Where's Walto on the New APSA Study on Political Parties?

 

As many of you probably know, the American Political Science Association just put out a report on political parties in the U.S. It contains somewhere around 15 chapters (depending on whether or not you include the Executive Summary, Foreword, Preface, Introduction, Conclusion, and Afterword as chapters). 

Unlike APSA's 1950 report "Toward a More Responsible Two-Party System," which pushed hard for quite specific changes to the U.S. party architecture, this study is (intentionally) less single-minded. It consists of a batch of mostly interesting and relatively easy to understand papers by a variety of scholars who are not in compete agreement with one another--except about the current crisis facing American democracy. There is, for example, no unanimity on whether expansion of Ranked Choice Voting around the country would be a good thing for American democracy. At least one article here pushes that scheme for its moderating effects on candidates and office-holders, but at least one other one advises against it because it seems to  weaken parties.

The 1950 report is fairly widely seen to have been a significant factor in our current hyper-partisanship/polarization. Some will say that the APSA committee got exactly what it asked for--in trumps! But while today's Democratic and Republican parties are "sorted," they are hardly strong or responsible. We do have exactly two clearly separated parties: there are few liberal Repubs or conservative Dems to be found around the country anymore. Most of the APSA membership of 1950 would consider that a good thing. But the leadership of the 2015-16 Republican Party could not keep Donald Trump from the Presidential nomination, and that organization currently has as its "platform" whatever Donald Trump happens to want at any given time. It may be a fervid party, but it is hardly a strong or responsible one. Meanwhile, the Democratic Party isn't even particularly fervid about anything--except its dislike of Republicans. 

Today's APSA members generally want more than two parties and they want each to be a staunch guardian of real democracy, rather than just be focused on winning elections by any means necessary. They worry that today's parties are powerless to stem widespread autocratic impulses among the citizenry.

Anyhow, check out my fairly lengthy review (even though I did not discuss every paper) over at 3:16 AM Magazine. And, if you'd care to, let me know what you think about it.

Carl Schmitt III: For an Authentic Democrat, Who are "Friends"?

  

From the moment that Carl Schmitt got cozy with the National Socialist Party in pre-WWII Germany, it has been nearly impossible to separate his famous "Friend-Enemy" distinction from a virulent anti-Semitism according to which, from the perspective of "real Germans," Jews should be seen as "others": worthless--but nevertheless dangerous--enemies. Of course, the fact that Schmitt did occasionally exhibit loathing both for individual Jews and Jewishness in general can't help but reinforce that idea. 

But the claim that any sound democratic theory depends on something like an Us versus Them picture is hard to refute. It is intuitive that only some people should be allowed to vote and make laws, and that others should have no piece of that authority. It might be thought that this privilege is just a matter of where one lives (or has lived for a while), but maybe that's not enough. Back in the 1870s, Ferdinand Tonnies divided the civilized world into two basic groups: forthright, family-centric, communitarian country folk on one side and a more atomistic/selfish, cunning urban elite on the other. The two groups didn't seem to him like they consisted of the same people. And before Tonnies, (the sainted) John Locke didn't seem to care a whit how long native Americans had resided in the new world or how recently the sons of England had gotten there: no "natural rights" could ever pertain to "savages"!

Today, many "liberals" are willing to sweetly intone that all men are brothers (and even include various non-males in their hymn), but may not agree on which of their many brethren (and maybe sisters) should be entitled to voting rights. Not babies and toddlers certainly; maybe not teens and pre-teens. (Vivek Ramaswamy is in favor of raising the voting age to 25--a bar some may suggest he only recently conquered himself). There are also differences of opinion regarding voting rights for felons, ex-felons, and the aged or demented. And the specifics of residency requirements are commonly contested as well. It may be worth noting in this context that at a recent Republican debate, Ron De Santis suggested to abundant applause that many Mexicans deserve nothing more than to be rendered "stone cold dead" for setting foot in Florida. But as all these issues are discussed at length in my book, I won't take them up here.

But I do want to mention here that humanness might be thought unnecessary as well as insufficient for voting status. For example, in her recent book on political legitimacy, Fabienne Peter makes correctness, or at least satisfactory epistemic standing, necessary--and perhaps sufficient too--for a vote to be counted. She is concerned that if a substantial portion of people continue to get issues like global warming wrong, everybody might die. So she joins long-standing paternalists and anti-government types like Jason Brennan in claiming that some folks may just be too stupid or ignorant to be allowed to have any authority over the rest of us. My point here is that if correctness is key, it might be best to give the wise and beneficent non-human visitor depicted in The Day the Earth Stood Still or a disinterested digital brainiac like ChatGPT all the votes. If democracy means that votes should be counted only if they're not wrong (or are at least sufficiently evidenced), we might better turn things completely over to the extremely wise. 

The danger with that approach, as depicted  in M.T. Anderson's Landscape With Invisible Hand (soon to be a television series!) is that extra-terrestrials  might be very intelligent but only seem to be benevolent. In Anderson's engaging book, the alien Vuvv, who may resemble granite tables but can outcompete human beings at pretty much everything, are quick to share their advanced tech with us lowlifes, but end up turning humankind into a fairly complacent colony of impoverished idolators whose main purpose becomes the entertainment of their overlords. The Vuvv may be correct about everything, but it seems clear that they are unlikely to cast any votes that might benefit us if it isn't even more good for them. It seems clear that Anderson believes that those who collaborate with--or indeed suck up to--the Vuvv should be seen as pathetic turncoats who have  foolishly abandoned their birthrights.

Returning to those who have always been denizens of terra firma, it's not hard to see why (perhaps Tonnie-inspired) rural Schmittians might believe that urban, globalist elites aren't sufficiently "down home" to be considered one of the "good folks" (especially if they're of the Jewish persuasion). One might say the "form of life" of those globalists is sufficiently different for them to be treated in much the same way Locke considered apt for the Onondagas: not because the city dwellers are "savages," but because "down home country decency" is simply beyond them.

Ludwig Wittgenstein famously suggested that if lions could talk we'd never understand them. In his view, Simba's radically different form of life must make him forever unintelligible to humans. But, of course, Native Americans and European invaders of the new world did learn to understand each other passably well. And ChatGPT is called a "large language model" precisely because of the lovely way it has been taught to "understand" and communicate with human beings. In the two sci-fi stories mentioned above, the aliens and earthlings, though wildly different, nevertheless seem capable of communicating with each other pretty well, either with a stern Nictu barrata! or some gurgles. 

So there are a bunch of choices that one might have to make if one is to be an authentic democrat. The array of options ranges all the way from ruling out everybody that annoys one in some way to including everybody who can understand what a vote does. One might constrict territories to neighborhoods or extend them to the far reaches of distant galaxies. One can even allow in non-organic computing mechanisms based solely on the possibility of reaching a perhaps weak sort of mutual understanding. One might stop anywhere on a road that stretches between the inclusion of  those who are "dumb as a stick" on one end and a place requiring a lofty epistemic footing on the other. Are there answers that are more sensible than others...or is it all just a matter of picking a place we like?

Well, in a way, both. As I always say, to move forward in philosophy one has to start somewhere. My own launching pad is generally to exalt democracy and see where it takes me. But, of course, to advocate for "self-government," one needs to know what the "self" refers to in that term. Who is it, precisely, that I'm saying should get to govern themselves? Who is included, who sent off? Was Schmitt right that this is simply a question of power? While I don't specifically discuss extra-terrestrials or AI entities in my book, I think many of the relevant questions are taken up there. For example, I spend a good deal of space on territories, residence, and mental competence, so I won't go into those matters again here. But is there anything I can say about the claimed necessity of sharing a "form of life"? Put another way, wherever we land on a residency requirement, do we have to include computing machines or Vuvv visitors if they stay around long enough to meet it?

I would say No and Yes, respectively to that question. In my view, one which follows from what I call "CHOICE voluntarism," a position inspired by some fairly obscure writings of early 20th Century American philosopher Everett Hall, the only defensible basis for majoritarianism requires that each individual be granted the same value as every other, and that is a position which itself must be based on the assumption that each choice has the same value (though perhaps a different fecundity) regardless of a desire's intensity or its wisdom. This concept of choosing requires wantings, and as AI machines don't have those, they don't qualify as possible voters. In other words, they mustn't be allowed suffrage because the sort of value machines can have is only instrumental. We may be (indeed we often should be) interested in their recommendations, but we never have any obligation to take one. But alien life forms are different. If (i) they want things; and (ii) we can understand each other on some basic level, then if we are living together (i.e., in the same territory) we must each of us be allowed one vote. I doubt there are any better ways of distinguishing "forms of life" than Wittgenstein's language-based one, so that's what I recommend using. Thus, persons share a form of life if and only if they can learn to understand each other's languages. If we begin to include items like "comfort" or "weirdness" or "trustworthiness" among our criteria, the Schmittians (and their current anti-elitist successors) will have won the day. 

I don't know how many Vuvv visitors Anderson took to be present in his story. But if they stay  around long enough, I think their votes should be counted. Furthermore, even if they do not meet the residency requirements for voting, as they are persons according to our "form of life" criterion, it's my view that no unfair discrimination (in either direction) should be countenanced. They may rise to the top economically, physically, or intellectually: that's as may be. And they may not be terribly nice. But when there are disagreements on policy (i.e., what we should do, not what is true) the majority must rule. [I don't deny that counting votes of "compound persons" like "The Borg" or determining whether an allegedly emotionless Vulcan like "Mr. Spock" may properly be said to want something. Such questions are difficult. But, sadly, philosophy--like other excellent things--is  nearly always difficult (as well as rare).] For the authentic democrat, it can't matter at all how much smarter Vuvv may be than humans. Or how weird they seem.

In sum, our Friends are those who (i) live in our territories long enough; (ii) have desires; and (iii) understand both our language and what it means to vote. They, i.e., WE together, constitute the entirety of the citizenry. That is US. And, at least for me, our Enemies are those who believe that they exclusively (or some other person or group they can point to) should get to make the laws because they are wiser or better or cooler or folksier or better looking or less weird or the only really good people--the only people that one really ought to trust. That is an anti-democratic, authoritarian position that I believe must be  resisted at every turn.

Carl Schmitt II: Two Fascinating Books on the Fall of Weimar

The incisive criticisms Schmitt aimed at both liberalism and democracy, and their role in the collapse of the 1919 Weimar Constitution and the Nazi takeover of Germany (all discussed a bit in my last post) are discussed at greater length and depth in two relatively recent books, one by David Dyzenhaus the other by William Rasch. I have reviewed them here.

The books substantially differ in their tones. The first, Legality and Legitimacy, reads a bit like a carefully constructed legal brief, the second, Carl Schmitt: State and Society is more of an intellectual history and is somewhat more rhapsodic. However, both display  impressive scholarship. 

Now, there is room, in my view, both for J.S. Bach's Art of the Fugue and Cecil Taylor's Spring of Two Blue-J's. Both of those works are praiseworthy in spite of their extremely different styles. That's true of these two fascinating books on Weimar as well. However, leaving their undeniable artistic merits aside, one may ask: Was either of their authors able to rehabilitate parliamentarianism after Schmitt's devastating assault? Please remember that I don't claim that that was the goal of either work, or that it is generally acceptable to criticize a work for failing to reach a bar that was never sought by its creator. Nevertheless, the question of the soundness of Schmitt's critique is not only a matter of particular interest to me, but is today something that should be of prime importance to...well...everyone. So, without claiming this as a demerit of either book (after all, neither the Bach nor the Taylor does much on this front either), I feel the need to mention that I think the answer to the question of whether either book manages to restore democracy to a solid footing is NO. 

But, to be honest, I'm not sure that anybody can pull that off. Because, of course, it remains quite possible that, however wrong Schmitt was about any number of things, and however disingenuous and otherwise reprehensible he was as a person, he actually DID mount unanswerable objections to both democracy and liberalism. In any case, I hope to take my own crack at a more directed response to his refutation in upcoming work on those subjects.

Carl Schmitt I: The Refutations of Liberalism, Democracy, and Legal Positivism

 

For at least the last 20 years, there has been a steady flow of books about Carl Schmitt, the man sometimes referred to as "Hitler's Favorite Jurist."  In fact, my desire to write a review of some recent book or another on Schmitt has been regularly stymied by the fact that there are so many interesting ones to choose from. (So, nothing here yet.)

There are several reasons for this lasting fascination. First, Schmitt was both very smart and an extremely engaging writer. He could put the deepest questions surrounding democracy, the rule of law, or constitutionalism in a way that can not only be understood by the non-specialist, but that is actually as captivating as a novel. He had a particular flair for the jarring proclamation and famously started off a couple of his books with absolute corkers.

Second, he is attractive to xenophobes (including unabashed racists and anti-Semites), as well as to extremely partisan "Us vs. Them" types of many other stripes. Whether or not his signing on to Nazism and descent into explicit anti-Semitism were entirely sincere or more matters of self-protection, his division of the world into "Friends" and "Enemies" certainly makes fandom captivating for those with certain proclivities.

Third, as suggested in the first reason above, his critiques of liberalism, democracy and legal positivism are incisive and deep. Anyone wanting to hang on to some more conventional (read: "acceptable") theory of government or jurisprudence is likely to feel like they are struggling as helplessly as the Nemean Lion in Hercules' grasp. Schmitt's arguments for "decisionism" and against the effectiveness of government by norms of the Kelsenian variety are very, very good. 

Schmitt argued that constitutionalism, indeed the rule of law generally, is a kind of pathetic joke. Because, after all, somebody had to make these constitutions and must continue to bless the alleged meanings of their contained provisions if they are to have any effect. Furthermore, since liberalism is animated by a certain sort of proposition, for example, that all people have the unalienable right to free speech, whatever some majority may want, it seems to be contrary to democracy. For the latter requires that the people must get what they want, and that it cannot be subservient even to glorious-sounding propositions. However, democracy has its own needs. It requires that each person be equal to every other one, at least in some extremely important respect, and that is itself a principle of liberalism--or at least an example of what is claimed to be an undeniable truth. Self-government needs equality to make sense, but it cannot itself establish it.

Such considerations may all seem pretty abstract, so consider a particular event: the creation of the U.S. Constitution, a document taken by many Americans to be a sort of divine gospel, handed down to a bunch of conventioneers gathering in Philadelphia in the late 18th Century (arguably for a little bloodless coup). It's worth noting that Schmitt would say that gang pretty much had to have been commissioned by the Almighty for this work, because there wasn't the slightest thing democratic about their pleas for a more powerful Congress. The Articles of Confederation (under which they presumably operated) explicitly prohibited amendment except by unanimous consent of all the states. But, after the failure of a few half-hearted attempts to revise the Articles by Charles Pinckney, the Constitutional Convention convened and simply blew the whole thing up and started over. By what right could that batch of "founders"--or anyone else not specifically sanctioned by the Articles --have produced a law with actual effect? (And, of course, the same objections may be brought against the drafters of those old Articles.)

A similar description would fit the birth of the Weimar Constitution ("formally promulgated" in 1919) with which Schmitt was so closely connected: as no people gave anyone the authority to claim that document was law (and how could they?) either such authority was granted by the heavens or was simply taken as if it had been. And in either case the drafters would have to insist on the existence of one or the other brand of authority. For Schmitt, that means that some person or group would have to make a decision. Even if that decision provides for an extremely democratic parliament, it can have done so only in an entirely undemocratic fashion. It must have simply taken control and winged it.

In spite of appearances, this situation isn't essentially changed once a constitution is claimed to be in effect. Someone--a court, legislature, or executive--must be empowered to determine when its provisions are relevant, and if so, precisely what they mean. The constitution supersedes the legislature it has created only when, if, and because someone with sufficient power says it does. Even those who insist that there are moral entailments lodged within every statute and legal situation that need only to be sussed out by competent jurists, will have to admit that these "experts" must be granted the authority to find and publish these entailments as new law. Otherwise, as Hilary Putnam might say, "They're just more theory."

So, Schmitt concludes, no matter how imperious any legal proclamation may sound, such "norms" are no more substantial than crusty, moth-eaten papers that disintegrate into powder when touched. Somebody must always decide what is and what is not required by law.

Well then, who gets to decide? The people surely...but if there is disagreement (as there nearly always is), which people? (If we were in a majoritarian democracy, we'd have an answer to this, but alas....) Answering this question is where Schmitt's friend/enemy analysis comes into play. First of all, as may be obvious, where there are disputes, the ultimate decision-makers can only be, let's call them, "the winners," those with the ultimate power to enforce their will. And only they will be able to determine just who they are, who gets to be part of the in-group. We can know, though, that they will be united by their beliefs. Schmitt says that such unity makes them friends, in this sense, a homogeneous group. Those who would deny them their power are perforce their enemies--the "other." 

As no norm--say, some supposed "natural law"--constrains this group of winners, they can do anything they want to do. (Not "pretty much anything they want to do" but exactly anything at all.) Their sovereign power is absolute and unlimited--to an even greater extent than Hobbes' Leviathan. It is easy to see why Schmitt's philosophy was found congenial by the Nazi Party.

What responses can be given to Schmitt's arguments? One might try to push anarchism, which, having no interest in state power, can insist on the existence of liberal rights but agree with Schmitt that, since both norms and formal democracy are impotent, there is no way to create  lawful state power through their use. Another approach would be to claim that one cannot coherently deny the truth of certain liberal norms at all. One might say, in other words, that as certain truths are "self-evident," no decision made in violation of any of them can be rational. That's a pretty response, certainly. Perhaps the easiest thing to do is simply call Schmitt's position reprehensible. (After all, he embraced Nazism!) Even more convenient, one might just ignore it and let things go on however they happen to be going on. Of course, that approach works best for those who are doing well as things are, those who happen to be living the dream in a limited government maintaining a liberal conception of such rights as the popularly claimed one to personal property. That blessing is, naturally, particularly inviolable as creator-endowed "rights" go.

I myself think there is another approach that can be taken to Schmitt's quite difficult challenges. I will try to indicate its general direction in my next couple of blog posts (and, if I can ever figure out which book(s) to focus on, in my next Hornbook review at 3:16 AM Magazine, perhaps there as well).

Something I Wrote in 2019 About a Musical Analog to "A Failure to Communicate"

I want to say something about two of Morton Feldman's final works, Piano and String Quartet (1985) and Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello (1987). Something that, perhaps weirdly, seems to me connected with  the current polarization of political thought in America.

Both the piano quartet and the piano quintet go back to the late 18th Century. In fact, both Mozart and Beethoven wrote piano quartets in 1785, exactly 200 years before Feldman published his Piano and String Quartet. I believe, though, that Feldman's two works are unlike any other pieces written with this instrumentation in one important respect: in both pieces, the strings almost never play at the same time as the piano. In all prior (and, I assume, all later) works, there is some sort of "melding," harmonization, or counterpoint between the voices. In Feldman's, the only interaction or "discussion" is a sort of confused, sometimes completely uncomprehending, statement and response. In these works the strings and the piano are entirely polarized, in different worlds, and none of the members of either group (hands or fingers in the case of the piano) "disagrees" very much with anyone within its own tribe, There may be occasional slight discrepancies in the "view" expressed by the cello as compared with that put forward by the violin, but they are generally in accord, both rhythmically and harmonically.

So, in both works, there is this utter inability to really communicate or coalesce with "others." In each one can imagine two species (or cultural groups) slowly making their way through immense chunks of time, each entirely unable to grasp what the other is doing. Bad mimicry is the extent of the "understanding."

These pieces are often called "melancholy" because of their length, slow pace, and repetitiousness. And also, of course, because of the choice of chords and timbres Feldman favored throughout his career. But to me they also seem sad because they show inherent limitations, both within individuals and groups, in getting outside oneself. For me, each work is a good musical expression of both contemporary political polarization and what can happen to the earth when species fail to understand each other.

That is what the two pieces seem to me to have in common. There are differences too, however. The earlier and more aptly named Piano and String Quartet is, to me, quite difficult to listen to because the piano plays nothing whatever except single, upward-flowing arpeggios, separated by whatever (usually harmonics) chord the strings respond with. After about five minutes, I want to stick a pencil through both of my eardrums--especially when I remember that the piece will go on like this for over an hour. Each group here has nothing much to say: it is the incomprehension between ocean waves (at low tide) and a piece of sea glass that's stuck in the sand. Maybe this music could be background for those who find it relaxing while reading or trying to fall asleep, but I don't think one can really attend to it. I can't, anyhow. It's just irritating.

The later piece is very different in that regard. While there is again a ton of repetition, there is the sort of variety one can find on Fox News or CNN broadcasts or within a batch of various canines. They are again stuck in their separate, inviolable boxes, but are not really one-note Johnnies--at least to those who can "get" their spiels. Here, the name of the work is (I bet intentionally) misleading. They are not individual voices--piano, violin, viola, cello at all. Rather they are two groups again, but now, not entirely homogeneous. Each has become inherently interesting, even in its stubborn isolation from all other groups.

Anyhow, I think it is a great masterpiece, and a fitting swansong to Feldman's incredible legacy. You can listen to it here

Which Views are Sensible, Which Off the Wall?

Is it obvious that the Earth is a globe or is it actually more certain that it couldn't be? And does it really matter which view is the more natural one for an unbiased investigator to take? When we are assaulted on all sides by claims that may seem crazy on their face, should we commit to finding things out on our own and not taking anybody else's word for anything, or is the sensible thing to look around for experts, since we surely have neither the time, money nor expertise  to figure out most things on our own?  But what if the experts are wrong--or worse, members of a powerful group that has the intention of deceiving the rest of us? Who, what can we trust?

Kelly Weill's Over the Edge provides her deep take on these matters. It's about conspiracy theories and how they grab some people and seem to wrestle all the rationality out of them. Thanks to the internet,  craziness--including some very perilous versions--is growing by leaps and bounds. This makes her book not only gripping but politically important. You can read my review of it here. 

Naturally, Weill can't answer all the crucial epistemological questions: some have puzzled history's greatest thinkers. But it provides insight into both the most personal and the most dangerous angles. There is infinite Antarctic ice to be found here, and brazen hucksterism, and blatant antisemitism, and lizard people, and arguments with cracked premises and only insults for conclusions, and accidental death on behalf a cuckoo theory, delivered by a powerful steam rocket's impact with the Earth. 

The crossword in the picture above is an homage to Susan Haack's classic Evidence and Inquiry, a a book whose "foundherentism" centers on the fact that we cannot just get lost in the "across clues": we must always also consider the "downs."

 

Two-ish Cheers for Samuel Issacharoff's New Book

My Hornbook review of Democracy Unmoored is now out at 3:16 AM Magazine here. I had actually expected it to appear at a different venue, but, based on the multitude of revision requests I received (including some pretty strange ones), I got the feeling that the book review editor there vehemently disagreed with my take on the work. So I pulled it.* 

Anyhow, it should be easy to see that I think the book has considerable merits, even if Issacharoff's overall take is somewhat more conservative (or perhaps just less Rah! Rah! Democracy!!) than my own perspective. And I want to add here that interactions of that sort make me even more grateful to Richard Marshall for the pulpit he has generously afforded me at 3:16.

As always, comments are most welcome.

* Of course, it's also quite possible that they just thought my review was crappy. Naturally, I don't love that interpretation, but I'll let my readers decide that for themselves.

Yascha Mounk's New Book Isn't Really THAT Bad

Yascha Mounk's The Great Experiment: Why Diverse Democracies Fall Apart and How They Can Endure has taken some fairly visceral abuse of late. (See, in particular Ian Beacock's review in The New Republic.) This response may stem not so much from anything within the pages of the book but rather result from Mounk's participation on the punditry circuit--particularly within Persuasion, his centrist, neo-liberal Substack. In any case, he seems to have managed to inspire somewhat biting commentary from both his left and his right.

While I don't myself think The Great Experiment moves the discussion very far forward--and I'm pretty confident that none of Mounk's proposed remedies are capable of doing much to reduce the frequency or intensity of conflicts occurring either between diverse ethnic, racial or cultural groups or within individual groups--I also don't think this book deserves quite the pounding it has taken in some quarters. I mean, even sketches of inhuman brutality around the world along with the description of bromides claimed likely to reduce their number can be put engagingly, and--somewhat unusually for writers on democracy--Mounk has done that. His book is both elegantly written and interesting throughout, and those alone seem to me noteworthy merits.

Anyhow, my new Hornbook review of the work can be found here.

Why Not Parliamentarism?--Review and Rejoinder

My latest Hornbook Review at 3:16 AM is of Tiago Santos' excellent book on parliamentarism and can be found HERE. While we agree on the main issues, I did find a couple of things to complain about in Tiago's work (when do I ever not?), so I thought it would be nice to give the author an opportunity to respond here at luckorcunning. I'm grateful that he did generously provide the following remarks:

It is probably petty of me to write a rejoinder for such a flattering review, but anyway, here we are. It is clear that Horn and I agree on a fundamental level on the majority of issues. Still, I would like to address the two paragraphs where there is some disagreement and try to clarify my views. Setting aside that I am not sure I would endorse democracy if it were consistently associated with terrible outcomes, I would point out that the parliamentary type of democracy is exactly the one most prone to bringing about “what the people there want”. My point is that whatever justification you think is most important for a form of government, whether achieving good outcomes, or achieving what people want, parliamentary democracy is superior to presidential democracy.

I also do not think the book the book has an epistocratic tinge. I admit I do agree with Jason Brennan that the quality of votes can matter significantly. However, I don’t think an epistocratic form of government could be implemented in any practical way. One reason is that those qualities are distributed normally, so that any cutoff point would seem arbitrary. A second is that any such proposal, even if theoretically sound, would face insurmountable political challenges. However, the main point is that neither Caplan’s nor (Geoffrey) Brennan and Hamlin’s analysis of voting, which are the ones my book relies on, depend on there being any kind of difference in rationality among voters for the undesirable results (both from an outcome point of view as well as from a “what voters actually want” view) to come about. In fact, Both Caplan, as well as Brennan and Hamlin assume rationality.

And this does matter for the parliamentary-presidential debate. In elections for president, it is much easier for a candidate to choose a few salient issues (while ignoring the vast number of other problems a country may have) and run their campaign on those issues alone, making the presidential elections close to a plebiscite on them. Smart candidates with little concern to the actual consequences of their promises will pick exactly those kinds of issues which will gather expressive support. Candidates in parliamentary systems, however, will much more often depend on a well-organized party, which will not have the luxury of ignoring the consequences.

All in all, the fact that both a critic of epistocracy such as Walter Horn as well as a proponent of it as Jason Brennan have endorsed parliamentarism* over presidentialism appears to show the robustness of parliamentarism (or, conversely, the fragility of presidentialism).

*As readers of my book will have noted, Jason Brennan was very kind to have written a blurb for the book. In a terrible lapse, I failed to thank him in the acknowledgment section. So I hope I can use this opportunity to very belatedly thank him (and Horn, of course) for the words.

--Tiago Santos

 

Jan-Werner Muller's Book is Very Good

I have now reviewed a baker's dozen worth of books on democratic theory and closely related subjects for 3:16 AM Magazine since about the time COVID-19 started to amuse itself around the world by messing with human beings. Most of these books have seemed to me quite good, somehow managing to add a section or two to the vast quilt of sometimes useful information on self-governing that has gradually accumulated since Plato's time. For it's worth, I think this one may be the best of this little batch. There is just something...I don't know...wise--or maybe farsighted--about Muller's way of handling the issues. He seems to have a solid understanding of pretty much everything that needs to be reckoned with for a reasonable comprehensive theory to emerge. Not only does he consider all the possible counter-examples to views he suggests, he doesn't simply bat them away: he takes them into account. I suppose part of this vibe might be attributed to stylistic elegance. But it infuses the substance as well.

Anyhow, that's enough kvelling. My complete review can be found here.

 

 

 

Two Sets of Strange Bedfellows on How to Live

In an even more violent break from democratic theory than exemplified in my last couple of “Eastern Philosophy” entries (a practice I will almost certainly not continue–at least not very often–in the new year!), I decided to put together a seasonal “philosophy of life” piece containing positions found in the work of two prominent religious figures that I (a distinctly non-religious person) happen to find congenial. Whether this amalgamation should be considered an actual “philosophy” or is just a pastiche will, of course, be a matter of opinion. I hope, though, that it at least manages to be internally consistent in spite of its being little more than a concatenation of portions of Ecclesiastes (purged of all God talk and its own internal contradictions) and Buddhism (purged of all talk of Karma, rebirth and emptiness, and utilizing a simplified concept of Dependent Origination).

 

Even without making any attempt to produce a decent case for the view outlined here, this project seemed a lot to manage without significant research. Clearly, it would take a ton of time and trouble if I had to do it on my own. Having no ready human collaborators available, I called upon the vast computing power of ChatAI for help.† And with the assistance of that behemoth, I was able to fabricate the Frankenstein monster found below in about a week.

 

In addition to consistency, I hope our result manages a decent level of coherence, for it must be acknowledged that the two thinkers being thrown together here have only rarely been thought of as compatriots over the last couple of millennia. Of course, it's a lot easier to fit two world pictures comfortably together if the puzzle-solver is allowed to alter or truncate pieces wherever it is convenient to do so; and that is what ChatAI and I have done. But, in spite of the liberties that my digital assistant and I have taken on that front, I believe a number of contemporary Buddha and Qoheleth devotees may find our goulash agreeable. In any event, ignoring Buddhist warnings about the dangers of fabricating, what follows is our concoction.

 

Among the most basic Buddhist injunction is that each seeker should engage in a quest (though without craving!) for equanimity. And that aspiration must take precedence over any such activities as hating, mourning, killing, dancing, laughing or casting stones–all the sorts of behaviors the author of Ecclesiastes says (so eloquently) that there “is a time for.” Perhaps, Qoheleth's admonition that these activities should take place only in their appropriate times handles that peril. It may also be, however, that it's not only particular times that are required for the various activities, but also particular ways of weeping, laughing and the rest.

 

There are other tensions between the writings of these two sages too. But however stark the differences between these texts may be claimed to be, it should be obvious that there are a number of similarities as well. Consider, e.g., “The labor of the wise enriches them, but the foolish only exhaust themselves" (Ecclesiastes 10:15 CSB). This suggests that toil can bring fulfillment/enrichment, only so long as it is approached with wisdom and understanding. That sort of “mindfulness-in-action” is, of course, a staple of Buddhist thought.

 

Again, "He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves abundance with its income. This also is vanity" (5:10). This passage will surely remind many of the Buddhist principle that excessive craving for material possessions or wealth can never satisfy; indeed, it can lead only to frustration and disappointment.

 

It may seem that even Qoheleth is of more than one mind regarding our labors, claiming both their value and that they are all “vanity and vexation of spirit.” I think, though, this apparent contradiction is handled by realizing that when Qoheleth instructs us to take pleasure from “our works” at the same time he accuses nearly everything “under the sun” of being little more than vanity, he means that we should enjoy the labors themselves, whatever may be derived from their products. It cannot be denied though, that in addition to seeing labor itself as a fitting object of personal satisfaction, Qoheleth sometimes seems quite confident that no harm comes from enjoyment of such fruits of our work as wealth, success, or wisdom, so long as this gratification is taken in moderation and without excessive pride. He seems to say that when we partake of such goods, we must simultaneously remember that our lives are quite short and we can never know much about the mysteries of the universe or where it’s ultimately taking us. Some of us may be more prone to folly than others, but the basic, essential limits of human knowledge are largely unaffected by how rich, famous, or “wise” this or that thinker is or might become. We are all infinitesimal creatures.

 

In any case, hard work and productivity are claimed to be importantly valuable aspects of life if considered in the appropriate light and enjoyed in the appropriate manner. The theory, somewhat similar to that urged upon Arjuna by Krishna on the battlefield, is that engaging in honest labor provides its own satisfaction regardless of one's station, and those benefits may be obtained without necessitating the acquisition of any harmful attachments. Our toil may also contribute valuable distractions from our inescapable and universal fate; distractions which, if handled correctly, contain no toxins. In sum, Qoheleth may be understood to say that if we are careful to do so in a manner that avoids craving and clinging, enjoying food, drink, and other simple pleasures will contribute to happy and fulfilling lives. A Buddhist might put it that, to be safe, such pleasures must always be sought and ultimately enjoyed with mindfulness, and should be consequent only upon a meditation-engendered understanding of appropriate and inappropriate desires, based not only on their objects, but also their nature and intensity.

 

The Buddha agrees with Qoheleth that the quest for any sort of enjoyment must be of a particular, moderate sort:  "Those who are slaves to craving go round and round in samsara, bound by their… thoughts of 'I' and 'mine'" (Sutta Nipata 713).  This emphasis on the dangers of clinging and attachment, and their tendency to keep us trapped in a cycle of suffering and dissatisfaction can be found throughout the Suttas. Here is another example: "Bhikkhus, the craving of a person who is not free from craving for sensual pleasures is like the hunger of a person who has not eaten for a week. Bhikkhus, the craving of a person who is not free from craving for becoming is like the hunger of a person who has not eaten for a month. Bhikkhus, the craving of a person who is not free from craving for not-becoming is like the hunger of a person who has not eaten for a year" (Sutta Nipata 714). This is a key element of  Buddhist thinking: cravings and attachments all eventually become all-consuming. They must therefore be understood to be absolutely destructive to well-being. And in addition to the dangers of attachments, the Buddha also warns of harms necessarily attendant upon excessive anger, aversion, jealousy, resentment, hate, etc.

 

Not an entirely melancholic religion, Buddhism provides an antidote to this predicament in its teaching of Dependent Origination. This law of universal causation is thought to provide a way to prevent the acquisition of a wanted good–or the resentment, jealousy or disappointment ensuing from a failure to obtain it–from leading one into addiction, depression or withdrawal. According to the theory, the solution to omnipresent suffering starts with the recognition that every event and individual object in the world arises in dependence on other factors as well as causal laws. This means that no state of affairs or thing exists independently or in isolation from prior and concurrent causes and conditions, but each is instead interconnected with and dependent on other states and things for both its existence and its particular characteristics. As we have little control over most of the relevant prior conditions that affect us, we should infer that we have quite limited control over our fates–except as they are a function of acceptance/resistance of what happens to confront us.

 

But why is there claimed to be this crucial difference between our control over what happens to us and our subsequent reactions? Isn’t all of it beyond our ability to change? The Buddhist idea seems to be that we retain a portion of autonomy in spite of the universality of Dependent Origination. How is this possible? In attempting an exit from this maze, I think it is helpful to begin  by recognizing that various wildly different species of “cause” pop up in the many specifications of Dependent Origination found in the Suttas,* and to proceed we must first excise from the theory all supposed elements that are not clear examples of efficient causation (an event X bringing about event Y, the way a shove may bring about someone's fall). This simplification is important because, e.g., it is odd to call oxygen (or, say, the shape of the Earth) “the cause–or even a cause–of one of Shakespeare’s sonnets or of Argentina’s recent victory in the World Cup Final. Without the removal of several of the types of elements commonly included in the Dependent Origination theory, we will be left with just such misleading anomalies. To say, for example that John's misstep was "caused by ignorance" is bound to lead to the same sort of confusion. However, after we complete a filtering intended to leave only such items as can be reasonably claimed to be efficient causes, we will see that that even the remaining (billiard-ball-hitting-type) events are not by themselves sufficient to do the work proposed of them: each is still only a necessary predecessor that cannot make anything happen without help.

 

How does this lack of sufficiency provide an escape from utter powerlessness? Consider just these causal event types that remain in our modified version of Dependent Origination: ".....From contact [through one of the six sense media] as a requisite condition comes feeling. From feeling as a requisite condition comes craving. From craving as a requisite condition comes clinging/sustenance. From clinging/sustenance as a requisite come….sorrow, lamentation, pain, distress, & despair." (Samyutta Nikaya 12.2). Arguably, we have examples only of efficient causes now: a particular perceptual experience causes a particular feeling, etc. But it remains the case that more seems to be required to ensure the emergence of any particular consequence that is specified. The Buddhist idea is that human beings can prevent the addition of some of these required “extras.” We can, that is, simply stop the process between a percept and particular sort of feeling or between dangerous types of feeling and the emergence of cravings.⟡ For according to Buddhist doctrine, we can learn to dissociate our sense perceptions from ensuing incidences of either  pleasure or pain.⸋ Thus, from sense-content no particular feeling need arise, and even if we cannot stop things there, craving and the rest need not inexorably follow. That, in a word, is the power to stop new addictions and overcome old ones. In the same way, aversions and other negative responses can be avoided. This ability is thought to be the key to overcoming dukkha, the existential suffering that may seem to be irrevocably attached to human existence.

 

There thus seems no problem with taking Qohelethian, tempered enjoyment in simple pleasures: those who partake in that fashion need not become overly attached to anything as a result. No more, certainly than will be associated with minimal nutritional sustenance. Gaining this ability would seem to allow us to live more balanced and less ascetic or guilt-ridden lives. Our goals must always be sensible ones however, and our strivings to reach every one of them them restrained. A recognition of the interdependence of all living beings may also encourage the cultivation of a sense of compassion for others and help us overcome resentment and jealousy. It may be that to reach our goal of equanimity we will need to walk some distance along the Buddha’s Eightfold Path of right speech, right thinking, right livelihood and the rest, but we need not follow it down any turning where it disallows such activities as laughing, weeping, dancing, eating, drinking or mourning; perhaps even hating and killing can be allowed when and where there is good cause and these activities are undertaken without excessive malice.

 

It can be seen that recognizing the truth of Dependent Origination must involve accepting the limits of our ability to control our destinies or understand what will happen to us after we die. It also seems to entail that wishing and petitionary prayer are not only a waste of time, but may actually be pernicious, both because they are inconsistent with an understanding of the causal constraints on everything in the known world, and because they may be expressions of unhealthy types of desire. By acknowledging the uncertainty and impermanence of life, we can let go of such attachments and live in the present moment with a sense of peace and contentment. Again, however, we must maintain only sensible goals and be willing to work at achieving them, rather than spend our time wishing or praying.

 

So far, so good. But where both sages seem to me to err is in their failure to recognize that claims about such matters as God, rebirth, “self,” essences, nirvana, and karma are not the sorts of things that can ever be substantiated. For these are, as philosophers say nowadays, “heavyweight” matters.  All such assertions go beyond what any person–or even any scientific investigations–can confirm. Being metaphysical queries, obtaining definitive, universally satisfying answers to them would require an ability to go outside all "conceptual schemes" or "categories" produced by our upbringings, language, philosophical training, individual temperaments etc.  We are, in the words of Everett Hall all ensconced in what he called "categorio-centric predicaments" from which no one can escape. So, for good or ill, deep wisdom of the ontological (What is there in the world?) or axiological (What are the right things to be done?) kinds is simply impossible for homo sapiens.# 

No doubt both Gautama Siddhartha and Qoheleth are usually considered religious figures rather than philosophers, and their works may be counted as “wisdom literature.” Their readers and admirers may therefore not care too much about my concerns with respect to epistemic limitations. However that may be, I hope a feasible course of action for the troubled among us who are uncomfortable with religion will have begun to come into view. For it seems to me possible to find a humbler, more judicious place to rest in the works of these two thinkers, a plateau where even a skeptic might find comfort.

 

It is interesting that both the Buddha and Qoheleth sometimes speak as though they understand and accept the limits of rational thought, but at others clearly forget these constraints and make claims that cannot be justified without revelation. Ecclesiastes contains occasional God-assumptions that should be considered inconsistent with rational limits: "[W]ho can tell someone what will happen after he is gone? (10:14) and “I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after the wind….He who increases knowledge increases sorrow." (1:16-18) And for his part the Buddha famously upbraids those of his monks who pestered him with what he considered to be pointless philosophical queries by reminding them that he had never promised to "...elucidate to you either that the world is eternal, or that the world is not eternal, or that the saint neither exists or does not exist after death." And he tells them that "The religious life does not depend on the dogma that the world is eternal; nor does the religious life depend on the dogma that the world is not eternal.  Whether the dogma obtain that the world is eternal, or that the world is not eternal, there still remain birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair, for the extinction of which in the present life I am prescribing.  The religious life does not depend on the dogma that the world is finite. The religious life does not depend on the dogma that the soul and the body are identical. The religious life does not depend on the dogma that the saint both exists and does not exist after death; nor does the religious life depend on the dogma that the saint neither exists nor does not exist after death." He explains why the religious life fails to involve expounding on such matters: "Because this profits not, nor has to do with the fundamentals of religion nor tends to aversion, absence of passion, cessation, quiescence, the supernatural faculties, supreme wisdom, and Nirvana; therefore I have not elucidated it." (Majjhima Nikaya 63)

 

Now, it may be objected that despite my own assurances to the contrary, there is metaphysics aplenty in any claim that we can somehow exempt ourselves from causal laws by dissociating various perceptual experiences from pleasure, pain, craving, or aversion. In response, let me first say that I make no pretense of eschewing metaphysics entirely. To the extent that I assume the existence of people, causes, aging, individual suffering, death, and the like, I adopt a common-sense worldview that cannot be strictly demonstrated to be veridical. But as to the specific objection regarding allegedly sneaking out of the jaws of Dependent Origination in order to capture some sort of “equanimity” for those practicing “right meditation,” I insist that I am relying on empiricism only. I suggest simply that one may try and see, and I note that, at the very least, many throughout history have claimed success in their own searches for equanimity and peace by the use of the proffered techniques. I abjure from speculations about what may be beyond what we can experience for oneselves, and I propose no general theories involving free will or determinism.$

 

In summary, the patchwork philosophy of life concocted here with the help of my computerized assistant out of various tenets of Qoheleth and the Buddha acknowledges the depth and inescapability of human ignorance, emphasizes the importance of hard work/productivity, and, eschewing even partial asceticism, confers value upon simple pleasures. However, success in achieving a happy and fulfilling life is argued also to generally require diligent mindfulness, whatever may be one’s luck (or lack of it) “under the sun.” The good news is that, no matter the level of success, wealth, or wisdom we may happen to achieve--whether by luck or cunning-- we can, by aspiring for equanimity and practicing moderation and mindfulness (even in that quest!) overcome harmful craving and unhealthy attachments and come to live in the present moment with a sense of peace. Reaching a state of such contentment may require an understanding and acceptance of Dependent Origination in something like the form elucidated here, and there is little doubt that such understanding is useful in this sort of quest. But, however the case may be with respect to propositional knowledge of the workings of causation in human affairs, it is clear that one must learn how to carry out certain dissociative techniques in accordance with the precepts of this theory. The balanced approach to life set forth herein can help practitioners find both fulfillment and calm–as well as relief from guilt–even in the face of both pervasive constraints on our autonomy and the apparently ineliminable uncertainty attached to every single philosophically "heavyweight" proposition that can be asserted, whether factual or moral.

 

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† For a brief and fairly breezy explanation of the background for and mechanics of my collaboration with ChatAI, see my new essay in Erraticus.

 

* So, for example, ignorance is not the sort of thing that can be an efficient cause, however it may be thought to function in “producing” our (defective) understandings of the world. Nor should “name-and-form”  be thought to be an efficient cause, even if it’s true that we could have no concept of causation without its operation. Finally, neither birth, nor aging and death seem to me appropriately placed in customary statements of Dependent Origination.

 

⟡ Techniques for throwing a wrench into this machine can be found in Buddhadasa, Under the Bodhi Tree (2017) and Leigh Brasington, Dependent Origination and Emptiness (2021). It is important to understand, however, that neither of those authors–unorthodox as they may be considered by some traditionalists–would ever suggest making amendments to Buddhist doctrine. When they differ from other, more orthodox Buddhologists, they simply insist that interpretations contrary to their own exhibit misunderstandings of the Suttas. My skeptical bent (and, perhaps, excessive hubris?) has made me quite comfortable with changing or deleting any tenet that seems indefensible--or even inadequately supported.

 

⸋ For arguments in support of the possibility of these perhaps unintuitive claims, see Richard Hall, “Are Pains Necessarily Unpleasant?” (1989).

 

# This notion is explained and defended by Everett Hall’s (Richard's father!) in his Philosophical Systems: A Categorial Analysis (1960). I have written extensively on this subject--and Hall’s work generally--in my The Roots of Representationism: An Introduction to Everett Hall (2013).

 

$ I talk in some detail about various types of meditation and the practical effects they can have on one’s life in my The Perennial Solution Center (2003).