The Tao of Strategy


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The is around the first third of an unpublished article that I wrote in 1996. It relates to a discussion on another thread, "What is the best thing a philosopher can do to further mankind?" . I have started a new thread because of the length of this piece.

This is an uncorrected draft without italics and other formatting.

Ghs

THE TAO OF STRATEGY

AND OTHER REFLECTIONS ON THE LIBERTARIAN MOVEMENT

by George H. Smith

6/19/96

Introduction

The word "strategy," which derives from the Greek word for "office of a general," originally referred to the art of military command "as applied to the overall planning and conduct of large-scale combat operations." It is now used in a broader sense to mean the "art or skill of using stratagems in politics, business, courtship, and the like." (It is interesting to note that "stratagem" is defined as a maneuver "designed to deceive or surprise an enemy" and as "a deception.") (The American Heritage Dictionary.)

Quoting dictionary definitions will not take us far in a discussion of strategy, but the connotations of this word do raise some interesting issues. Why do we typically speak of a "strategies" to achieve a free society, rather than "plans," "procedures," and the like? Possibly because "strategy" sounds more impressive, more formidable, than "plan." Or possibly because the formulation of "plans" to change society sounds suspiciously like "social planning." Few libertarians are comfortable with the idea of social planning, but what is strategic theory, in the final analysis, except a kind of social engineering? The strategist has a theory of social causation: put these causes in place, he argues, and predictable effects should follow.

But between the seeming necessity of cause and effect, there stands the individual and his subjective valuations. This unpredictable creature renders foolish an army of social planners and their technocrats, and he threatens to render equally foolish the libertarian strategist who claims to know, with virtual certainty, that his plan will achieve specific results by a particular time. Yet this kind of specificity is implied in the very notion of strategy, which cannot apply to an indeterminate goal, i.e., a goal that is not known in advance.

Military strategy presupposes a tolerably clear idea of what would constitute success on the battlefield, e.g., the destruction, surrender or retreat of the enemy. At some time and in some place these goals will be achieved or they will not, and the results (in most cases) will be visible for all to see. There exists a criterion, in other words, by which the general can evaluate success and failure; and, having committed to a particular strategy, the general himself is open to evaluation by others.

If a general loses one battle after another but insists that he is winning the war "in the long run," his claim would be met with extreme skepticism. Nor would this perennial loser be taken seriously if he explained away each of his defeats: he would have won the battle if only the weather had been better or the enemy had not been so formidable. Nor would he gain credibility if he claimed that, despite his many defeats, he did better than any other general could have done, or that his country is still better off than it would have been without him. Nor would he fare better if, in order to win a minor skirmish here and there, he left his homeland undefended and allowed it to be overrun by the enemy. Obvious parallels suggest themselves in the realm of libertarian strategy.

Before proceeding, I should clarify my own views about political strategy. In the early eighties, when I (along with Wendy McElroy and Carl Watner) founded The Voluntaryist, I wrote a number of articles that were critical of strategies based on electoral politics. My primary criticisms, it should be noted, were directed against libertarian anarchists, not against those minarchists who believe in limited government. My views have not changed. Although I regard political action as an ineffective strategy for all libertarians, I do not think it is inconsistent with our general principles -- only with the anarchist interpretation of those principles.

Also, contrary to some of my critics, I have never condemned political activity as "immoral," nor have I ever suggested that political libertarians are motivated by a lust for power. Such high-handed pronouncements are absurdly pretentious and foreign to my way of thinking. My arguments were concerned not with the intentions of political libertarians but with the unintended consequences of their actions, which, in my view, tend to reinforce the legitimacy of the State. My critique was based on an institutional analysis of the State. Just as we use our institutional analysis of the market to predict the general outcome and unintended consequences of specific economic policies, so we can use our institutional analysis of the State to predict the general outcome and unintended consequences of strategic policies.

I don't wish to revisit the arguments for and against political action, except insofar as those arguments are relevant to a more comprehensive theory of strategy. Nor is it my intention, despite my polemical inclinations, to render dogmatic judgments about the desirability of one strategic vision over another.

Having grown more ecumenical with age, I look forward to the day when libertarians stop viewing other libertarians as the enemy, who should be denounced and thrashed for their deviationist views on strategy. By this I do not mean that libertarians should try to achieve a watered-down consensus or stop arguing with each other. On the contrary, vigorous internal debate is essential to the vitality of every ideological movement, including our own. But I do think that arguments should promote intellectual progress within the movement and a deeper understanding of our traditions, successes, failures and prospects. Let the arguments continue, certainly, but let's also try to find whatever may be of value in opposing arguments and frankly discuss the weak spots in our own. Only through this process of give and take can we gain a more comprehensive view of strategic issues and increase the prospects for a free society. I would rather be free than right, and so, I suspect, would most other libertarians.

Strategic Taoism

Like many Chinese words, Tao (the Way) is rich in connotations. It can refer to following one's own nature or to a harmonious cooperation among different people. This is a spontaneous order, one that arises without planning or coercion. These idea are expressed in the Tao Te Ching, the most libertarian of ancient texts.

If you want to be a great leader,

you must learn to follow the Tao.

Stop trying to control,

Let go of fixed plans and concepts,

and the world will govern itself..

The more prohibitions you have,

the less virtuous people will be.

The more weapons you have,

the less secure people will be.

The more subsidies you have,

the less self-reliant people will be.

Therefore the Master says:

I let go of the law,

and people become honest.

I let go of economics,

and people become prosperous.

I let go of religion,

and people become serene.

I let go of all desire for the common good,

and the good becomes common as grass.

Strategic Taoism, or the negative way, favors the spontaneous development of creative strategies within the libertarian movement. By this I do not mean a nebulous "feel good" approach, nor am I suggesting that a free society will somehow spring into existence without rigorous thought and strenuous effort. What I mean is that strategic thinking, which is a form of practical wisdom, is highly contextual and should incorporate the diverse talents and desires of individuals.

For the purpose of analysis, we can contrast strategic Taoism with another approach, namely, the positive way of strategic Confucianism. (Hereafter I shall drop the qualifier "strategic" and refer to these approaches simply as "Taoism" and "Confucianism." Although these strategic models are loosely based on their traditional counterparts, I interpret and adapt them freely, laying no claim to philosophical accuracy. They are intended merely to serve as ideal types, or stylized representations, of different strategic visions.)

In calling Confucianism "the positive way," I mean that it offers specific plans to achieve a free society. These typically involve hierarchical organizations and centrally- directed campaigns. Although the Confucianist does not disparage self-development and individual initiative, she tends to see these as non-strategies. A true strategy, according to the Confucianist, must be planned and consciously coordinated.

Although Taoism and Confucianism do not always conflict, these ideal types allow us to highlight some significant differences in perspective and attitude. For example, although both strategies believe in education, they differ over the nature and purpose of that education. The Confucianist has a quantitative view, measuring the success of an educational campaign in terms of the number of people that libertarians are able to influence. The Taoist, in contrast, stresses educational quality, not numbers. He believes that the thorough education of a few people is of greater strategic value than the superficial education of many people.

Taoism is ultimately a kind of strategic individualism. Whereas Confucianism favors a grand, organized strategy in which all libertarians can participate, Taoism is more a way of life in which personal development is merged with social and political change. Taoism can accommodate a wide range of different plans. These plans adjust to each other and form a coherent movement largely by spontaneous methods, rather than by conscious design. Taoism leads to a libertarian movement that is at once harmonious and individualistic. It encourages unity in diversity.

Perhaps the most valuable feature of strategic Taoism is its stress on creativity. Fully aware that the benefits of freedom cannot be predicted or foreseen, it taps into the creative energy of every libertarian by stimulating original ideas and perspectives. Activities within the movement (internal debates, supper clubs, etc.) are vital to the success of libertarianism, largely because we don't know what will emerge from them. By generating excitement, they make the libertarian movement an interesting place to be, even when it isn't moving anywhere.

Strategic Taoism makes few predictions and no promises about the future of freedom. Working from the classical Stoic distinction between that which is within our control (the internal) and that which is not (the external), it counsels that we should focus on the internal and leave the external to take care of itself. Thus Taoism embraces neither optimism nor pessimism, but regards both as irrelevant.

Place a crystal ball in front of the libertarian Taoist in which he can see the future with infallible certainty. If the future of freedom is bright, he will continue on his present course. But if the future of freedom is dismal, he will also continue on his present course. The Taoist will not allow the future, which he cannot control, to dictate his ideals and actions, which he can control. In embracing the ideal of a free society, he knows that it may never be realized, for such is the nature of every ideal. He upholds freedom, not for the sake of a future that does not exist, but for the sake of the ideal itself, as it presently exists (as moral liberty) within himself and other libertarians. Knowing that freedom may eventually die, the Taoist will never forsake it, just as he will not forsake his loved ones because he knows that they too will eventually die.

Attentive readers may have noticed that on several occasions I have distinguished between freedom and liberty. Confucianism, I believe, concentrates on political freedom, whereas Taoism is primarily concerned with moral liberty. These are somewhat different (though by no means incompatible) goals, which is why the conflict between Confucianism and Taoism is sometimes more apparent than real. I shall now explore this issue in more detail.

Freedom and Liberty

We may distinguish two fundamental goals for libertarians: freedom and liberty. (These terms are often used interchangeably, but I differentiate between them for the purpose of conceptual analysis, without suggesting that others should do likewise.)

Freedom -- or negative freedom, as it is sometimes called -- denotes the absence of legalized coercion; it exists to the degree that we can pursue noninvasive activities without governmental interference. This is also called political freedom, because it pertains to the relationship between the individual and government.

Liberty, in contrast, refers to freedom that rests on the moral foundation of individual rights. Liberty, therefore, is a kind of freedom, but it involves more than the mere absence of coercion. Liberty is freedom that is supported by a public belief in the principle of self-sovereignty, or -- as it has been variously termed in libertarian history -- self-proprietorship, property in one's person, self-ownership, moral autonomy, and inalienable rights.

Similar distinctions have been made by previous philosophers. For example, what Hegel calls "subjective freedom" roughly corresponds to what I mean by "liberty," and his use of "objective freedom" is similar to my use of "freedom." By subjective freedom, Hegel means inner awareness or recognition of the moral principle; by objective (or substantial) freedom, he means the external manifestation of freedom in social and political institutions, which can develop "without personal insight and will." Subjective freedom, on the other hand, "is realized only in the individual [and] constitutes the reflection of the individual in his own conscience."

Similarly, Immanuel Kant distinguished the sphere of justice (or right) from the sphere of ethics. Justice pertains only to external actions; I can act justly towards another (i.e., I can respect his rights) even though "his freedom is entirely indifferent to me, or even though I wished in my heart to infringe it." Ethics, in contrast, "imposes upon me the obligation to make the fulfillment of right a maxim of my conduct."

This distinction between freedom and liberty has played a prominent role throughout the history of libertarian thought, though it has not always been expressed in these terms. When the British Parliament repealed all import duties on the American colonies (except the tax on tea, which was reduced by two-thirds), Parliament also reaffirmed its sovereign right of taxation. American radicals spurned this conciliatory gesture, because the freedom from taxation was granted to them by permission, not by right. This rolling back of taxes, though it increased the freedom of Americans, was widely seen as a threat to their liberty. If Americans voluntarily complied with the reduced tax on tea, they would implicitly acknowledge the principle of Parliamentary sovereignty and would thereby lose the ideological war.

Another example occurred in the realm of religious liberty. Toleration was regarded by Thomas Paine and other libertarians as a counterfeit liberty, because governments permitted religious freedom as a matter of policy, not as a matter of justice. But what a government gives a government can also take away. Paine admired the French Constitution because it established "liberty of conscience" as an absolute right, in contradistinction to the contingent freedom of toleration.

A similar issue emerged in the American antislavery movement. When it was proposed that abolitionists should purchase slaves and set them free, William Lloyd Garrison opposed this strategy. Any purchase of slaves implicitly sanctions slaveholding, because it treats the master as a legitimate owner of the slave, whom he then has the right to sell. This strategy, reasoned Garrison, might achieve freedom for some, but it would endanger the liberty of all by undercutting the principle of self-ownership, which was fundamental to the abolitionist movement.

Many similar examples could be given to illustrate the possible conflict between freedom and liberty. There is nothing libertarian per se in working for particular freedoms (e.g., by repealing laws) unless our struggle is based on the moral principle of self-sovereignty. Indeed, if we follow the reasoning of our libertarian ancestors, an increase in freedom, when contingent on the will of government, can actually harm the cause of liberty, because it may strengthen the moral authority of government to legislate in that realm.

Historically, the distinction between freedom and liberty (however expressed) has served as an analytic tool for libertarians in matters of strategy and tactics, and I shall follow their lead.

"Strategy" pertains to the overall objectives of a campaign (winning the war), while "tactics" refers to securing those objectives (winning battles). A strategy, which deals with general principles, cannot possibly determine every detail of tactics. A libertarian strategy cannot specify what will (probably) work in every situation, first, because the details of every situation cannot be foreseen; and, second, because libertarians vary widely in their knowledge, skills and interests.

The primary function of strategic principles, in my judgment, is not to determine the tactical decisions of libertarians, but to establish parameters in which those decisions can be made. The influence of strategy on tactics is essentially negative. Libertarian strategy limits the range of our tactical plans, disqualifying any that prove inconsistent with its principles, but it cannot establish the precise content of those plans. This is what I have previously described as the negative way of Taoism.

I maintain that libertarians have two primary strategic objectives: (1) to establish liberty and (2) to establish freedom.

(1) Liberty is based on the moral right of self-sovereignty, and our strategy should aim to achieve public recognition of this principle. In other words, we should try to convert as many people as possible to our ideology. The notion of "converting" people is distasteful to some libertarians, who advocate rational persuasion instead. But these goals are not necessarily incompatible. To persuade is to change a belief, whereas to convert is to change a belief system, or ideology. (By "ideology" I mean any value-based belief system).

Conversion can be effected by reasoned arguments, but it can be brought about by other means as well. I dare say that many (perhaps most) of us were converted to libertarianism before we were fully persuaded by its arguments. Art, for example, is a powerful instrument of conversion, as illustrated by the tremendous influence of Atlas Shrugged and other novels by Ayn Rand. Many people, after reading Rand, are effectively converted to the value of self-sovereignty; indeed, it is this experience that motivates them to study libertarian arguments in more detail.

Many other things can influence conversion: a charismatic leader (Gandhi), authority figures (parents who instill libertarian values in their children), a religious text (the Tao Te Ching, by Lao Tzu), a mystical experience, and so forth. . In such cases an appreciation for the "beauty" of liberty often occurs before a person has acquired detailed information about libertarianism or the arguments in its favor. This passional commitment creates a lasting, reflective interest in liberty, which then stimulates additional study and investigation. (A similar point was made by Adam Smith when he noted that many intellectuals are initially attracted to liberty because of its aesthetic appeal as an integrated theoretical system. Only after their interest is kindled in this way do they embark on further studies and gain understanding about the role of freedom in maximizing economic efficiency and prosperity.)

Converting people to liberty is a noble and worthwhile goal, but how many we can convert and how quickly we can convert them are highly problematical issues. Around twenty-five years ago a libertarian writer seriously proposed what I call the "checkerboard model" of strategy. If you place one grain of sand on the first square of a checkerboard, two on the next square, four on the next, eight on the next, and so on, doubling the number of grains until you reach the sixty-fourth square, you will end up with something like the Sahara desert. According to our master-strategist, if you can only convert two of your friends to liberty, and each of them can convert two of their friends, and so on -- well, I don't recall his figures, but before long we end up with a planet-full of libertarians. (One problem with this model is its assumption that libertarians have friends.)

My expectations are less optimistic, perhaps even pessimistic. I suspect that the number of hard-core libertarians will always remain small, relative to the overall population. I say this not because I think there is anything wrong with our theory or with our theorists, but because I think the vast majority of people are unwilling and/or unable to think theoretically. (In support of this, I appeal to the testimony of history and everyday experience.) Libertarianism is based on high-level abstractions in ethics, economics, and other spheres; these simply cannot be understood without a good deal of reading and reflection. This is hard work which most people naturally shun. As Bertrand Russell once observed: Most people would rather die than think; in fact, many do.

In short, after advancing a few squares on the strategic checkerboard, I fear that we will run smack into an impenetrable wall of indifference, hostility and stupidity. Of course, we cannot possibly know how many potential converts are out there, where they can be found, and how long it will take to reach them. Meanwhile, as we cultivate the lovely ideal of self-sovereignty, the ugly reality of state-sovereignty stares us in the face, meets us at every turn, and grows uglier every day. The pursuit of moral liberty, therefore, is not enough. We must also try to wrest freedom from the state and defend it, even if it is not generally respected as a moral right. This brings us to our second strategic objective.

(2) Freedom, as mentioned previously, refers to the absence of governmental coercion. We are free to the extent that government leaves us alone to dispose of our lives, labor and property as we see fit, so long as we respect the rights of others. This external or negative freedom is not necessarily linked to the internal and positive liberty of self-sovereignty, but depends solely on the silence of the laws.

Freedom can (and frequently does) exist without liberty. A government can reduce or abolish a tax, thereby increasing freedom, while retaining the sovereign power to tax, thereby violating liberty. A conservative or liberal can advocate drug legalization on purely utilitarian grounds (prison overcrowding, increased crime, etc.), thereby increasing freedom, while denying the moral autonomy of the addict, thereby opposing liberty.

Although freedom lacks the moral grandeur of liberty, it is often of greater practical significance. Liberty at present is an ideal, but political power is a brute fact, which is embodied in that complex and massive institution called the State. Merely to increase the number of libertarians will not in itself constitute an effective brake on State power, for, as Mosca pointed out, the State (or ruling class) is an organized minority vis a vis society, which is an unorganized majority. The State can coordinate its actions, apply violence selectively and systematically, and so intimidate most people, who will tend to comply from fear that they may be the next victims.

Libertarians and others have long grappled with the problem of how to restrain and reduce the power of government. This requires more than the dissemination of our ideology, because we are fighting against an institution of power, not merely an ideology of power. We can doubtless win every argument with the State hands down, but unfortunately the State is interested in obedience, not in argument, and it has the power to enforce that obedience. Power respects nothing but power; it is contemptuous of ideas and arguments.

Liberty, as we have seen, relies on the ideological strategies of persuasion and conversion. But since the State is not likely to be argued out of existence, libertarians must develop and employ institutional strategies to fight it. Political freedom is the objective of these strategies. Here we are concerned only with the what (the reality of freedom), not with the why (the moral reasons, or lack of them, for that freedom.)

...

End of excerpt

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George,

I appreciate your point that there can be no real strategy when a problem is ill-defined; i.e., one might not recognize the goal state on attaining it, and one cannot know in advance what all of the possible means leading toward that goal state might be.

By the way, Laozi (Lao Tzu) is not the author's name. It just means "The Old Master."

Robert Campbell

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A lot of good thoughts as usual George, but I don't accept the dichotomies.

I agree we can't know whether we'll have liberty or not in the long-run, and that we ought to act as if we can, but as part of that action, I think we need to ask what causal factors can bring about such change and seek to engineer society (the horror!) toward that end. This does not mean what probably grates on you as "Confucianism" in what I'm saying. Obviously we can't and shouldn't use coercive tactics to bring about freedom, and to set up organizations that preclude creative thought is a recipe for failure. But that doesn't mean we can't think strategically and create the best possible plans we can and advocate others to jump on board.

Really I think your anarchism biases you against what is the only possible means to liberty: unity. We have to have unity around the principles of liberty, and if we don't, then those who have unity around opposite premises must win. You do not seem to want unity because you seem to think that necessarily implies authoritarian hierarchies. In some sense, it may, in the sense that if 80% of libertarians are unified around a certain purpose, then the 20% are going to feel in some sense intimidated or left out.

We have to unify, and in order to do that, we need to focus on areas of fundamental difference and sort them out. Anarchy and minarchy are at radical odds, they can't both be right (I argue that they are both wrong), and they imply opposite political strategies, as you identify. I agree with you that if anarchism is correct, then you can't exercise the state apparatus in order to effect it. And yet if minarchism is correct, then you must if you want to obtain liberty. Relative to minarchy, anarchy leads to apathy and disengagement. Relative to anarchy, minarchy leads to further strengthening the State. This contradiction alone is a serious matter.

Shayne

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I think that's a crucial distinction that George makes between liberty and freedom, and I do not see it as a dichotomy.

In essence, you can't have one without the other.

I share his lack of optimism about reaching a critical mass of devotees; in the end, and right now, it may be all that can be done is to be a powerful minority influencing the "indifferent, hostile, and stupid" to think. And putting the brakes upon their excesses.

Yes, unity - a common bond and purpose - is critical, for the adherents to liberty, as well as to disinterested onlookers. Does that not require that we clearly and always see the bigger picture that binds us, and leave aside the lesser differences?

Again, there's no dichotomy, as Shayne observes, between freedom and force: such individuals will forever gravitate towards each other.

A fine essay, (bringing in Taoism was a master-stroke) which brings to mind Aristotle's "I have gained this from philosophy: that I do without being commanded what others do only from fear of the law."

Tony

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I think that's a crucial distinction that George makes between liberty and freedom, and I do not see it as a dichotomy.

In essence, you can't have one without the other.

I share his lack of optimism about reaching a critical mass of devotees; in the end, and right now, it may be all that can be done is to be a powerful minority influencing the "indifferent, hostile, and stupid" to think. And putting the brakes upon their excesses.

Yes, unity - a common bond and purpose - is critical, for the adherents to liberty, as well as to disinterested onlookers. Does that not require that we clearly and always see the bigger picture that binds us, and leave aside the lesser differences?

Again, there's no dichotomy, as Shayne observes, between freedom and force: such individuals will forever gravitate towards each other.

A fine essay, (bringing in Taoism was a master-stroke) which brings to mind Aristotle's "I have gained this from philosophy: that I do without being commanded what others do only from fear of the law."

Tony

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A lot of good thoughts as usual George, but I don't accept the dichotomies.

I agree we can't know whether we'll have liberty or not in the long-run, and that we ought to act as if we can, but as part of that action, I think we need to ask what causal factors can bring about such change and seek to engineer society (the horror!) toward that end. This does not mean what probably grates on you as "Confucianism" in what I'm saying. Obviously we can't and shouldn't use coercive tactics to bring about freedom, and to set up organizations that preclude creative thought is a recipe for failure. But that doesn't mean we can't think strategically and create the best possible plans we can and advocate others to jump on board.

Really I think your anarchism biases you against what is the only possible means to liberty: unity. We have to have unity around the principles of liberty, and if we don't, then those who have unity around opposite premises must win. You do not seem to want unity because you seem to think that necessarily implies authoritarian hierarchies. In some sense, it may, in the sense that if 80% of libertarians are unified around a certain purpose, then the 20% are going to feel in some sense intimidated or left out.

We have to unify, and in order to do that, we need to focus on areas of fundamental difference and sort them out. Anarchy and minarchy are at radical odds, they can't both be right (I argue that they are both wrong), and they imply opposite political strategies, as you identify. I agree with you that if anarchism is correct, then you can't exercise the state apparatus in order to effect it. And yet if minarchism is correct, then you must if you want to obtain liberty. Relative to minarchy, anarchy leads to apathy and disengagement. Relative to anarchy, minarchy leads to further strengthening the State. This contradiction alone is a serious matter.

Shayne

"Freedom" and "liberty," as I used the terms in a stipulative and rather idiosyncratic manner, do not constitute a "dichotomy." Liberty is freedom with a moral foundation.

As I explain later in the essay (the posted portion is less than half of the original), liberty depends primarily on individual efforts, whereas freedom relies more on institutions. The latter is illustrated in the notion of a free press and organized religion as "intermediate institutions" that function as buffers between the government and individuals. For the most part, neither institution consistently defends freedom on moral grounds, so they do not defend "liberty" in my sense of the term. Nevertheless, both institutions have sometimes defended "freedom" in their particular spheres. (The notion of "intermediate institutions," as discussed by Burke, Tocqueville, and similar thinkers, has not received the attention it deserves from libertarians.)

My anarchistic perspective doesn't have much to do with the posted essay, except that it makes me skeptical of purely political strategies. A more complete explanation of my early thinking on this matter can be found in my Party Dialogue, which was first presented as a talk at the Orange County Libertarian Supper Club in 1980.

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I neglected to comment on the following in my first reply:

You do not seem to want unity because you seem to think that necessarily implies authoritarian hierarchies. In some sense, it may, in the sense that if 80% of libertarians are unified around a certain purpose, then the 20% are going to feel in some sense intimidated or left out.

I don't think this at all, and I don't know how you got the idea from my article.

We have to unify, and in order to do that, we need to focus on areas of fundamental difference and sort them out. Anarchy and minarchy are at radical odds, they can't both be right (I argue that they are both wrong), and they imply opposite political strategies, as you identify. I agree with you that if anarchism is correct, then you can't exercise the state apparatus in order to effect it. And yet if minarchism is correct, then you must if you want to obtain liberty. Relative to minarchy, anarchy leads to apathy and disengagement. Relative to anarchy, minarchy leads to further strengthening the State. This contradiction alone is a serious matter.

I couldn't disagree more. The difference between libertarian minarchism and anarchism hinges on a fairly technical point about the nature of sovereignty. The implications for strategy are minor at best. If minarchists, working through the political apparatus, are able to increase freedom, then more power to them; I will be in their debt. We should keep in mind, however, that political gains will be temporary and insecure if not grounded in the moral foundation that I call "liberty." And political action cannot accomplish this.

Rand somewhere observes that the formation of a pro-freedom political party is premature until the cultural foundations have been laid. I agree with this. It is for this reason that John Hospers, the first to run for president on the LP ticket, was my favorite among all LP candidates. He was very candid that his purpose in running was purely educational. When asked if he had any chance of winning, Hospers said No, but that was not his purpose. This contrasts sharply with Ed Clark and subsequent candidates who, when asked the same question, concocted absurd reasons about how they had a chance to win. I tuned out to LP presidential candidates after hearing this; they came across as more of the same disingenuous politicians. (Never mind Clark's famous television ad that had a picture of JFK in the background. That was either high camp or one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen.)

Btw, a lengthy and detailed -- some would say "tedious" -- analysis of my views on political action can be found in The Ethics of Voting:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

(Theoretically speaking, the most interesting part of this article is Part Two. It contains a fair amount of original thinking.)

Ghs

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"Freedom" and "liberty," as I used the terms in a stipulative and rather idiosyncratic manner, do not constitute a "dichotomy." Liberty is freedom with a moral foundation.

As I explain later in the essay (the posted portion is less than half of the original), liberty depends primarily on individual efforts, whereas freedom relies more on institutions. The latter is illustrated in the notion of a free press and organized religion as "intermediate institutions" that function as buffers between the government and individuals. For the most part, neither institution consistently defends freedom on moral grounds, so they do not defend "liberty" in my sense of the term. Nevertheless, both institutions have sometimes defended "freedom" in their particular spheres. (The notion of "intermediate institutions," as discussed by Burke, Tocqueville, and similar thinkers, has not received the attention it deserves from libertarians.)

Going along with the liberty/freedom concept: I don't think the crucial place for libertarians to be in the fight is on the freedom side. E.g., take the NRA, which fights for freedom to bear arms. They are much more powerful and influential than any libertarian group, and they are extremely dedicated. Ad-hoc associations like this spring up naturally, without any unifying ideology, because it is natural and normal for people, even those without an ideology, not to like restraints on their freedom.

I think the primary role that libertarianism ought to play concerns the moral reformation of mankind, the imperative to keep your hands to yourself, to respect others' self-sovereignty -- what you call "liberty." This is where the core intellectual/activist energy should be directed if we really want liberty, and it is also where in a division of labor sense we ought to excel -- any republican can fight for the 2nd amendment, but only a libertarian is able to fight for liberty.

Can there be a relation between the core activity and the subordinate ones? Yes, but only on terms set by the liberty agenda. What does this mean for politics? It means that to the extent that we become involved with politics (the degree is a strategic choice depending on cultural and other factors), we should be motivated to select people who have the self-sovereignty ideals. But this presumes that we even know what those ideals are.

Shayne

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Rand somewhere observes that the formation of a pro-freedom political party is premature until the cultural foundations have been laid. I agree with this. It is for this reason that John Hospers, the first to run for president on the LP ticket, was my favorite among all LP candidates. He was very candid that his purpose in running was purely educational. When asked if he had any chance of winning, Hospers said No, but that was not his purpose.

This contrasts sharply with Ed Clark and subsequent candidates who, when asked the same question, concocted absurd reasons about how they had a chance to win. I tuned out to LP presidential candidates after hearing this; they came across as more of the same disingenuous politicians. (Never mind Clark's famous television ad that had a picture of JFK in the background. That was either high camp or one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen.)

George,

Ayn Rand made remarks about cultural foundations on many occasions in the 1970s, including every Ford Hall Forum Q&A. See The Rewrite Squad for some examples.

She didn't make the same applications, though. She took her basic position to imply that John Hospers in 1972 was a worthless publicity-hound, and that Roger McBride in 1976 was no better.

I frequently tuned out the Libertarian Party after 1980, so didn't give up on it completely till the mid-1990s, by which time it was obvious even to me that the LP had acquired nearly all the inside dirt and exterior sleaze of the Republicans or the Democrats, without any prospect of winning elective office above the county level. Slow learning...

Robert Campbell

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Going along with the liberty/freedom concept: I don't think the crucial place for libertarians to be in the fight is on the freedom side. E.g., take the NRA, which fights for freedom to bear arms. They are much more powerful and influential than any libertarian group, and they are extremely dedicated. Ad-hoc associations like this spring up naturally, without any unifying ideology, because it is natural and normal for people, even those without an ideology, not to like restraints on their freedom.

I think the primary role that libertarianism ought to play concerns the moral reformation of mankind, the imperative to keep your hands to yourself, to respect others' self-sovereignty -- what you call "liberty." This is where the core intellectual/activist energy should be directed if we really want liberty, and it is also where in a division of labor sense we ought to excel -- any republican can fight for the 2nd amendment, but only a libertarian is able to fight for liberty.

Can there be a relation between the core activity and the subordinate ones? Yes, but only on terms set by the liberty agenda. What does this mean for politics? It means that to the extent that we become involved with politics (the degree is a strategic choice depending on cultural and other factors), we should be motivated to select people who have the self-sovereignty ideals. But this presumes that we even know what those ideals are.

Shayne

You have given a fine statement of the essentials, and I agree with you completely.

Given our limited numbers and resources, libertarians should focus on the moral foundations of a free society. To devote our energies to the ad hoc organizations of the type you mention can easily fritter away our moral capital. Limited alliances may be fine in particular cases, but when libertarians seek to absorb non or quasi-libertarian organizations into the libertarian movement, they usually end up getting absorbed themselves.

Ghs

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We have to unify, and in order to do that, we need to focus on areas of fundamental difference and sort them out. Anarchy and minarchy are at radical odds, they can't both be right (I argue that they are both wrong), and they imply opposite political strategies, as you identify. I agree with you that if anarchism is correct, then you can't exercise the state apparatus in order to effect it. And yet if minarchism is correct, then you must if you want to obtain liberty. Relative to minarchy, anarchy leads to apathy and disengagement. Relative to anarchy, minarchy leads to further strengthening the State. This contradiction alone is a serious matter.

I couldn't disagree more. The difference between libertarian minarchism and anarchism hinges on a fairly technical point about the nature of sovereignty. The implications for strategy are minor at best. If minarchists, working through the political apparatus, are able to increase freedom, then more power to them; I will be in their debt. We should keep in mind, however, that political gains will be temporary and insecure if not grounded in the moral foundation that I call "liberty." And political action cannot accomplish this.

You seem to associate "minarchism" with "voting." I'm not a minarchist, but I think I could speak for them in saying that voting is a tactical decision. Even being involved at all in mainstream politics is a tactical decision. I mean, you could even have a minarchist who denies the validity of the current government and encourages revolution -- such encouragement and such grounds hail to the moral foundation of liberty, and actively seek to instill the liberty mindset in the people at large. Just read the works of Americans around the time of the revolution, and the Federalist/Anti-Federalist papers. These were "political", but also ideological. Both go together hand-in-hand. Indeed, a non-ideological political action is, strategically and in the long-term, a futile action. So I totally reject this wedge you want to drive between politics and ideas. You seem to have an irrational distaste for "politics", and thus have turned it into a strawman concept.

I further do not understand why you think that the anarchy/minarchy issue is unimportant. If you are a Tea Party minarchist, you could virtually guarantee that some cranky anarchist telling the young kids not to participate is not going to be thought of as harmless. So this view that it's unimportant is entirely one-sided I think. It may not be important to you because you have given up all hope anyway. But for those of us who have hope, yeah, it's important to us that anarchists are gutting young kids of it and turning them into apathetic and irrational "hippies" (I use that word tongue in cheek because Rand said it in this connection).

Rand somewhere observes that the formation of a pro-freedom political party is premature until the cultural foundations have been laid.

It's a false choice to either form a pro-freedom political party or not do politics. Politics begins the minute you have one person trying to convince another person to join forces for mutual benefit. It is not some Platonic Form that only has meaning on a national, state, or city-wide scale. It begins with you and your associates and neighbors.

Shayne

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You seem to associate "minarchism" with "voting." I'm not a minarchist, but I think I could speak for them in saying that voting is a tactical decision. Even being involved at all in mainstream politics is a tactical decision. I mean, you could even have a minarchist who denies the validity of the current government and encourages revolution -- such encouragement and such grounds hail to the moral foundation of liberty, and actively seek to instill the liberty mindset in the people at large. Just read the works of Americans around the time of the revolution, and the Federalist/Anti-Federalist papers. These were "political", but also ideological. Both go together hand-in-hand. Indeed, a non-ideological political action is, strategically and in the long-term, a futile action. So I totally reject this wedge you want to drive between politics and ideas. You seem to have an irrational distaste for "politics", and thus have turned it into a strawman concept.

I further do not understand why you think that the anarchy/minarchy issue is unimportant. If you are a Tea Party minarchist, you could virtually guarantee that some cranky anarchist telling the young kids not to participate is not going to be thought of as harmless. So this view that it's unimportant is entirely one-sided I think. It may not be important to you because you have given up all hope anyway. But for those of us who have hope, yeah, it's important to us that anarchists are gutting young kids of it and turning them into apathetic and irrational "hippies" (I use that word tongue in cheek because Rand said it in this connection).

I was addressing your claim that libertarians need to "unify" by focusing "on areas of fundamental difference" and sorting them out. You specifically mentioned the anarchism/minarchism controversy in this regard.

This is a mistake. There is plenty of common ground, and we no more need to resolve this problem before cooperating in common strategies than we need to resolves other differences, such as the controversy between natural right and utilitarian libertarians.

And I have never associated "minarchism" with "voting." I said that I can understand why voting is regarded by minarchists as a legitimate tactic. Anarchists are a different matter, however, as I explain in considerable detail in The Ethics of Voting .

It's a false choice to either form a pro-freedom political party or not do politics. Politics begins the minute you have one person trying to convince another person to join forces for mutual benefit. It is not some Platonic Form that only has meaning on a national, state, or city-wide scale. It begins with you and your associates and neighbors.

You have defined "politics" in a very broad manner. Although we sometimes speak of "office politics" and similar things, I use the term in a much more specific sense. I have often referred to this as electoral politics.

Ghs

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I was addressing your claim that libertarians need to "unify" by focusing "on areas of fundamental difference" and sorting them out. You specifically mentioned the anarchism/minarchism controversy in this regard.

This is a mistake. There is plenty of common ground, and we no more need to resolve this problem before cooperating in common strategies than we need to resolves other differences, such as the controversy between natural right and utilitarian libertarians.

The end determines the means. This is what we disagree on. You seen an end in loose terms as "liberty"; I see it in specific terms of what kinds of cultural-political ideas/systems are needed in order to secure liberty. Each end would entail a different means. Further, when you talk to people and they ask "well how would you build roads" or some such, many people are sensible enough to care about your answer, and if you can't provide a credible answer, they dismiss you. Anarchists have no credible answer to "what if the US has anarchy and then the Chinese try to come take what they think is theirs?" No credibility means no buy-in which means failure.

You have defined "politics" in a very broad manner. Although we sometimes speak of "office politics" and similar things, I use the term in a much more specific sense. I have often referred to this as electoral politics.

My definition is the rational one, it encompasses the full range of relevant political activity. By having an overly narrow definition (so narrow it even depends on a particular implementation in a particular political regime which is in many ways corrupt) you end up implicitly dismissing the broader one and throw out the baby with the bathwater.

Shayne

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You have given a fine statement of the essentials, and I agree with you completely.

Given our limited numbers and resources, libertarians should focus on the moral foundations of a free society. To devote our energies to the ad hoc organizations of the type you mention can easily fritter away our moral capital. Limited alliances may be fine in particular cases, but when libertarians seek to absorb non or quasi-libertarian organizations into the libertarian movement, they usually end up getting absorbed themselves.

Ghs

I think you and I agree on a lot George (actually you came first and are more articulate so I should say that I agree with you on a lot), what's most interesting to me is the area we don't agree on. Near the root: "The difference between libertarian minarchism and anarchism hinges on a fairly technical point about the nature of sovereignty."

To me this looks like code for: "Don't ask what's behind the curtain my dear boy, now just run along and let the show go on!" I do not see what is so "technical" here; it's a very important issue and one that every rational adult should be able to precisely understand. We are not talking about rocket science, we're talking about individual rights.

Shayne

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To me this looks like code for: "Don't ask what's behind the curtain my dear boy, now just run along and let the show go on!" I do not see what is so "technical" here; it's a very important issue and one that every rational adult should be able to precisely understand. We are not talking about rocket science, we're talking about individual rights.

Let me restate a bit. Algebra is "technical." And yet every high school student is expected to work through it in order to function in society. Rights can be technical too, though they are far less technical than algebra, and far more important to a functioning society. Rather than acting like the anarchy/minarchy issue is some scary black box for common people to avoid, we should have a rights theory that, analogous to algebra, makes it perfectly clear what the answer is.

I would say that until you can lift society up such that an understanding of rights is given at least 10% of the attention as the understanding of algebra then liberty cannot prevail, and promoting this understanding is at the core of any reasonable libertarian strategy. And yet, we can't even work out among ourselves whether anarchy or minarchy is the answer. Comparing to the field of mathematics, we're still pre-ancient Greece when it comes to rights.

Shayne

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To me this looks like code for: "Don't ask what's behind the curtain my dear boy, now just run along and let the show go on!" I do not see what is so "technical" here; it's a very important issue and one that every rational adult should be able to precisely understand. We are not talking about rocket science, we're talking about individual rights.

In a debate many years ago with minarchist Bob Poole (of Reason Magazine), he used the metaphor of the U.S. government being a garden overgrown with weeds. I replied that it is a garden of weeds, period.

This difference entails some important philosophical differences, but both minarchists and anarchists agree that we have a lot of weeding to do, and we agree on 99.99 percent of the real weeds. Should we ever be fortunate enough to get rid of all those weeds, then we can focus on our remaining disagreements.

I was virtually hounded off an anarchist list years ago because I defended private property, the need for judicial systems, police forces, etc. Many members unceremoniously informed me that I was not a real anarchist. Similarly (as I have argued before on another thread) the ideal Randian government, which would lack the power to tax, is not a real government in any traditional sense of the word.

Both libertarian anarchism and minarchism occupy a nether region in conventional political theory. Neither is easy to classify. But I don't want to get sidetracked into yet another debate on this subject, so I will stop here.

Ghs

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You have defined "politics" in a very broad manner. Although we sometimes speak of "office politics" and similar things, I use the term in a much more specific sense. I have often referred to this as electoral politics.

My definition is the rational one, it encompasses the full range of relevant political activity. By having an overly narrow definition (so narrow it even depends on a particular implementation in a particular political regime which is in many ways corrupt) you end up implicitly dismissing the broader one and throw out the baby with the bathwater.

In various articles and lectures over the years, I have always been very clear about what I mean by "political" action. In other writings and lectures that did not address this particular libertarian controversy, I have frequently used "political" in a broader sense -- though your conception is so broad as to be virtually useless for any kind of specialized treatment.

Your claim that only your definition is "the rational one" is nonsense. Words like "political" and "social" are notoriously vague. This requires that one specify how one is using a word in a particular context.

Ghs

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Gentlemen:

That is why we define our terms in debate. Saves a lot of useless argument.

Adam

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I was virtually hounded off an anarchist list years ago because I defended private property, the need for judicial systems, police forces, etc. Many members unceremoniously informed me that I was not a real anarchist. Similarly (as I have argued before on another thread) the ideal Randian government, which would lack the power to tax, is not a real government in any traditional sense of the word.

Actually I don't know precisely what you mean by "anarchism." For all I know you would call my position anarchic. It might even be virtually identical to yours. Is your position simply Rothbardian, or do you have another view? Perhaps you could point me to a paper that defines your viewpoint?

In a debate many years ago with minarchist Bob Poole (of Reason Magazine), he used the metaphor of the U.S. government being a garden overgrown with weeds. I replied that it is a garden of weeds, period.

The roads work. The military keeps the Chinese from establishing Communism. There are many functions it performs that are useful, but that should be reclaimed and reformed on libertarian principles. Granted the system is severely corrupted and distorted, but throwing it in the can would be not only impossible but an outright waste.

This difference entails some important philosophical differences, but both minarchists and anarchists agree that we have a lot of weeding to do, and we agree on 99.99 percent of the real weeds. Should we ever be fortunate enough to get rid of all those weeds, then we can focus on our remaining disagreements.

Again I would say that the end determines the proper means, and right from the outset. People need a concrete vision to work toward, and they need to see that the steps they are taking consistently work toward it. This doesn't mean some kind of top-down dictatorial organization, it means a consistent, integrated set of principles that can be rationally assented to and work toward in whatever manner the individual chooses.

You claim it doesn't matter and that it will all work out in the end, or not work out, but that no up-front conceptualizing about what we are working *for* will make any difference whatever because we already have all the important answers for this point in our history. I do not think that this implicit perspective of yours is actually consistent with your explicit philosophy, so I don't think I need to tell you what is wrong with it.

Shayne

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Actually I don't know precisely what you mean by "anarchism." For all I know you would call my position anarchic. It might even be virtually identical to yours. Is your position simply Rothbardian, or do you have another view? Perhaps you could point me to a paper that defines your viewpoint?

My anarchism is essentially Rothbardian, but with some differences.

See:

In Defense of Rational Anarchism

Justice Entrepreneurship in a Free Market

Justice Entrepreneurship Revisited

Ghs

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In various articles and lectures over the years, I have always been very clear about what I mean by "political" action. In other writings and lectures that did not address this particular libertarian controversy, I have frequently used "political" in a broader sense -- though your conception is so broad as to be virtually useless for any kind of specialized treatment.

Your claim that only your definition is "the rational one" is nonsense. Words like "political" and "social" are notoriously vague. This requires that one specify how one is using a word in a particular context.

Ghs

My definition is the only rational one in this context; yours is arbitrary, specifically, arbitrarily narrow. Of course as Selene points out I haven't actually defined my conception.

I do not look to the establishment to define my terms for me, so I would never define "politics" as "electoral." I start with what is: people working together, arguing, planning, thinking about their future social structures. And I see a seamless continuum from you and I talking up to a preacher telling his flock of sheep what to think up to local, state and national politics. And I see that if libertarianism wants to be effective it has to have this organic conception of politics, not the arbitrarily narrow one you were using.

Shayne

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Thanks George, I'll read them. Actually I've already read "In Defense ..."

Shayne

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In various articles and lectures over the years, I have always been very clear about what I mean by "political" action. In other writings and lectures that did not address this particular libertarian controversy, I have frequently used "political" in a broader sense -- though your conception is so broad as to be virtually useless for any kind of specialized treatment.

Your claim that only your definition is "the rational one" is nonsense. Words like "political" and "social" are notoriously vague. This requires that one specify how one is using a word in a particular context.

Ghs

My definition is the only rational one in this context; yours is arbitrary, specifically, arbitrarily narrow. Of course as Selene points out I haven't actually defined my conception.

I do not look to the establishment to define my terms for me, so I would never define "politics" as "electoral." I start with what is: people working together, arguing, planning, thinking about their future social structures. And I see a seamless continuum from you and I talking up to a preacher telling his flock of sheep what to think up to local, state and national politics. And I see that if libertarianism wants to be effective it has to have this organic conception of politics, not the arbitrarily narrow one you were using.

Shayne

I don't define "politics" as "electoral." I use the term "electoral" to qualify and clarify what I mean in various discussions about libertarian strategy.

I have a lengthy discussion of the various meanings of "political" in my forthcoming book from Cambridge, Themes in the History of Classical Liberalism -- one based on four decades of intensive reading in this area. I don't really need you to inform me about how the word should be defined.

Ghs

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I don't define "politics" as "electoral." I use the term "electoral" to qualify and clarify what I mean in various discussions about libertarian strategy.

Fair enough, but my intent here is to talk in the broadest strategic terms.

I have a lengthy discussion of the various meanings of "political" in my forthcoming book from Cambridge, Themes in the History of Classical Liberalism -- one based on four decades of intensive reading in this area. I don't really need you to inform me about how the word should be defined.

I'm telling you how I conceive it and why, and you're telling me it's too woozy when for my purposes when it is not. I'm informing you that you are wrong about what you're saying about what I think. Listing your credentials (which I most certainly respect, not because of the credentials but because I have read your writing) can't alter the fact that what you are saying about my view is wrong.

Now you could accuse me of not communicating as effectively as you do, I can't argue with that. But I know quite clearly what I think and why so your dismissal of my conception -- "your conception is so broad as to be virtually useless" -- falls completely flat.

I think we had the same problem with the word "strategic." I used it in the only rational manner, which includes the possibility of strategies within strategies, and you presumed (illogically) that I meant some kind of concrete view of strategy that must contain tactics only. It's the same thing with politics. I view politics as referring to a plethora of other kinds of political activities, possibly including electoral politics, and that the broad concept is important when talking about libertarian strategy.

Shayne

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I don't define "politics" as "electoral." I use the term "electoral" to qualify and clarify what I mean in various discussions about libertarian strategy.

Fair enough, but my intent here is to talk in the broadest strategic terms.

Here is how I begin Part One of The Ethics of Voting

A detailed libertarian critique of electoral voting is long overdue. Political libertarians (i.e., those who support the effort to elect libertarians to political office) are usually silent on the moral implications of electoral voting.

And in case this wasn't sufficiently clear, a little later I added:

A term that may generate some confusion is “electoral voting.” This means voting for the purpose of placing someone in a political office. It does not refer to other kinds of political voting, such as voting on particular issues in a referendum. (This requires a somewhat different analysis.) Hereafter, unless otherwise noted, the simple term “voting” shall be used to mean “electoral voting.”

What anyone would object to my usage, when I am very clear about what I mean, escapes me. What qualifier would you suggest that I use instead of political libertarians? Musical libertarians? Bonehead libertarians?

Ghs: I have a lengthy discussion of the various meanings of "political" in my forthcoming book from Cambridge, Themes in the History of Classical Liberalism -- one based on four decades of intensive reading in this area. I don't really need you to inform me about how the word should be defined.

I'm telling you how I conceive it and why, and you're telling me it's too woozy when for my purposes when it is not. I'm informing you that you are wrong about what you're saying about what I think. Listing your credentials (which I most certainly respect, not because of the credentials but because I have read your writing) can't alter the fact that what you are saying about my view is wrong.

I said that your usage of "political" is so broad as to be useless in any specialized discussion. And it is. From what I have seen so far, it differs little if at all from the meaning of "social." And you will have a serious problem when discussing libertarianism (and political theory generally) if you don't distinguish the political realm from the social realm.

Ghs

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