Response from Eric Silverman on November 12, 2009

It seems likely to me that there are some situations where such arguments are based on a fallacious 'inappropriate appeal to authority,' but that there are other circumstances where the views of the founders are deeply relevant. For example, if the question is 'how should the first amendment be interpreted' the actual views of the people who wrote the first amendment seem extremely relevant. Naturally, even in this situation we can criticize the founders and argue that we should believe something different than they did. Of course, there are other times when such arguments seem quite irrelevant. For example, George Washington warned against maintaining a 'standing army' but the realities of the 21st century seem to make his view quite impractical.

What bothers me more about these types of arguments is that people who make them (IMO) are often incorrect about what the Founders believed or at least engage in very selective 'memory' concerning them.

Response from Thomas Pogge on August 14, 2009

There are various potentially relevant differences. First, interventions abroad are often more likely to be counterproductive. The foreign government committing or condoning the human rights violations may be so powerful that the attempt to stop it will cause much more death and destruction than is now occurring. By contrast, we can bring overwhelming force to bear domestically and thereby crush even well-armed crime gangs.Second, internationally we do not have unique authority to judge and to act. We are just one of many similarly placed agents possibly able to do something. These agents (the governments of powerful states) are likely to see things differently -- e.g. may support different factions in a country that's facing a violent power struggle. For example, some potential interveners may believe that the Sri Lankan all-out assault upon the Tamil Tigers was a crime that had to be stopped (because so many civilians were also hurt and killed). Other potential interveners may believe that the assault was the only way to end the civil war once and for all. If one intervenes to enforce its view of the situation, another may go in to prevent that. This illustrates that a general permission to intervene is likely to make matters worse by leading to altercations among interveners. Third, governments are often disingenuous. If we endorse the kind of principle you are entertaining (let governments use military force when doing so can stop the attempted murders of civilians in other countries who peacefully advocate for human rights), then governments are bound to appeal to this principle -- even in bad faith -- to justify interventions that are really motivated by rather more self-interested motives. You may recall those Iraqi weapons of mass destruction that were mendaciously appealed to to justify the invasion of Iraq. It's just as easy mendaciously to appeal to attempted murders supposedly taking place in a country one would like to invade.You will note that these arguments are predicated on the world as it is. They do not deny that the world you suggest is desirable: a world in which people abused by their government can hope for protection from abroad. But building such a more desirable world requires changes that go deeper than the adoption of a principle of parity. In particular, it requires a single effective decision mechanism that judges in the manner of a court -- that is, in a rule-based and transparent manner -- whether some particular country is so badly governed that military intervention is justified. In addition, it requires a powerful alliance of states committed to giving effect to those judgments. These two conditions seem far off.

Response from Eric Silverman on July 21, 2009

According to political philosophers like John Locke, we all receive certain benefits from government that make us better off than we would be in the 'state of nature.' As long as government makes us 'better off' on the whole over the 'state of nature' Locke says that it is a just situation.

So, taking a certain amount of money through taxation is a small harm compared to the benefits of living in a stable and civilized society. In contrast, if we were enslaved by a government that 'forced us to work,' we would be worse off than in the 'state of nature.' In the state of nature Locke believes we have our life, liberty, and property.... any government that significantly infringes on these rights is unjust. I should point out that Locke seemed to think that even the limited taxation of his day was a 'necessary evil.' It is unlikely that he would have approved of our current degree of taxation.... of course, we also get benefits that Locke never would have imagined.

Response from Lisa Cassidy on July 16, 2009

The immigration debate you mention reminds me of the reparations for slavery debate that happens on my side 'of the pond.' These are wonderfully interesting issue, but you are right: let's put aside the particulars of those debates to talk about justice, then pizza, and then I’ll swing back around to responsibility.

It is true that people alive today cannot be to blame for the evils of the British Empire or American slavery. This is why it seems strange to some that 'we' should pay the price for injustices committed long ago. However, history isn't a matter for the history books. The lingering effects of past historical injustices stay with us long after the occupiers have left or the shackles have been removed. One of these lingering effects is that people alive today may well continue to benefit from injustices committed hundreds of years ago - injustices which they deplore, but nevertheless continue to benefit them. For example, British citizens now could be said to enjoy a high standard of living today because of the colonial exploits of previous generations abroad. Similarly, it may be that the citizens of former colonies are now are impoverished because of the damage done then.

An analogy that might be helpful: think pizza. For a long time I ate entire pies of pizza, delicious pies which you made but were denied the chance to eat. Today I feel bad about being such a pig. So I now offer to treat you as an equal; you make your own pizza and eat it, while I will make and eat my own pizza. Each to his own, fairness all the way, no more pizza exploitation! But this hardly seems fair, as you will be in constant pizza-deficit relative to me. You will never catch up, no matter how may pies you try to make and eat. In fact, it may be really hard for you to make your own pizzas at all now, because so much of your ingredients and energy were already expended to benefit me - perhaps you hardly even know how to make a pizza that you yourself would like to eat. The remedy to achieve justice might be for me to now assist you: making pizza for you, donating part of my “fair” share to you, giving away ingredients, and the like. Therefore I think the only way to overcome the lingering effects of past injustices is to actively fight them.

Finally, I wanted to say that what philosopher Claudia Card wrote in her book Unnatural Lottery has helped me to think about ‘responsibility.’ We use the word ‘responsibility’ in different ways. People alive now are “not responsible” – to blame – for past injustices. But we can nevertheless “take responsibility” by looking ahead to a more just future.

Response from Nicholas D. Smith on July 9, 2009

Depends on your view of things, obviously. If you are committed to the view that all forms of coercion are immoral, then this would be the result. But I don't know why anyone would think that. I (justifiably) exercise forms of coercion over my children, because there is simply no responsible way to raise children otherwise. I would also be justified to exercise coercion against anyone who try to invade my home or injure a member of my family. Again, the alternative is considerably worse. Governments exercise coersion alright, but that does not by itself merit either approval or disapproval. The questions arise when we ask why they do so, how they do so, and to what extent do they do so, and at what costs to other valuable elements of social and political life.

Response from Nicholas D. Smith on July 9, 2009

This kind of objection often comes up, but I think is based upon a misunderstanding of what it means to be a "peer" in the required (legal) sense. One is my "peer" if one is a fellow citizen with all associated rights and responsibilities. That person doesn't have to be my equal in strength, or intelligence, or at basketball--he or she simply has to be my equal as a citizen. If their vote counts as much as mine, they're my peer.

In his Republic, Plato said (with evident contempt) that democracy was something like government by "bald-headed tinkers." (I resemble that!) But at the heart of democratic theory is the idea that all people are "created equal," by which the theorist cannot sensibly mean "equal in all things." The point is that we are all, or at least should be all, regarded as politically and legally equal. Other political theories--including especially Plato's--obviously reject this idea. Plato especially thought that political decisions--just like all medical decisions--should be made only by those with appropriate expertise. It is a little difficult to identify just how we would identify this expertise, however, how we could produce it in a class of rulers (or judges), and how we could avoid corruption of such a system.

Response from Nicholas D. Smith on July 9, 2009

The world would be better without some governments, I think!

Thomas Hobbes once famously remarked that human beings attempting to live outside the boundaries of goverment would live lives that were "nasty, poor, brutish, and short." I'm afraid that actually looking at places in the world where the local governments are extremely weak or ineffective confirms Hobbes's point. Even if such places are perhaps (and only sometimes) less of a menace to other countries than they might be with a bad (corrupt, or aggressive) government, it seems implausible to say that such places are better without any government than they would be if they had a good government. In most cases, even a bad government is better than no government at all--though there are limits as to how bad a government can get before it ends up being worse for the people living there than no government at all. But where we find extremely weak and ineffective governments in the world, we also always find massive human suffering. Governments can be the cause of terrible problems, it is true; but they can also be very effective in solving problems. I would certainly rather live in a well-governed place than one in which there was no government at all. Anarchy (not as a theory, but when an actuality) ain't pretty and ain't nice.

Response from Thomas Pogge on July 2, 2009

What you are citing is not the principle Rawls is actually defending as his second principle of justice, it is merely a principle he considers along the way. In its canonical formulation, the second principle reads: "Social and economic inequalities are to satisfy two conditions: first, they are to be attached to positions and offices open to all under conditions of fair equality of opportunity [the opportunity principle]; and second, they are to be to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged members of society [the difference principle]."

With the correct text substituted, your point about the least advantaged makes more sense. Still, what Rawls is demanding for the least advantaged is really in one sense more than a safety net. The word "safety net" suggests a certain minimum, perhaps some amount sufficient to meet one's basic needs. But Rawls is demanding the highest feasible bottom position, even if this turns out to be well above the level needed for economic security. So, even if there is a nice safety net for the least advantaged, the society still falls short of justice if it is possible to raise the lowest income even higher. And this makes your questions -- what do the rich get out of it? -- even more acute.

To answer your question: Rawls is theorizing so-to-speak before there are rich and poor, before society is built, before its basic rules are formulated. We can make this more vivid by imagining a few adults stranded together on an island and deliberating about how to set up the economy of their new society. How much economic inequality should the rules of their society allow? To this question, one natural answer is: no inequality at all. Let everyone be entitled to a share of the joint product that corresponds to his or her share of the labor contributed. So, if you did 20 percent of the work in a given year, say, then you should get 20 percent of the social product that year.

Rawls assumes that it may be possible to do better than this, better for everyone, by raising average productivity (output per hour worked). One obvious way to do this is to agree to prizes for the most productive workers. This gives everyone an incentive to try hard to be productive and, with most people working harder (than would be the case without prizes), the average output per hour is higher. We use some of the extra product to pay out the prizes and then distribute the remainder at an equal hourly rate -- and we find that even those who do not win a prize get more than they would have received without prizes.

To give a concrete example, suppose that, if the islanders organized their economy on a principle of equal hourly pay, then their total product would be 24,000 units of food and their labor time 12,000 hours -- so everyone would get paid two units per hour (= average productivity). Now suppose instead a prize were offered promising double pay to the most productive worker, and suppose this would result in a social product of 30,000 units and a total labor time of 10,000 (average productivity 3 units per hour). Since you are the most productive worker this year, you get paid as if you had contributed twice as many hours as you actually did contribute -- you get credited with 4000 hours, say, rather than the 2000 you actually worked. With 30,000 units available to pay for 10,000 hours of work plus your 2000 additional credited hours, each hour would fetch 2.5 units. You get paid 10,000 units, effectively giving you 5 units per hour. The others get 2.5 units per hour, which is still more than everyone would get if there were no prizes at all.

There are of course infinitely many ways of setting up such a prize system that, by rewarding the more productive, raises average productivity. Which of the many institutional design options should be chosen? Rawls answers this questions in two steps. In the first step, he argues that we should consider only those rule systems that raise everyone's hourly pay above what it would be under the equal-pay system (what you are quoting reflects this step). In the second step he then argues that we should choose that rule system under which the lowest raise (over the equal-pay system) is as high as possible -- or, in terms of prizes, Rawls argues in the second step that one should design the prize system in such a way that the hourly pay of those who win no prize is as high as possible.

We can now adjust your question in two ways. First, you can ask whether Rawls's proposal may not still be shortchanging the most productive (the richest under his scheme). Perhaps they get paid twice as much as the least productive even while they are really four times as productive. If this is so, do the more productive not deserve to be paid four times as much? Rawls's answer is that the capacity for greater productivity typically depends on factors (such a natural talents, good parents) for which the more productive can claim no credit, and that the more productive therefore should receive greater rewards only insofar as this also benefits the less productive. (But is there not, you may ask back, such as thing as culpable laziness?)

Second, you can ask why, in our society, where the rich have very much more than they would have in a Rawlsian society, the rich should accept the transition to a Rawlsian society. They have no prudential reason to accept this transition (no more than slaveholders did to accept the abolition of slavery). But if the existing rewards are unjustly excessive, then they do have a moral reason to help scale them back (just as slaveholders had a moral reason to support abolition).

Response from Peter S. Fosl on June 26, 2009

No and yes. Historically, the idea of toleration developed along side streams of philosophical scrutiny of religious belief that suggested, rightly I think, that there's just not very good reason for zealous commitment to religious beliefs. So, while a zealot may, as you describe it, be exceedingly confident or dogmatic in his or her belief, there's no sound justification for doing so. In this sense, strains of modern skepticism have tempered religious belief in the form of what early modern thinkers called "enthusiasm." But, on the other hand, there are many ways of holding a belief "strongly." There are, one might say, ways of holding religious beliefs strongly that are consistent with tolerance and ways of holding beliefs strongly that are inconsistent. Tolerance itself commonly suggests that contrary views are considered wrong and even, perhaps, obnoxious. So, analogously, we speak of a body's capacity to tolerate a toxin or to tolerate the cold, etc. So, just as we might speak of a person who is able to tolerate extremely cold temperatures, we might meaningfully speak of someone with the capacity to tolerate views with which he or she is in profound disagreement. Furthermore, tolerance is ultimately about conduct. One might believe very strongly that atheists are going to be damned but still not think that the state or anyone else ought to coerce them to become religious believers. I think this has also been one of the inheritances of early modernity. Early modern religious conflict became so unpleasant to people that simply as a practical matter they agreed that society is better off tolerating religious difference than trying to enforce uniformity. Part of that agreement was that while believers in a given dogma would not attempt to enforce their beliefs upon others, others would not enforce contrary beliefs upon them. So, for many the network of thinking surrounding the cultivation of tolerance did temper religious belief; and for others it created a space where it remained possible to hold strong religious beliefs but not enforce those beliefs where others are concerned.

Response from Thomas Pogge on June 3, 2009

Yes. Clear cases are ones where the agent has strong reasons to believe that (1) the law is unjust, (2) compliance would cause substantial harm, and (3) non-compliance would neither (3a) lose much greater benefits, nor (3b) cause harm of comparable magnitude or (3c) unreasonable cost upon the agent. The Nazi period offers examples. Justice required German citizens in typical circumstances not to obey a law that mandated that they report Jews to the authorities for internment in concentration camps. This is so because German citizens knew, or could and should have known, that (1) the internment of Jews (and others) was unjust, (2) reporting a non-interned Jew to the authorities was very likely to harm this person greatly, (3a) the internment of the person reported would not bring any substantial benefit, (3b) the non-internment of the person would cause no harm comparable to the harm of internment, and (3c) not reporting a Jew was typically without risk to the agent (at least when one could plausibly plead ignorance).