What Do We Do With the Rich People?

In the course of establishing a revolutionary society, we will eventually have to deal with an important problem: what do we do with the rich people? Being non-coercive, we don't want to just kill them. And having a respect for personal property (i.e. possession, c.f. private property or capital), we don't just want to dispossess them of all their wealth. But we also want to create an egalitarian society, so surely we can't just let them keep their yachts and mansions and golf courses! ...can we?

Well, let's think this through: is property the extent of wealth? No. Let's see why:

Wealth depends on public power to defend it both from roaming hordes of peasant criminals who might wish to take it by force and the pesky egalitarianism of real democracy — the Founding Fathers of the United States consciously established a state that would defend the rich against the poor. In a real democracy, the accumulation of wealth would be impossible since the poor could just vote to redistribute land and capital; this, in fact, has been the main cry of every peasant revolt in history — cancel the debt and redistribute the land.

Wealth just as crucially depends on something a little more subtle: the private power of the wealthy to command the resources needed to sustain and maintain their property. By this I mean the army of servants, groundskeepers, housekeepers, mechanics, drivers, sailors, caddies, security guards, technicians, etc, that are needed to keep a mansion, yacht, golf cart, kitchen, etc, stocked, operational and convenient. Without the economic power to hire and fire the said army, the lifestyle of the rich becomes impossible for any length of time. Machines break down, houses become decrepit, country clubs grow weeds.

With the rapid or eventual elimination of the State, the public power to defend the rich obviously disappears. But less obviously, with the rise of socialism (that is, the control by workers of their own labor) the private power disappears as well. When workers are not dependent on the workings of financial and labor markets to feed themselves but instead organize work and distribute goods based on principles of mutual aid and the needs of the many, there's no time to do upkeep on the toys of the rich.

The upshot of all this is, a libertarian socialist society doesn't need to do anything with or to rich people. It's almost certain that we'll never really need to commandeer the land that mansions sit on, or the harbors that yachts are docked at (not to mention the mansions and yachts themselves). The rich can keep them, for what they'll be worth with no workers willing to do maintenance on them, or provide them with fuel and food and service besides the basics that anyone would be entitled to. We can let the rich keep everything they can make a reasonable claim to using, and just wait for them to get sick of living in broken-down palaces, with rusting yachts in their rotting docks. No coercion, appropriation or, really, action necessary.

(This of course says nothing of what we do with those things that the rich cannot reasonably claim to use, such as huge tracts of empty land, factories, business places, etc, which can in no way be construed to be personal possessions as they fundamentally depend on the labor of others for their very existence.)

State vs. Government

When I talk about anarchism, I mean it as opposition to the State: that is, the institution which claims sole authority to violence in a geographic territory. Strictly speaking, I do not oppose government. Now, the terms "State" and "government" are generally interchangeable in English, and I usually follow that convention. But the word "government" to me evokes the sense of "maintaining function and control". And it's certainly true that humans want control over their environment, both physical and social (that they can rarely have it is beside the point). The confusion comes in the assumption that a State is required for government, and that any society without a State is without government. Two hundred years of libertarian political theory and a handful of historical examples put the lie to this. Humans are able to govern their affairs quite efficiently without the continual threat of violence. Violence is, of course, a possibility in many everyday situations, but that's certainly no less a fact in a Statist society than in a Stateless one. Simply put, State is not necessarily government, and government is not necessarily State.

Why I No Longer Argue with Libertarians

There is an important distinction between lower-case L libertarians, of which I am one, and capital L Libertarians, of which Ron Paul is one. The former is simply the philosophical position that liberty ought to be maximized. In practice, this implies the elimination of coercive State government and exploitative capitalism (setting aside anarcho-capitalism, whose coherence I will address in future). The latter is an American invention, and is a hybrid of Austrian economics and Randian political philosophy (if it can be called such). To compare and contrast these two positions: the former is anti-State and anti-capitalist; the latter requires a state to enforce property rights, and is extremely pro-capitalist and against government intervention in the economy. The former is generally strongly federalist and socialist; the latter largely individualist and laissez-faire. Both oppose the intervention of any form of government into people's private lives, as well as some measure of positive enforcement of certain rights, although both view liberty as essentially negative (although many would argue that the distinction is meaningless).

There is another important distinction that needs to be made. It is between what I will term capital C Capitalism and lower-case C capitalism. Capital L Libertarians are also, necessarily, capital C Capitalists. That is, they hold the belief that capitalism is a desirable state of affairs, and a positive good for the world. Lower-case C capitalists are merely those people who own capital. They are business owners, CEOs, managers, bankers. Lower-case C capitalists can be Libertarians, conservatives or liberals, progressives or reactionaries. The former is an ideological position; the latter is a position in society.

Left socialists often rail against Libertarianism, which is fun to do, no doubt. However, Libertarians  don't actually matter in society. Maybe in the future, when the Libertarian Party has a majority in the Senate, we can worry about their ideas. The real opponent of the left, though, is not the Capitalist Libertarian. The real opponent is the capitalist. So while it's intellectually interesting to get into shouting matches with the local Randroids, anarchists and other leftists should really save their energy, both physical and intellectual, for opposing actual capitalism! Arguing against right-wing Capitalists is easy. What's hard is convincing a liberal capitalist why stateless socialism is desirable (not to mention feasible). That's why I'm not gonna argue with Ron Paul supporters and Ayn Rand fans anymore. It's a waste of breath, both on principle and in effect. My task from now on will be to convince capitalists of their error.

Why Syndicalism

Everybody works. Or, at least, everybody works when artificial unemployment doesn't exist. And I say "everybody" because I always speak in hyperbole. In any case, the overwhelming majority of people seek work of some sort. Just recently, my mom lost her job, and instead of spending all day sitting on the couch watching Home & Garden television (which she could easily afford to do), she went and got a job that pays her barely anything. People want to be formally occupied by something they believe brings benefit to them and their family, or to society at large. This tendency takes various forms outside the capitalist structure of "employment". Artists create art regardless of whether they get paid for it. People who love cooking spend hours perfecting recipes for no one's enjoyment but their own. In a world that didn't care about "marketable skills" and didn't penalize risk-taking with destitution, people would be able to occupy themselves with whatever work they were naturally inclined to do.

In a capitalist society, where people must balance their desires against the demands of the market, many work jobs they do not enjoy, the most unpleasant of which are usually the lowest paying and most exploitative. Such people should, and historically often did, organize into guilds or unions to demand (and occasionally win) increases in wages, reduction in working hours, and improvements in working conditions. These unions are the perfect place to foment radicalism, since workers are the most exposed to the oppressive and exploitative nature of capitalism, and often suffer the most at the hands of the government once they organize. From a utopian perspective (by which I mean, from the point of view of an imagined future free society) such unions would constitute democratic worker councils in their respective industries, certifying members of professional groups and organizing allocation of work and resources. In the modern world, they are means of resisting capitalist exploitation and social oppression.

Not everyone, of course, is keen on resisting exploitation, because they do not see it as such. Particularly in America the myth (that is, the misunderstanding of economics and probability) that anyone can get rich tricks people into aligning their perceived interests with the capitalist class, and the illusion of democracy allows them to believe that the government exists to support them, rather than to support the capitalist system. They believe that fighting for their own, realistic, interests will jeopardize their chances of ascending the social or corporate ladder on the off chance they come up with the better mousetrap. The refusal to admit the existence of a sharp class division between workers on the one hand and owners and rulers on the other leads them to have disdain for anyone who recognizes, and fights against, it.

The disdain many people have for unions specifically is due to the essentially capitalist trades unions whose leaders often have more in common with the bosses than with the workers, and of course to the stain of Soviet Communism on the entire notion. (The Soviet Union was of course in no way communist, but is rather State Capitalist to the core.) When workers are divorced from the output of their labor, whether by capitalist profiteering or state mandates, the tendency to lose personal interest in their work is increased and reinforced, because the work is no longer theirs, either in methodology or results. To contrast, work done by democratically organized, voluntary worker collectives instills a sense of pride and ownership in the work which produces both better results and stronger communities. It is this aspect of union organizing which leads me to believe that syndicalism — that is, the organizing of the working class into unions based on industry or geography — is the most practicable way of achieving revolution.

Workers, who make up the vast majority of society, are shown the power of democratic organizing, the power of their numbers in the face of capitalist and government oppression, and the dignity and satisfaction to be found in controlling the product of their own labor. I will discuss in a future post why I think syndicalism is the best way of instilling revolutionary consciousness in the working class, but it is definitely not the simplest or most glamorous way. It involves working shitty jobs, taking large personal, financial and health risks, and seeing little progress or huge reversals in fortune. The main point is, though, that many workers do this every day without any political motivation anyway, and the addition of that motivation has been proven historically to be easier and more effective than the creation of entirely new, theory-motivated political organizations.

Who Is a Moral Agent?

There is an important assumption about moral agency which always goes unstated in political discussion. It is this: institutions have moral agency. I could not possibly disagree with anything more than this. I believe that this assumption is responsible for a great deal of the evil that happens in the world. The assumption is unquestioned and unacknowledged because people do not think carefully about where moral agency can rest. Liberals who are outraged by the Citizens United verdict have no problems with treating the government as a valid moral agent, capable of killing, stealing, and taking on social projects. Likewise, right-wingers want to treat huge, fascistic corporations as equivalent to human beings, but balk at the idea of the government doing anything which doesn't put money into their wallets.

My take on this matter is simple: moral agency must lie with individual human beings. This is a minimal assumption, and I will take it for granted. However, humans do not live in isolation, and collective decisions must be made. As such, there must be some provision for super-individual moral agency. This is what I refer to as a group of individuals, or simply group. I do not use this term in a simple way, meaning any attempt at decision making involving more than one person. Instead, I use it in a technical way, to mean a voluntary association of individuals, none of whom relinquish or subvert their own moral agency, but merely use some method to determine the prevailing moral judgement of the group. The methods by which a group can come to such a determination are manifold: voting, by simple or super majority; formal debate; consensus building; and many not yet invented, I'm sure.

I contrast the idea of the group to the idea of the institution. An institution is also a super-individual decision-making body. However, it is not composed of individuals. In fact (as I shall discuss in a future post) institutions have priorities and prerogatives completely independent of the will of any given person. Obviously, decisions within institutions are ultimately made by individuals. But that individual must be willing to act, and must in fact act, in the interests of the institution rather than in their own individual interest or they would not be placed in such a position to begin with. A perfect example of this comes from a friend of mine who was tasked to go to a State Legislature meeting on behalf of the healthcare non-profit he works for. The people in charge had decided they would side with a certain political bloc which my friend opposed. However, it was his job to go and relay, and argue for, the position of the non-profit. His individual opinion of the matter at hand did not matter in the slightest. All that mattered was whether or not he could accurately relay the prevailing opinion of the institution he was a part of.

I do not think that the suppression of one's own moral agency in such a circumstance is conscionable. Be it as an employee, a soldier, or a politician, one should not have to abnegate one's own moral agency to serve a greater good. Such a good can be served voluntarily, and morally, by acting as part of a group of individuals, whose decision you can protest and even reject with no artificially contrived consequences to you, such as destitution or imprisonment.

Paradox of Voting

The more people vote, the less chance each vote has of affecting the outcome of the election. This is called the Paradox of Voting. Some economists use this as a reason not to vote. I don't think it's a good reason not to vote (there are plenty of other good reasons not to vote). However, it is a good reason to not harass anyone about voting. The most common thing I hear from liberals and other supposedly civic-minded people when they learn that I don't vote is that it's awful and I don't get to complain about politicians.

First of all, it's not awful. Voting in a government election is a form of consent. Even those people who know that I'm an anarchist occasionally still entreat me to vote "because this is such an important election!" Well, uh, guess what? It's not. What's that? We need to replace the Big Oil and defense contractor-owned corporate stooge with a Big Bank and finance-owned corporate stooge? Why, yes, that is a meaningful Change which will bring Hope!

Second, voting isn't magic. Voting is just a method of collective decision making. There are others. I like consensus-building. It probably wouldn't work on a national level, but it produces far more meaningful results. When you tell me that you want me to go vote, you're not really saying you want me to vote. What you're saying is that you want me to agree with you on the value and legitimacy of the State government which you support at the moment. However, I do not support any such government, and I will not feel guilty for doing so. Give me a ballot with "None of the above" on it, and then I might go vote, because then voting would suddenly be a meaningful action again. It would not just be a choice of oppressors, as participation in any coercive institution is, but a form of expressing political will — in this case, the will to not have any of the jokers who call themselves politicians decide my economic and legal fate.

Finally, let's see what George Carlin has to say. I am a bit smug about coming up with that bit of wisdom before I ever saw this clip. The few times I have had the privilege of actually saying this to someone they end up grasping inarticulately at reasons why it's wrong before quickly ending the conversation. Alas, few people like talking about politics — or political theory, in any case. I look forward to donning my red and black "I DIDN'T VOTE" button this coming November. It generates just the right ratio of curiosity to contempt (I figure, if you're contemptuous to begin with, I'm not gonna get through to you in any case).

This concept has a sort of inverse corollary when it comes to consumption, which I will talk about in a future post.

Games

Most people have the intuition that, while you do not have the right to do violence to someone unprovoked, once they have done violence to you, you are justified in doing violence back to them. I have a system by which I try to schematize this intuition. I frame interactions between people as games. Such games have rules, which are agreed upon implicitly by those involved. The players in these games, I assume, are in an equal power relationship — that is, factors such as authority, gender and race are not involved (this mitigates such non-reciprocal cultural artifacts as orders and bigoted statements. [I should probably make a post about this assumption at some point.] ).

Cultural expectations and past relationships play big roles in determining the rules of such games. These rules can include: "talking is allowed", "intentional physical contact is not allowed" (this might well be a rule with strangers on the street), "kissing is allowed" (such as between people in a romantic relationship). For the vast majority of interactions, "don't do violence" is a rule. However, the rules of games can change, and often do in short order. These changes come about when one person implicitly or explicitly violates a standing rule. Once this happens, both players may now play by these new rules. What this creates in effect is an "eye for an eye" situation. If you are willing to violate one of the rules of the interaction, you are implicitly agreeing to play by that rule for the duration of the interaction. So, if you punch someone (a violation of a rule outside of a boxing ring), you agree to getting punched yourself. If you kiss someone, you are implying that they may kiss you back. And so on.

This allows us to set up a  naive code for behaviour: follow the rules, or, if you violate them, accept that the new rules your violation established apply to you as much as to anyone else you interact with.

An Introduction to Interfaces, and Other Theories As Well

[This post assumes a reasonable familiarity with the political philosophy and history of anarchism. This will also be the first of probably many posts about problems I see in the general discourse of anarchy, as well as a particularly interesting consequence of a hypothetical anarchist society with I term "interfaces". In this and future essays, the words "free", "libertarian" and "non-coercive" are often used interchangeably.]

There is a serious problem which afflicts most political and intellectual movements. Sectarianism. The splintering of subgroups into ideologically warring factions, ready to heap unrestrained scorn on those whose views and opinions differ slightly from their own. Radicals are especially vulnerable to this trap, as they have so little practical experience on which to base their political theory. Hence "anarchists" come in every stripe, from capitalist to communist, "lifestyle" to syndicalist. I myself identify as a syndicalist — that being what seems to be the most practicable way to achieving a free society — and would like to live in a libertarian communist society. From each according to his etc. and all that.

However, this does not make me deaf either to the arguments for other systems of organizing a free society, nor to the validity of other people's views on how a free society should be organized. I believe, in fact, that there are many valid ways to organize society so as to minimize coercion while increasing prosperity. And, more importantly, I believe that in an anarchist future, many of these different systems will be implemented simultaneously. Different people will want to live in different ways. There will be primitivists who will continue agitating for the dismantling of technological civilization long after capitalism is abolished. There will be mutualists unhappy in communes, communists unhappy with local banks, market anarchist unhappy in gift economies.

This belief — that many different styles of free society are mutually compatible — leads me to two conclusions. The first is that sectarian squabbling between modern schools of anarchist thought are not only harmful and divisive, but entirely unnecessary. We all agree that State government has to be abolished, and (to consciously evoke the No True Scotsman fallacy here) every real anarchist agrees that capitalism as it exists now has to be abolished. As such, we ought to discuss not the ideological differences between us, but rather the strategic differences. And I think that many anarchists of otherwise widely divergent views would find themselves agreeing on methods for dismantling our current coercive society.

The second conclusion I have come upon is that anarchist theories of a hypothetical future lack several important features. The three most important ones are the lack of emphasis on an anarchist revolution as a necessarily world-wide phenomenon, the necessity of revolution to be a continuous process rather than a historic event, and the problem of interfaces between different types of libertarian society. This idea of interfaces is one which particularly interests me, although it is by far the most speculative and difficult to see clearly.

How would a communistic or gift-based community distribute goods across a world populated by mutualist banks and free markets? How do you determine the price of something produced in another community at your local bank when that community shares alike? I think it's obvious that questions like this become incredibly difficult to answer, given the actual lack of any such communities, but they are still worth at least positing. As vague and speculative as they are, they let us approach the different anarchist theories from different directions, let us compare and contrast the strengths and weaknesses of different theories, and help us work out the hypothetical consequences of different forms of anarchy.

Certainly, more mental energy could be devoted to figuring out how to dismantle the state in the first place. But the best way I personally know to do that is by spreading the idea of anarchy across as many people as possible. And in order to do this, you have to have both a concerted critique of modern society, and a clear view of an alternative society. It is simply not enough for the vast majority of people to have someone tell them, "Well, coercion is inherently bad, so we should remove all coercive institutions." That statement unpacks into hundreds of ideas. How is Capital coercive? How are institutions coercive? How is a representative democracy coercive? Isn't coercion sometimes necessary? Doesn't it sometimes lead to the greater good? Etc, etc, etc.

I will come back to many of the points and questions raised in this post later, to take closer looks at all of them. Most importantly I will discuss in greater detail the anarchism-without-adjectives view I discussed, as well as the question of interfaces between different types of anarchism. The devotion of so many to very particular views of anarchism confuse me, and the vitriol differences in these views evoke disturbs me. We anarchists are an unhappy few, toiling away, either in the workplace, the food shelf or the essay, to change to world for the better in the best way we know how, and we should be doing it together, regardless of what I hope to show to be trivial differences in our theoretical underpinnings.