Original Post:
It is popular to pretend to argue using solecisms and non sequiturs. You’ve done precisely that! Wollstonecraft and George? What’s the matter? Marx and Rawls too contentious for you?
“Justice is a strong word, a powerful one, even if it’s a difficult one to define.”
Stage setting, capital! We’re biting our nails in anticipation of the definition of justice. Oh, the disappointment! No recap of Plato’s Republic or Aristotle’s Ethics, no mention of Hobbes or Kant or Mill or even the unerring and almighty Rawls. No, nothing of the sort! Only the mere assertion, the mere conflation of justice with entitlement.
Are there reasons to prefer Rawls to anyone else? Evidently not! ‘Assert it and it shall be so!’ seems to be the mantra of every good liberal since liberalism parted ways with Mill (this is, of course, taking liberalism in its syndromic sense, p. 39).
“This is why no one argues against justice. Instead, those who would resist redistribution argue instead against ‘entitlement’.”
Wow! An argument worthy of the shameless sophist Ben Burgis, who even wrote a book for sequacious lemmings like himself that you will no doubt find mesmerizing. But let us no longer beat around the bush: Are slogans the best you got? Is your straw-man wearing an invisibility cloak? Can the old bait-and-switch fallacy really be so hidden from your penetrating gaze?
P1: Justice is a strong word
P2: This is why no one argues against justice
C: Justice = entitlement (= redistribution)
Did we get that right? Or is there another corollary lurking in this non sequitur?
“The worst form of inequality is to try to make unequal things equal” alleges someone on behalf of Aristotle. But what a prig! Surely, as all good liberals know, Cherokee Parks is entitled to just as much compensation as a Jordan or a Bryant or a James. But enough of such trivialities! Nozick worked out this line of argument back in the 70’s. Still, we wonder, has there been a satisfactory rebuttal? Do you, in your enlightened state, have a satisfactory rebuttal to Mr. Nozick? Maybe you can borrow one from Sandel and explain the basis of its validity to us.
The basis, you see, because we are, in fact, whether or not you acknowledge it or are even aware of it, debating first principles. So make them plain! Stop hiding behind slogans and straw-men! To the things themselves! as the phenomenologists used to say, back when there were phenomenologists.
Ignoratio elenchi is a fallacy that arises due to ignorance of the nature of refutation. Remember, in Book IV of Aristotle’s Metaphysics, when he refutes the relativism of Protagoras? That, mon frère, is how you make an argument. To be sure, it all flows so very naturally from the Organon, but what of this fact? It only reinforces my point: first principles form the basis of every debate.
So, again, we implore you, make them plain! Or don’t, what do we care if you wallow in sophistry?
“Isn’t a person demanding justice at the same time asserting they are entitled to it?”
Hmmm…let’s ponder this gem for a moment. Tell us, what does “it” refer to in this sentence? Is “it” nothing less than this mysterious “justice”? Only a postmodern could think otherwise! So, substituting, we will instead write, “Isn’t a person demanding justice at the same time asserting they are entitled to justice?”
Do you see? Not yet? Let us make it plain. All this sentence amounts to saying is that demanding something (in this case, justice) is the same as making a claim of entitlement to something (in this case, justice).
Got it? Not yet? Let us make it even more plain. Saying that “demanding” something is “at the same time asserting” that one is “entitled” to something, though at least as dubious, IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM AND UNRELATED TO the claim that justice equals entitlement. For that is all this is, a mere claim, a mere assertion, a mere conflation of justice with entitlement.
But wait, there’s more:
“Because in reality every voter wants the government’s help to make a living.”
Even we, in our unbounded arrogance, find it hard not to blush at such a statement. Surely, every voter wants the government to give them donuts and a slinky, too. Every voter, nay, every person is the same: infinitely malleable to liberal sentiments.
And, to top it all off, we get Keynesianism in the form of a thought experiment more profound, but no less absurd, than Schrodinger's cat. Are thought experiments valid forms of argument? Let’s suppose they are. Try this one on for size:
“Let us begin with a short political story. You live in a small village with a crime problem. Vandals roam the village, stealing and destroying people’s property. For whatever reason, no one seems to be doing anything about the problem. So one day, you and your family convene and decide to put a stop to it. You take your guns and go out looking for the vandals. Periodically, you catch one of them, take him back to your house at gunpoint, and proceed to lock him in the basement. You provide the vandals with food so they don’t starve, but you plan to keep them locked in the basement for a few years to teach them a lesson.
After you’ve been operating in this way for a few weeks, you decide to make the rounds of the neighborhood. Starting with your next door neighbor, you knock on the door and explain your anti-crime program. “You’ve noticed the reduction in crime in the last few weeks, haven’t you?” you ask. Your neighbor nods. “Well, that is thanks to me. I’ve been locking vandals in my basement.” Noting the wary look on your neighbor’s face, you continue. “Anyway, the reason I’m here is that it’s come time to collect your contribution to the crime prevention fund. Naturally, I can’t provide my services for free. Your bill for the month is $100.” You extend your hand expectantly.
When your neighbor stares at you incredulously, making no apparent move to hand over the money, you explain patiently that, should he refuse to pay you the required amount, you will unfortunately have to label him a criminal, at which point he too will be subject to long-term confinement in your basement, along with the aforementioned vandals. Indicating the pistol at your hip, you note that you are prepared to take him by force if necessary.
Supposing you take this tack with all of your neighbors, what sort of reception could you generally expect? Would most of your neighbors cheerfully give over their assigned share of the costs of crime prevention? Or would they, perhaps, give over the money after grudgingly admitting their obligation to you?
Neither of these reactions is likely. In all probability, you would observe the following. First, almost none of your neighbors would take themselves to owe you anything. While some might pay up for fear of being locked in your basement, and a few might pay up out of hostility toward the vandals, almost none would consider themselves duty bound to do so, and those who refused to pay would more likely be praised than condemned for standing up to you.
Second, most would consider your actions outrageous. Your demands for payment would be seen as naked extortion, and your confinement of those who refused to pay you would be condemned as kidnaping. The very outrageousness of your conduct, combined with your deluded presumption that the rest of the village would recognize an obligation to support you, would doubtless cause many to question your sanity.
Now, what does this story have to do with political philosophy? In the story, you behaved like a rudimentary government. Admittedly, you did not take on all the functions of a typical, modern state. But you assumed two of its most central and seemingly essential roles: you punished people who harm others or violate others’ rights, and you collected non-voluntary contributions from the public to finance your activities. The government’s ways of carrying out these activities are referred to, respectively, as the criminal justice system and the taxation system. Your ways of carrying out these activities are referred to as kidnaping and extortion.
On the face of it, your activities seem to be of the same kind as those of a government. But while most governments’ activities are regarded as legitimate, yours would be regarded as outrageous. Most people consider themselves obligated to pay their taxes, and consider punishment of tax evaders both desirable and within the rights of the state. But if you behaved as described in the hypothetical scenario, most people would consider themselves under no obligation to pay you, and would find your kidnapping of those who failed to pay reprehensible. So, despite the apparent similarities, most people’s evaluation of the government’s activities differs dramatically from our evaluation of your activities in the story.
This illustrates a general feature of our attitudes toward government. Governments are considered to be ethically permitted to do things that no non-governmental person or organization may do. At the same time, individuals are considered to have obligations to their own governments reaching beyond the obligations they have towards non-governmental persons or organizations, even when those non-governmental agents behave in ways similar to a government. This is not simply a point about the law, nor is it a point about what sorts of actions one can get away with. The point, rather, is that the ethical judgments most of us make differentiate sharply between governmental and non-governmental actions. Acts that would be considered unjust or morally unacceptable when performed by non-governmental agents will often be considered perfectly all right, even praiseworthy, when performed by governmental agents. Hereafter, I shall, unless otherwise specified, always use “obligation” to refer to ethical obligations, rather than merely legal obligations; similarly for “rights.”
The question is, why? Why do we accord this special moral status to governments? And are we justified in so doing? It is these questions that I address under the heading of “the problem of political authority.”” (from Michael Huemer, The Problem of Political Authority)