhetoric of the War on Coal: “It is political suicide to tell citizens the truth about coal.” (Dlouhy and Natter, 2017) Since World War II, the coal industry has experienced dramatic transformations that have led to a decreasing demand for labor. For instance, modern extraction techniques, such as “mountaintop-removal mining” and new machinery, have replaced the traditional pickaxes and shovels. Furthermore, coal operators and contractors have decreased from 250,266 in 1979 to 98,505 in 2015 despite steady output of coal (MSHA, 2015). In the past decade, the rise of cheap natural gas due to hydraulic fracturing (commonly known as “fracking”) has further decreased demand for coal miners. The changing relative prices of coal and natural gas have contributed to this market-driven shift from coal to natural gas. Between 2000 and 2008, natural gas was significantly more expensive than coal. However, with the onslaught of natural gas extracted from shale formations, the gap in prices has narrowed significantly since 2009 (EIA, 2016). Coal was the largest source for electricity generation until 2016, when natural gas (33.8% of US generation share or 1,380,295 gigawatt hours) surpassed coal (30.4% or 1,240,108 gigawatt hours) (EIA, 2017). By contrast, in 2011 natural gas accounted for 24.7% (or 1,013,689 gigawatt hours) and coal accounted for 42.3% (or 1,733,430 gigawatt hours). Because of the long time horizons of power plant construction and retirement (beyond the four year term of one president), these results illustrate the long-term trends in the energy generation industry. The US Energy Information Administration reported that American power companies have retired and converted 13,000 megawatts of coal-power plants, and plan to retire or convert 8,000 megawatts of coal-fired power plants by the end of 2017 (many without regards for recent changes in regulation) (EIA, 2017). This demonstrates how the Clean Power Plan is not, as Trump has argued, the sole or even the biggest culprit for the decline of coal. In fact, the CPP was never meaningfully enacted due to the Supreme Court’s decision to block implementation during the litigation of West Virginia v. EPA (Tsand and Wyatt, 2017). In the absence of real implementation, there is little basis for the argument that CPP has had any direct impact on the decline of coal. In other words, the CPP has been wrongly framed as the culprit of the socioeconomic problems associated with the decline of coal by certain politicians resorting to demagogic rhetoric. The realities of cheap natural gas with decreasing market demand for coal and increasing international support for clean energy cannot be easily reversed. Furthermore, the demand for coal outside of West Virginia also influences the West Virginian coal industry because it exports a significant amount of the coal it produces; in 2014, around half (50 million short tons) were shipped to other states and around one-third (34 million short tons) were exported internationally (EIA, 2017). Coal has long been the largest commodity the state exports by value: 25.3% (or $1.278 billion) in 2016, despite a 25.8% decrease since 2015 (which is consistent with past years) (US Census, 2017). The decrease can be partially attributed to the weaker international demand, especially from China, where the government is prioritizing and heavily investing in sustainable energy development in addition to cutting back on coal (Frankfurt, 2017). These industry-wide trends contradict the narrative of some politicians blaming job loss primarily on environmental regulations such as the Clean Power Plan. The second persisting myth is how West Virginia is tied to coal. For the last 25 years, coal has accounted for less than 5% of the state’s workforce (Cohen, 2016). Nevertheless, the cultural symbolism of coal remains incredibly influential and poignant for the community where, “even if you’re not directly connected to the industry, you may know family members or relatives or ancestors who were.” (Dlouhy and Natter, 2017) To West Virginians, the job of a coal miner once signified, and continues to evoke, a stable middle-class yearly income of $85,000 with many benefits. Being a unionized salary, this was the norm for the coal miners of previous generations, under the United Mine Workers of America (Tabuchi, 2017). The widening income inequality within the industry between the executives and the coal workers has also contributed to the sense of loss and nostalgia for the blue-collar workers of ‘Coal Country,’ which is exacerbated by the replacement of unionized long-term contracts with low pay short-term contracts (Tabuchi, 2017). When the middle-class loses the hope and security that accompanies a well-paying long-term job, populism branded with “jobs” swells quickly. Coal miners and their communities are proud of their heritage and identity, embracing their status as the soldiers powering America. Even an infamous Hillary Clinton quote promoting her $30 billion program for coal workers incorporated praise for coal miners: “Because we're going to put a lot of coal miners and coal companies out of business, right? And we're going to make it clear that we don't want to forget those people. Those people labored in those mines for generations, losing their health, often losing their lives to turn on our lights and power our factories.” (C-Span – Clinton, 2016) Her failed effort to reconcile the declining coal industry with opportunities in the renewable energy sector shows the importance of effectively communicating and convincing not only the coal community, but also blue-collar America, that the coal industry will be supported. Policy Objectives and Criteria For long-term prosperity in West Virginia, policymakers should consider renewable energy as a possible solution in order to simultaneously address the need for climate change mitigation and the demand for sustainable jobs as highlighted by the rise of populism. Without sufficient job creation, climate change efforts could fail to address the (potentially negative) impact on the greater economy, as pointed out by Dr. David Montgomery’s critique of a PERI study on EPA regulations, during the Senate Committee Hearing on Green Jobs and Trade: “the critical error, epitomized by PERI, and common to all the studies in the genre, is their failure to balance the jobs lost in the rest of the economy against those that may be gained as a result of the specific mandated investments… It ignores the increase in the cost of electricity caused by this policy and the effect of that higher cost on household real incomes, wages, productivity, investment in other sectors and economic growth.” (GPO, 2011) Environmental regulations could force policymakers to choose climate change mitigation over economic needs, which would put additional stress on an already sensitive economic situation. West Virginia will likely face the same challenge of dependency on a declining fossil-fuel industry (coal today) again in the future if steps towards renewable energy are not taken. Complying with environmental regulations such as the CPP is only the first step towards long term sustainability, as these policies may continue to perpetuate the dependence on relatively cleaner but non-renewable energy sources such as natural gas or “clean coal.” (Van Nostrand, Hansen, and James, 2016) Natural gas has already begun replacing coal across the nation and within West Virginia, as the state’s existing energy infrastructure and geographic location help make natural gas development significantly cheaper than renewable energy development. Still, the fundamental issue of long-term sustainability in energy generation can only be resolved by a shift (however gradual) towards renewable energy by shifting both market dynamics and state policy. Kate Gordon, the Vice President for Energy Policy at The Center for American Progress Action Fund, presents a strong long-term view: “‘green jobs’ stands for much more than just the jobs themselves. It stands for a whole new set of industries and investments that will make us as a country more competitive and our economy more sustainable in the long term.” (GPO, 2011) Without addressing the constituents’ economic and job demands in West Virginia, which have already contributed to the hopelessness and frustration of the community, populism will continue to rise and undermine the political will to participate in international cooperation for climate change mitigation. Success in creating desirable and sustainable jobs for the disenfranchised blue-collar workers can demonstrate the viability of a low-carbon economy and increase the appeal of combating climate change mitigation. Policy Evaluation and Recommendation Given West Virginia’s status as the fourth largest energy producing state (producing 4.6% of US electricity in 2013), its dependency on coal for generating 94% of that power in 2015, and the greater shift away from coal, there is significant space and potential for sustainable job creation in the renewable energy industry. In neighboring Ohio, which also has a history rooted in coal, there has already been significant progress made in the energy transition. The city of Toledo transformed itself into a center for solar innovation and production, thereby creating over 6,000 jobs (GPO, 2011). In order for there to be an increase in renewable energy investment, the demand for clean energy must be stimulated. The initial steps can be taken by removing the limits placed on net metering, and by allowing more distributed generation that would incentivize installations for renewable energy generation by individuals. The net metering system for solar energy systems’ owners calculates and charges their net usage of electricity, allowing for the excess electricity that these owners contribute to the grid to partially cancel out the electricity that they consume from the grid in the form of issued credits. Policymakers can work towards re-instituting its renewable portfolio standards by requiring investor-owned electric utilities and large retail suppliers to acquire 25% of electricity from alternative and renewable sources by 2025 (for which it became the first state to repeal in 2015) (EIA, 2017). Tax cuts, subsidies, and even loans and investment (perhaps with a combination of private and public funds) for larger utility-scale renewable energy projects can also be considered. However, measures must be taken to ensure long-term viability and responsible use of taxpayer money, and to confirm that incentives are not distorted. This first component of directly stimulating development in the renewable energy sector was missing in Hillary Clinton’s $30 billion “Plan for Revitalizing Coal Communities,” though it does share a similar recommendation for the following retraining program (Clinton, 2015). Secondly, West Virginian workers must be empowered to capitalize on job opportunities in growing renewable energy industries. Investing in retraining initiatives will bridge the gap between employers and employees by improving the skills of the overall labor pool. The success of such action is hopeful: on a smaller scale, the Coalfield Development Corporation’s programs have already demonstrated measurable success. They provide retraining to unemployed coal miners in different sectors: for instance, its “ReWire Appalachia” program uses the 33-6-3 model (33 hours of paid labor, 6 hours of higher education class time, and 3 hours of life-skills mentorship), and focuses on community-based solar projects, and could triple the amount of solar power in West Virginia (Coalfield, 2017). The impact of such program on boosting the solar industry and on empowering unemployed coal miners is indicative of a great initiative that should be scaled up with the support of West Virginia legislators. Regarding the criticism of the costliness of job training programs, cost projections can significantly differ depending on implementation (Louie and Pearce, 2016). Collaboration with potential employers in developing training programs with in-demand skills would also boost the effectiveness of the retraining program. This would not necessarily mean that taxpayers are funding training for certain companies, as long as there is a sufficiently large and diverse number of employers. As West Virginia faces economic challenges and transitional pressures, legislators should consider renewable energy as a potential source of job creation and economic growth. West Virginia has historically been one of the nation’s leaders in energy production. Therefore, rather than relinquish this position as a result of the decline in the coal industry, state officials should understand that fossil fuel sources, such as coal and natural gas, despite their low cost, do not represent the future of energy production and will likely be displaced by renewable energy sources. Thus, investing in clean energy development and retraining programs for present and future unemployed coal workers will allow West Virginia to maintain its status as a key energy producer for the US. However, state leaders must first push back against the dual myths, i.e. that West Virginia’s fortunes are tied to coal and the decline of coal can be reversed, which continually create resistance against alternative sources of energy. Once the myths are properly understood as such, climate change mitigation and the need for sustainable jobs can be transformed into two complementary pieces working together for West Virginia’s benefit. Together, they can create both long-term prosperity and a positive impact on climate change mitigation. Endnotes 3 The other important is adaptation, which focuses on adjusting to the adverse effects of climate change – especially important given how climate change impacts different regions unequally, often exacerbating preexisting poverty. 4 Granted, the poverty and need for electricity cannot be overlooked. 5 This uses controlled explosions on mountains to expose coal seams. 6 I do not agree with the entirety of his statement and was not able to evaluate the economic models. 7 Multiple variations of “Clean Coal” exist, including the aforementioned “heat rate improvements,” the more recent carbon capture and storage technologies that have pushed some coal companies to support the Paris Agreement. 8 The only source of industry investment funding is private, which could limit the scale at which demand for renewable energy can be stimulated. References United States Energy Information Administration. "Electricity Monthly Update", 2017. Presidential Candidate Donald Trump Rally In Charleston, West Virginia. Video. Reprint, Charleston, West Virginia: C-Span, 2016. Subcommittee on Green Jobs and the New Economy, of the Committee on Environment and Public Works. "Green Jobs And Trade: Hearings Before The Subcommittee On Green Jobs And The New Economy, Of The Committee On Environment And Public Works, 112Th Cong., 1St Sess. (2011)". Reprint, GPO, 2011. Tanner, Thomas, and Jeremy Allouche. "Towards A New Political Economy Of Climate Change And Development". IDS Bulletin 42, no. 3 (2011): 1-14. doi:10.1111/j.1759-5436.2011.00217.x. UNEP Centre, Frankfurt School. Global Trends In Renewable Energy Investment 2017. Ebook, 2017. http://fs-unep-centre.org/sites/default/files/publications/ globaltrendsinrenewableenergyinvestment2017.pdf. Van Nostrand, James M., Evan Hansen, and Joseph James. Expanding Economic Opportunity For West Virginia Under The Clean Power Plan. Ebook, 2016. http://energy.law.wvu.edu/files/d/585cffce-0aea-4535-84d0- 344591cfbb8/cpp-phase-ii-final.pdf. Davenport, Coral, and Alissa J. Rubin. "Trump Signs Executive Order Unwinding Obama Climate Policies". Nytimes.Com, 2017. https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/28/climate/trump-executive-order-climate-change.html _r=0. Dlouhy, Jennifer A., and Ari Natter. "Trump’S Executive Order Won’T Save Coal Mining Jobs". Bloomberg.Com, 2017. https://www.bloomberg.com/politics/articles/2017-03-27/trump-s-order-won-t-resurrect-jobs-of-miners-key to-his-campaign. Mine Safety and Health Administration. "Average Number Of Employees", 2015. United States Energy Information Administration. "Natural Gas Expected To Surpass Coal In Mix Of Fuel For U.S. Power Generation In 2016", 2016. Tsang, Linda, and Alexandra M. Wyatt. Clean Power Plan: Legal Background And Pending Litigation In West Virginia V. EPA. Ebook. Reprint, Congressional Research Service, 2017. https://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R44480.pdf. United States Energy Information Administration. "West Virginia State Energy Profile", 2017. United States Census Bureau. "State Exports From West Virginia", 2017. Cohen, Roger. "We Need ‘Somebody Spectacular’: Views From Trump Country". Nytimes.Com, 2016. https://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/11/opinion/sunday/we-need-somebody-spectacular-views-from-trump country.html?_r=0. Tabuchi, Hiroko. "Coal Jobs Prove Lucrative, But Not For Those In The Mines". nytimes.Com, 2017. https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/02/climate/coal-jobs-prove-lucrative-but-not-for-those-in-the-mines.html em_pos=large&emc =edit_dk_20170502&nl=dealbook&nlid=76920780&ref=headline&te=1&_r=1. Hillary Clinton CNN Democratic Presidential Town Hall. Video. Reprint, CNN, 2016. Clinton, Hillary. "Hillary Clinton’S Plan For Revitalizing Coal Communities". Hillaryclinton.Com, 2015. https://www.hillaryclinton.com/briefing/factsheets/2015/11/12/clinton-plan-to-revitalize-coal-communities Harold, Zack. "Revisioning Appalachia | Coalfield Development". Coalfield Development, 2017. http://coalfield-development.org/revisioning-appalachia/ . Louie, Edward P., and Joshua M. Pearce. "Retraining Investment For U.S. Transition From Coal To Solar Photovoltaic Employment". Energy Economics 57 (2016): 295-302. doi:10.1016/j.eneco.2016.05.016. Di Muzio, Tim, and Jesse Salah Ovadia. Energy, Capitalism And World Order: Towards A New Agenda In International Political Economy. Reprint, Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. Newell, Peter. Globalization And The Environment. Reprint, Cambridge: Polity Press, 2012.