Believers in patterned principles hold that there is some preordained social order that is more just than others. Accordingly, the function of the state is to use the levers of powers to manipulate behavior to achieve the desired outcomes. These patterned principles stand in opposition to historical principles of justice, which are content to establish the rules of the game and then let the legal moves by individual players determine the social outcomes. For Nozick, the key rules were rules of justice in acquisition (to set up the initial property rights) and justice in transfer, whereby those rights (and others derived from them) could be exchanged or combined through voluntary transactions.

Further down:

Congress, alas, is a pattern junkie. In his perceptive Wall Street Journal op-ed, How Government Stoked the Mania, Russell Roberts noted that the current congressional fixation called for a relentless increase in homeownership relative to renting, with certain minimum fractions allocated to low-income families. Pray tell, what patterned principle dictates that we should have 12% of all mortgages made to low-income borrowers in 1996, 20% in 2000, 22% in 2005 and 28% by 2008?

And finally:

The grand objectives articulated by Congress--and to be fair, by Republicans who preach the virtues of the "ownership society"--are not freebies that can be satisfied at no real cost. Quite the contrary. Once Congress set in place a destructive lending policy, we could count on private parties to issue bad loans from which they profited, knowing that dear old Fannie and Freddie would happily pay face value for paper that everyone knew was worth a whole lot less.

But Congress lived in a dream world. It forgot that the quality of the paper would deteriorate as its ambitious social objectives let its underwriting go south. So, too late in the game, we learn from yet another case where Congress should have done good by doing nothing at all. Let people rent or buy in unsubsidized markets and then watch with supreme indifference what residential patterns emerge. That distribution would have been a lot less toxic than the brew generated by our fevered political leaders. So says our frustrated libertarian.

And so says this one.  This echoes my point in this earlier post.  Why is "ownership society" a good thing?

Wait, this is a democracy, and a "good thing" is what the majority says it is, you say?  Democracy is a sheep and two wolves voting on what to have for dinner.  We live, by the grace of God, not in a democracy, but a constitutional republic...

...if we can keep it.  Color me skeptical.

But Knobe, who could pass for Syler on Heroes, says Nozick has merely rationalized his intuition. Since Nozick is arguing for a mind-independent aspect to value, his left brain inner lawyer interprets his reluctance to step into the machine as a confirmation of his view. But that inner lawyer he and a majority respondents to the thought-experiment have summoned is misreading their gut reaction. Instead of demonstrating any care for how real our experience is, Knobe says our intuition is just another instance of the status quo bias. 

To illustrate this Knobe mentions a "reverse experience machine." In this version, your current experience is an illusion. But all of a sudden, the walls of that ersatz reality come crashing down and you wake up in a laboratory tank. Alarmed, your monitors tell you there was a malfunction. They give you some options. They say either you can stay awake, here in reality, where you are a weak, beta male, lumpenprole, or you can return to your regularly scheduled program in the experience machine where you are, well, you. So the status quo has been reset in this thought experiment: now instead of stepping into the machine, we're offered a chance to step out of it. Knobe says the majority of respondents in this case prefer to reboot. Status Quo, QED.   

But Knobe and Wilkinson are clearly not Cohaagen's bosom buddy:

Quaid: All right, let's say you're telling the truth and this is all a dream, I could pull this trigger and it won't matter?  
Dr. Edgemar: It won't make the slightest difference to me Doug, but the consequences to you will be devastating. In your mind I'll be dead, and with no one to guide you out, you'll be stuck in permanent psychosis. The walls of reality will come crashing down. One minute, you're the savior of the Rebel cause, next thing you know you'll be Cohaagen's bosom buddy. You'll even have fantasies about alien civilizations as you requested, but in the end, back on Earth you'll be lobotomized!

Sorry, I couldn't resist. But my left brain interpreter has to object. Let's assume the walls of my reality come crashing down and I wake up in the laboratory as Knobe says. Why would I take my monitor's word that I am a beta? Shouldn't I be a tad suspicious of anything they say? (Think of it this way, Knobe's thought experiment would have been the optimal strategy for the malevolent artificial intelligence in the Matrix. Whenever some poor soul like Neo wakes up in his pod, tell him it's not worth waking up. That'll keep him there.) Furthermore, doesn't a willingness to reboot demonstrate a woeful lack of curiosity? It is true, reality may be an ugly sight. Have you been to Los Angeles? But wouldn't it be worth investigating? What strange civilization produced these machines you find yourself in? And why? These questions lead to another weakness in the Knobe results: the fear of self-knowledge. Contrary to the herd, I would want to know who I was before I entered the machine. Why did I program it the way I did? (Why so average? Why not a Nobel winner?) Or: why did I program my loved ones that way? Am I my parents' creator? Why did I make them that way? Answers to all these questions would be interesting and they would shed some light on who I really am.

So I propose Knobe tries another experiment to follow this one up, asking respondents questions like, "Would you care to know who you were in this reality before you signed up to Recall?" and "Would you want to investigate this new world?" 

Ask those questions. Some will still want to return to the machines. It cannot be denied. Some need security blankets. But my bet is that most will still want a taste of reality, however small and brief.

ROSS CAMPBELL BARHAM
19.08.2008
School of Philosophy, Anthropology, and Social Inquiry
The University of Melbourne

0. In my thesis, I intend to advance an understanding of objectivity as essentially a methodological process that epistemologically underlies all other (relevant) senses of the concept. It is therefore incumbent upon me to demonstrate that previous, alternative conceptions are insufficient. Such then will be the overall objective of this paper [excuse the pun]. The writings of Gottlob Frege, Thomas Nagel, John Searle, and Robert Nozick, will all be treated in turn.

1. Immanuel Kant is often cited as the progenitor of the modern sense of the objective-subjective distinction.  After all, it was the profound influence (if not, perhaps, the intention) of his Critique of Pure Reason that led to the inversion of the pre-Kantian understanding, which held that the objective pertained to ideas in the mind, wheeas the subjective pertained to the world external to the mind (i.e. that which is the subject of the mind’s eye). However, while Kant’s philosophy may well have been the efficient cause of the reversal, given that his transcendental idealism does not appear to sit naturally with the realist commitments the concept of objectivity is usually taken to presume nowadays, it would be hasty, I think, to view it as the formal cause. For this reason – and hence also leaving aside the likes of Hegel and Husserl – it is Gottlob Frege’s paper, On Sense and Reference, which will act as the first noteworthy, philosophical employment of the modern concept of objectivity.

In the famous 1892 paper, Frege seeks to invoke proper names as the bearers of reference to ontological entities existing in their own right. He also wishes to acknowledge (but downplay) what he calls the sense of such names; thus, the names ‘Hesperus’ and ‘Phosphorus’ have the different senses of evening star and morning star respectively, although both refer to the same object (i.e. the planet Venus).

In contrast to the purely subjective nature of our ideas, Frege classes both sense and reference as ‘objective, inasmuch as [they] can be used by several observers.’ However, for Frege, it is reference alone that is truly objective. This is because Frege holds that proper nouns epistemically refer to ontological objects. Thus he writes, ‘The reference of a proper name is the object itself, which we designate by its means.’ By this we can appreciate, then, ‘… the reference of a sign [may be] an object perceivable by the senses’ and, furthermore, ‘places, instants, stretches of time, are [also], logically considered, objects; [and] hence the linguistic designation of a definite place, a definite instant, or a stretch of time is to be regarded as a proper name.’

In response to the sceptical question as to how we can be sure that reference is not just a particular mode of sense, without any guarantee of being veridical, the second quarter of Frege’s paper is devoted to elaborating the following four points:

(1) ‘we [typically] presuppose a reference’ when we speak;
(2) a sentence ‘loses value for us as soon as we recognize that the reference of one of its parts is missing’;
(3) it is ‘the striving for truth that drives us always to advance from the sense to the reference’; and
(4) ‘the truth value of a sentence is its reference’.

However, although he never explicitly acknowledges them as such, it is perhaps because all of these arguments are, in one way or another, either fallacious or unsound, that Frege embarks upon the more analytic, latter portion of the paper, where he systematically sets out to determine whether, universally, ‘one subordinate clause [of a sentence[ can be substituted for the other without harm to the truth.’

Famously, it turns out that not all such substitutions are unharmful.

‘This [Frege claims] arises from an imperfection of language, from which even the symbolic language of mathematical analysis is not altogether free.’ Whereas, ‘a logically perfect language ([i.e. Frege’s own] Begriffschrift) should satisfy the conditions, that every expression grammatically well constructed as a proper name out of signs already introduced shall in fact [directly] designate an object, and that no new sign shall be introduced as a proper name without being secured a [direct] reference.’

The idea here is that a logically perfect language would finally be able to identify and eradicate any possibility of references without referents, and, so, be able answer the skeptic’s concerns. If, for instance, the proper noun, ‘Ricki Bliss’, were to be introduced into the language, something resembling a background check would be made, so to speak, to ensure that all the indirect references we typically make of Ricki (such as, ‘the girl who says ‘pleeease’ so characteristically’), actually do refer to the object we know by the sign, ‘Ricki Bliss’. And if they don’t, they’d be promptly deleted from the language. Similarly, if we found ourselves with a potentially indirect reference, such as ‘the creator and overseer of the universe’, a logically perfect language would be able to logically determine if its apparent reference existed or not.

It’s an appealing thought, and may well have inspired, both, the philosophy of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, and the verificationist movement.  But, even so, it is not sufficiently grounded to serve here as the basis for an understanding of objectivity. This is for two reasons:

(1) Firstly, the objectivity of the proposed underlying logic (the Begriffschrift) itself remains to be established. While I do believe that the superior objectivity of formal systems, such as are found in logic and mathematics, can be readily demonstrated, Frege’s own account is remiss in doing so.
(2) Secondly (and, I believe, more significantly), even by Frege’s own lights it is admitted that our knowledge of the world is finite and limited. As he writes near the opening of the article under consideration: ‘Comprehensive knowledge of [a] reference would require us to say immediately whether any given sense belongs to it. To such knowledge we never attain.’ But, if this is the case, it seems implausible that we could do away with our reliance on empirical means for expanding our general knowledge of objects in the world (regardless of the supposed logical perfection of his sought-after language). And, while, admittedly, it is outside the scope of his article, nonetheless, Frege himself offers no explanation (general or specific) as to, either, whether or how this subsidiary process might be more or less objective.

In conclusion, then, while Frege’s philosophy indicates promising inroads to a deeper understanding of the nature of objectivity, the account he provides is not sufficiently grounded or comprehensive for the purpose of providing a full account of objectivity.

2. A criticism similar to the one made above, can be levelled against Thomas Nagel’s famous work of 1986, The View from Nowhere.

Nagel writes of objectivity as being a process of ‘step[ping] back from our initial view, and form[ing] a new conception which has that view and its relation to the world as its object.’  But, although he acknowledges that ‘sometimes it will be thought to yield a result when it really doesn’t’,  he offers no explanation for how and when we are to avoid such errors. That is to say, Nagel’s variety of objectivity is not sufficiently explained (or instructed) so as to guarantee authenticity. (Similar such criticisms are often made of mystical transcendence, although at least they provide ‘proofs’ in the (admittedly still contentious) forms of miracles, halos and compassion.) Presumably, Nagel believes that the type of philosophical analysis he undertakes to develop this view, is itself inherently objective. But, in Nagel (as with Frege), this condition of self-reflexivity is left wanting.

That said, this is not the principle criticism to be made of Nagel’s account. Instead, an insight may be effectively borrowed from Andrew Collier’s In Defence of Objectivity.

Therein Collier makes the distinction between intentional and reflexive objectivity. As an example he compares the nature-of and relation-between Theology and Religious Studies. The former is said to be intentional, whereas the latter is reflexive. Thus, Theology intentionally studies God as the object of religion, whereas Religious Studies reflexively contemplates religion (including Theology) as its object.

On the face of it, Collier’s account may seem very close to Nagel’s own characterisation. To quote Nagel at some length:

We can add to our knowledge of the world by accumulating information at a given level – by extensive observation from one standpoint. But we can raise our understanding to a new level only if we examine that relation between the world and ourselves which is responsible for our prior understanding, and form a new conception that includes a more detached understanding of ourselves, of the world, and of the interaction between them. Thus objectivity allows us to transcend our particular viewpoint and develop an expanded consciousness that takes in the world more fully. All this applies to values and attitudes as to beliefs and theories.

Thus, Nagel would presumably hold that Religious Studies is more objective than Theology. This, I suspect, is a fairly natural and common assumption to make, especially insofar as it is generally recognised that the sciences are able to attain to such high degrees of objectivity in their observations and experiments, essentially by measuring the measurer via rigorous processes of calibration, and the calculation of margins of error and degrees of confidence. But, while it is perhaps natural to think this, it is misguided, nonetheless. The sciences use such self-monitoring techniques not to adopt new, reflexive viewpoints. Rather they do so as an inherent part of the base-level, intentional perspective. By analogy, then, a traditional theologian, such as St Augustine, might be thought to ‘calibrate’ his faculties via the recitation of a canonical prayer, rather than the establishment of an additional, reflexive discipline. Furthermore, if, as Nagel’s own account admits, ‘the process [of objectification] can be repeated, yielding … still more objective conception[s]’, when is the process thought to end? As Collier puts it:

If, out of respect for reflexive objectivity, one were to declare only Religious Studies and not Theology as a respectable academic discipline, a sociologist of knowledge who made it their business to study Religious Studies departments could, with as much justice, substitute their discipline for Religious Studies, only to be displaced in turn by a psychologist who studied sociologists of knowledge, and so on.

The force of this scenario is not as trite as it may first seem. Collier is not, for instance, merely saying that, absolute objectivity cannot pragmatically be realised because it would presumably involve an infinite hierarchy of reflexive disciplines. Rather, he is trying to point out that greater objectivity does not necessarily arise from having such transcendental hierarchies, either for the lower or the higher levels. As he quite rightly emphasises: “What reflexive objectivity can never be is the criterion of intentional objectivity. The sociologist of science cannot judge whether the science studied is bad science, only why it is when it is.”  That is to say, the nature of objectivity and its legitimate sources must be established and determined from within the intentional viewpoint itself. The addition of a reflexive viewpoint only raises the further question of how it then can be assured objectivity itself. The reflexive position, however, cannot, merely by virtue of being reflexive, hope for itself greater objectivity than its object. Nor will it provide a criterion of objectivity for the base-level, intentional viewpoint. And finally, while an intentional viewpoint may well be able to attain for itself greater objectivity by becoming more self-reflexive as a result of establishing a reflexive viewpoint, such increased objectivity will only be worthwhile if it pertains to the a greater understanding of the intentional object. So, for Theology, if greater objectivity is to be attained via a self-reflexive appreciation of the findings and theories advanced in Religious Studies, such increased objectivity will only be valuable insofar as it pertains to the intentional object of Theological inquiry (i.e. God). That this seems like a big ask for Religious Studies is, I think, no small charge against Nagel. Obviously, the more ways we come at the world, the greater our chances of comprehensively understanding it will become. But, for greater comprehensiveness to entail greater objectivity (which I admit that it often does), we require a deeper understanding of what it is about objectivity itself that makes it amenable not only to comprehensiveness, but a whole range of other phenomena.

3. In his 1995 work, The Construction of Social Reality, John Searle proposes the statement, ‘Rembrandt lived in Amsterdam during the year 1632’, as being exemplary of an objective judgement. He claims that such a judgement is objective because its truth or falsity depends entirely on objective facts; i.e. that the person known as ‘Rembrandt’ lived in the geographical location, now called ‘Amsterdam’ by speakers of the English language, during the period of time denoted as ‘1632(CE)’ in the modern, Western calendar. Such facts, we are told, are held to be objective insofar as they are independent of any subjective entities (i.e. ‘attitudes, feelings, or points of view’).

But what Searle calls ‘objective judgements’ would be better referred to as ‘judgements pertaining to matters of objective fact’. This would allow us to more clearly distinguish between the character of the focus to which a judgemental statement pertains, and the nature of the epistemic process or methodology by which a judgement is arrived at.

By way of illustration, we can readily imagine (if not actually recall) an incompetent History teacher that, whenever his memory failed him, would simply make-up judgemental statements, such as ‘Rembrandt lived in Amsterdam during the year 1632’, on the basis of mere whim or fancy. Let us suppose, for instance, that the so-called ‘teacher’ arrived at the particular year, 1632, owing entirely to the aesthetic appeal that this arrangement of numbers had for him. Similarly, the country, Amsterdam, may well have been chosen because, as we can picture him saying, I hope to visit there one of these days.
While the statement in question certainly pertains to a matter of objective fact, such that, ultimately, ‘the facts in the world that [would] make [it] true or false are independent of anybody’s attitudes or feelings about them’, nonetheless, I think it would be remiss to call any statement arrived at via such an inappropriately subjective process, an objective judgement.

In contrast, Searle’s characterisation of subjective judgements certainly comes closer to the mark, when he explains that they ‘cannot be settled “objectively”’. Rightly, any judgement that cannot be settled – that is, arrived at – objectively, must necessarily fall within the category of subjective judgements. However, this is not necessarily the case because ‘the truth or falsity is not a simple matter of fact’. Take, for instance, the statement, ‘Rembrandt had ten siblings, no more than six of which survived’. Obviously, the ultimate truth or falsity of this statement depends on the objective facts of the matter. That is to say, the statement pertains to matters of objective fact. However, we could imagine that, owing to a lack or loss of documentation, records and the like, the issue might have been a matter of some obscurity.  Further, we can imagine that, under such circumstances, the diary of Rembrandt’s nanny could one day be discovered; wherein she retrospectively ponders, from her old age, the very question at issue. Unfortunately, however, she records that she is also at a loss to vividly recall either the exact number of children in her charge or their names (except, of course, for the famous ‘Rembrandt’). Nevertheless, she feels confident that there must have been no more than seven children in total under her charge, “for [(as we could imagine her writing)] any more would surely have exceeded my then limited capacities”. Here we have the case of a subjective judgement being made – for its arrival ‘depends on certain attitudes, feelings, and points of view of the makers and the hearers of the judgement’ – although the matter in question is one of objective fact.

Searle rightly states that a judgement must be subjective if it ‘cannot be settled “objectively”’, but he mistakenly concludes that this must be because ‘the truth or falsity [of the matter in question] is not a simple matter of fact.’ But in the above hypothetical, we have an instance where the truth or falsity ultimately depends upon ‘a simple matter of fact’, and yet our epistemic access to it is obscured such that we may find it necessary (and even acceptable) to rely on the subjective testimony of an individual’s feelings and attitudes. We would certainly agree with Searle that, in this case, the subsequent judgement, ‘Rembrandt had ten siblings, no more than six of which survived’, would then fall under the category of subjective judgements. But only because contingent limitations on our epistemic access means that the matter ‘cannot be settled “objectively”’; not because ‘the truth or falsity [of the matter in question] is not a simple matter of fact.’

To come at this point from another angle, let us attempt an examination of the model subjective judgement provided by Searle: ‘Rembrandt is a better artist than Rubens.’

Searle claims that epistemic subjectivity arises because the truth or falsity ‘depends on certain attitudes, feelings, and points of view of the makers and the hearers of the judgement’ [Italics added]. On the face of it, this characterisation appears more promising in that his reference to ‘markers’ and ‘hearers’ implies that it is the process whereby a judgement is arrived at that makes all the difference. However, let us again pry apart the difference between judgements that pertain to matters of subjectivity, from judgements that are arrived at via a subjective process or methodology.

On the face of it, the statement, ‘Rembrandt is a better artist than Rubens’ appears as though it must be utterly dependent upon the existence of certain subjective entities, such as pleasure and beauty. In an ontological sense, this is certainly the case; subjective entities, such as aesthetic or moral evaluations, would surely not exist were it not for their instantiation in the attitudes, feelings, and points of view of subjects (human or otherwise). Epistemically, however, the matter is more complicated. Take, for instance, the statement, ‘I, John Searle, think that Rembrandt is a better artist than Rubens.’ Admittedly, the truth or falsity of this judgement must ultimately rest with the attitudes, feelings, or point of view of the maker of the judgement (John Searle). That is, the judgement pertains to a matter of, what I shall call, ‘subjective fact’. However, it is nonetheless conceivable that Searle could arrive at an objective judgement regarding this statement. Imagine, for instance, Searle submitting himself to a functional, magnetic resonance imagery (fMRI) scan. Drawing upon ever-increasingly-vast neuroscientific research, he could seek to determine whether or not the parts of the brain associated with pleasure, show greater neural activity in his own brain when exposed to the visual stimulus of paintings by Rembrandt, than by that of Rubens. If such results were indeed forthcoming, Searle could make the (more) objective judgement, ‘I, John Searle, think that Rembrandt is a better artist than Rubens.’ If, on the other hand, such results were not forthcoming, then we can imagine the vastly more curious scenario of Searle undergoing deep and protracted psychoanalysis, only to someday realise he only said that he thought Rembrandt was a better artist than Rubens, because, unconsciously, he desperately wanted to please his father, who was a passionate connoisseur of Rembrandt’s work. Again, here the truth or falsity of the judgement ultimately depends upon its focus (i.e. the attitudes, feelings, or point of view of the maker of the judgement), but its epistemic objectivity certainly does not.

Obviously, the more general statement of Rembrandt’s artistic superiority is a far more complicated matter than can be treated of here, but, I think the point stands nonetheless: Searle’s model statement of a subjective judgement does not, by itself reveal anything about the nature of subjectivity, for, it is not the focus of a judgement that determines its objectivity or subjectivity, but rather it is the nature of the process by which one arrives at the judgement that makes it so.

5. Robert Nozick’s last book, Invariances: The Structure of The Objective World (2001), seems to suggest, what is to me, the rather unintelligible notion that ontological entities can be more or less objective than one another.

Nozick holds what is essentially a correspondence theory of truth. Thus he writes, ‘… a statement is true if it corresponds to the facts.’  And, again, ‘If no facts make p true, then not-p is true.’

His characterisation of objectivity is borrowed heavily from the sciences; specifically, from their notion of frame invariances, which determine objectivity according to ‘the degree qualitative and quantitative descriptions of physical phenomena remain unchanged when the phenomena are observed under a variety of conditions’.  Thus, Nozick claims that, that which is objective will remain ‘invariant under all possible transformations.’  I’ve worded this rather unnaturally because it is here, in identifying the ‘that which…’ that we encounter difficulties.

Nozick points out that there are fundamentally two types of possible transformations. One is a transformation in what he calls mapping, and the other is brought about by an actual change in what is mapped. So, when I look and see that there is a glass in front of me, and then I reach out and pick it up, if the two ‘mappings’ – one visual, and the other material or kinaesthetic – rightly correspond so that the glass I see is the glass that I so gracefully raise before me, then I have grounds for thinking my judgement, ‘there is a glass on the table in front of me’ is more objective than might have otherwise been if I had reached out and found there was no material glass to pick up.

To give another example, where a transformation reveals a lesser degree of objectivity: Nozick points out that the statement, ‘Eighty degrees Celsius is twice as hot as forty degrees’ can be shown to be weakly objective, given that were the relative temperature measurements converted to Fahrenheit, they would be 104° and 176° respectively. The reason why this is so, is, of course, that Celsius and Fahrenheit are both arbitrary scales of temperature. Both are as good as each other for our everyday purposes, and both are objective to the extent that the scales are standardised in order that different thermometers of different compositions can be calibrated to produce corresponding results. But if we wished to make the objective statement, ‘Substance A is twice as thermodynamically active as substance B, we would need to produce a scale that mapped (that is, reflected) the deep nature of temperature (i.e. thermodynamics).

This sense of objectivity, revealed through invariances in mapping, reflects the common sense understanding of objectivity, and I believe that it is the one scientists are primarily using when they invoke frame invariances as ‘objective’. However, Nozick also seems to want to attribute objectivity according to invariances of actual changes in the world. Thus, Nozick would want to claim that atoms are more objective than the objects they constitute, because, while the objects will come and go, the atoms will, more than likely, remain much the same. Now, illustrated like this, perhaps Nozick’s characterisation might not seem all that incomprehensible. But, nonetheless, I suspect that he is conflating epistemology with ontology. Consider the following:

The veridical concept of atoms is perhaps more objective than, say, the concept of glasses. This because glasses are predominately cultural artefacts; they are functional and fashionable; the materials and methods by which they are created change and evolve, and reflect all manner of technological, economic, and sociological aspects of our world. For this reason, then, our concept of what glasses are, will necessarily be imbued by our subjectivity. But, I contend, it is the concept, not the object-glasses themselves that will, therefore, only ever be weakly objective.

This, however, is not what Nozick wishes to say.  For Nozick, the shape of an object such as a wine glass is less objective than that of, say, a sphere. No matter which way you flip, rotate or twist the sphere or the angle from which it is viewed, it will retain the same shape. Whereas the observed shape of a glass changes according to the perspective and angle from which it is viewed. Such relative objectivity, Nozick seems to hold, pertains not to our ability to know the objective shape of an object, but, rather, to the shape of the object itself

Consider, on the other hand, the concept of Atoms. Postmodern theorists have hammered home the seemingly inescapable fact that even our most rigorous scientific concepts are still and will always be cultural artefacts. In this sense, phenomena like scientific paradigms and the nature of induction, may detract from an ideal, absolutely objective conception of atoms.

However, again I want to claim that these considerations pertain only to the possible objectivity of our concepts, not to the objects themselves. Indeed, the fact that our conception of atomic structure relies so heavily on non-individualising entities such as protons, neutrons, electrons, quarks, etc., so that, apart from the highly peculiar feature of spin, most atoms of a particular elemental configuration are indistinguishable from one another, means only that, if our conception is indeed veridical and two atoms are as alike as can be, then our conception of them can more readily be objective than might have otherwise been if their properties were more individuated. That is to say, the properties of an object may allow for greater objectivity in our judgements regarding them, but does nothing to indicate the objective status of the object or its properties themselves.

Again, this not what Nozick wants to say. In reference to the issue of whether objects that limit the objectiveness of our judgements are therefore taken to be themselves ontologically less objective, Nozick asks the following questions, ‘Is the distance between two points less real or less objective than the connectedness of space? Can the distance between two points be less objective than a torus structure?’ He willing acknowledges that ‘a more guarded position [(such as the one I’m rooting for)] would not hold that the topological properties are more objective … but that [they] are deeper, more fundamental, more basic. [Meaning that,] alterations that change other properties leave the[se basic ones] untouched…’  But, as Nozick says himself, “[He] prefer[s] to see the matter less cautiously…’ , instead talking about a thing’s surface and underlying objectiveness.

As I said before, this view is unintelligible to me. Of course, by itself this doesn’t necessarily mean that Nozick is wrong (although I have already provided something of an alternative, workable explanation). Allow me, then, to attempt to pin-point what exactly I think is wrong with Nozick’s account.

If we take both ontological and epistemic objectivity to mean ‘independence from the subjective influences of consciousness (including attitudes, feelings, etc.)’, then, one possible way of construing this would be to hold that the most objective objects are those (un)found on the dark side of the universe, so to speak; that which is beyond our ability to ever know or interact with (such as entities existing outside the event-horizon of our shared light cone). Of course, this is not what is typically meant when we speak of objectivity, but I suspect the contrast will help us more fully understand what we do normally mean.

Objective ontological entities are commonly said to be independent of subjectivity insofar as they and their properties would exist even if no one were conscious of them. But, it seems that according to Nozick’s view, it is an object’s ability to fully reveal itself to consciousness, which determines its ontological objectivity. Consider, however, the two shapes shown in Figure 1: The sphere reveals the same shape no matter which way it is manipulated. But, by stretching our imaginations a little, we could suppose that, no matter how we manipulated the second shape, to us it always presented the one aspect, so that, while we may objectively believe that its shape was invariantly step-like, its true ontological objectiveness would remain obscured from our view.

In this light, we can better appreciate that while objective entities need not exist beyond our ken, the thought that they might is what grounds our normal understanding of them as independent of subjective consciousness. This is to say, contra Nozick: epistemic objectivity is rightly thought to reveal ontologically objective aspects of the world, but it cannot be thought to determine them.

Ross Barham, 2008

Tänk dig ett fattigt och ensamt barn. Det här barnet är så fattigt att det inte har råd att köpa tillräckligt med mat för att överleva, och kommer sannolikt att dö antingen av svält eller av kylan (associationer till "Flickan med svavelstickorna" fungerar) inom de närmaste veckorna. Tänk dig vidare att det här barnet befinner sig på en marknad inne i staden. Där finns det en rad olika stånd och rikligt med mat till försäljning. Alla ståndsinnehavarna har förvärvat sina produkter på ett legitimt sätt (genom rättmätigt ursprungligt förvärv och därefter genom fria byten) och har därmed, enligt den nyliberala synen, en absolut och okränkbar äganderätt över allt de förfogar över. Barnet äger dock ingenting och har ingenting att erbjuda i utbyte mot mat och kläder. Det visar sig vara så att ståndsinnehavarna är ganska slarviga och godtrogna, så de håller inte särskilt noggrann uppsikt över sina varor. Vid lunchtid promenerar en särskilt välmående (d.v.s. rik) ståndsinnehavare helt sonika iväg för att äta lunch på en restaurang i närheten och lämnar sitt stånd helt oövervakat.

Skulle vi klandra barnet om det bestämde sig för att stjäla mat eller kläder från det obevakade ståndet? Jag vågar påstå att de flesta av oss har starka intuitioner om att det vore fullt berättigat av barnet, i den situationen, att faktiskt ta vad det ville. Skulle man då inte kunna inta någon slags tudelad inställning till den (eventuella) stölden, i stil med att det är helt förståeligt och moraliskt försvarbart av barnet att ta maten, men att det samtidigt kränker ståndsinnehavarens absoluta äganderätt över denna? En sådan inställning verkar problematisk; hur ska man avgöra vilket som är av största vikt, d.v.s vad som i slutändan får avgöra vilken handling som faktiskt, med alla fakta tagna i beaktande, bör utföras?

Om vi går med på att stölden är moraliskt acceptabel tycks vi ha passerat en viktig gräns; vi anser att barnets trängande behov överskuggar ståndsinnehavarens äganderätt över sina varor. I mina ögon är det här extrema exemplet bara inkörsporten till en fullt utdragen tillställning till fördelning av resurser baserat på behov, snarare än individuella rättigheter över dessa resurser. Om vi går med på att det faktum att barnets behov av maten är större än ståndsinnehavarens, så tycks vi också vara tvungna att gå med på mindre extrema exempel på fördelning av resurser, baserad på behov snarare än andra slags rättigheter, som Nozicks "historiska fördelningsprincip" eller andra fördelningsprinciper inriktade på förtjänst.

Dependenţa de heroină nu este un rău în sine. Dacă este legalizată, ea nu poate răni pe nimeni altcineva decât pe utilizatorul drogului. Există cei care vor dori să vorbească, să educe şi să facă publicitate împotriva ei, dar a o interzice este în mod clar o violare a drepturilor celor care doresc să o utilizeze.

Dacă vreţi să citiţi întreaga argumentare, cumpăraţi cartea apărută la Editura Nemira în colecţia Societatea Economică.

Selvejerskab
MEJN's kritik af højreliberalismen er rimelig straightforward. Han tager udgangspunkt i selvejerskabstesen, der kort og indledningsvist går ud på, at personer ejer sig selv og deres krop, talenter og evner. MEJN skriver følgende om tesen:

Selvejerskabstesens grundpræmis er umiddelbart appellerende: selvfølgelig ejer jeg min krop, mine talenter, evner osv. Hvem skulle ellers? Ikke desto mindre er det ikke indlysende, at dette ejerskab giver mig moralsk ret til at disponere frit over kroppen, talenterne osv.

Dette er selvfølgelig et godt spørgsmål, der i mine øjne udfordrer selv- ejerskabstesen gevaldigt. Jeg har ikke svaret på spørgsmålet og jeg vil ikke tilslutte mig en fuldblods rettighedslibertarianisme før jeg har fået et plausibelt svar, der formår at bygge en bro over David Humes betydningsfulde og bund- løse is-ought-gap.
Men – og dette har stor betydning for MEJN's essay – bare fordi jeg måske ikke kan siges at have moralsk ret til at disponere frit over min krop, så er det ikke ensbetydende med, at du og dine venner har moralsk ret til at disponere over min krop. Dette følger simpelthen ikke af min tilsyneladende ikke-eksisterende dispositionsret. Tværtimod ville det være mere nærliggende at spørge: Hvis vi ikke har retten til at disponere over vor egen krop, hvorfor har vi så retten til at disponere over andres? Det forekommer mig en anelse paradoksalt at postulere dette. Der er mindst lige så meget magi over MEJN's tentative slutning fra individuelt selvejerskab til kollektivt dispositionsret (lad os se bort fra det faktum, at kollektivet ikke er en entitet, der kan disponere og handle) som over selvejerskabstesens oprindelige slutning til individuelt dispositionsret. I mine øjne er det en non sequitur.

Når alt dette er sagt, så bliver jeg lige nødt til at kommentere MEJN's eksempel, der åbenbart skal appellere til vores moralske intuition og underbygge hans påstand om, at kollektivet har dispositionsretten over min krop (lad os fortsætte med at se bort fra det faktum, at kollektivet ikke er en entitet, der kan disponere og handle). MEJN mener tilsyneladende, at det er intuitivt indlysende, at de seende (givet der fandtes en perfekt trans- plantationsteknologi) har en moralsk forpligtelse til at donere et enkelt øje til de blinde. I mine ikke så velfungerende øjne er dette langt fra intuitivt korrekt. Tværtimod. Men det fortæller måske også mest om hvad vi egentlig kan bruge vores moralske intuitioner til: Alt og intet.

Privat ejendomsret
MEJN mener dog ikke, at ovenstående anklagepunkt er den kritik, der rammer højreliberalismen hårdest. Det helt store problem er derimod, når højreliberalismen slutter fra selvejerskab til, at personer har ret til frugterne af deres egen arbejdsindsats, altså privat ejendomsret. Denne slutning er for MEJN ubegrundet og hænger derfor ikke sammen.

Jeg er ikke overraskende uenig med MEJN. Hvis man antager selvejerskabs- tesens gyldighed, heri også inkluderet påstanden om individuel dispositions- ret, så følger det direkte, at hvis man konfiskerer lønindkomst eller anden ejendom erhvervet ved arbejde, så krænker man vedkommendes ret til selvejerskab.
Hvis man samtidig ønsker at respektere personers frivillige transaktioner og handel, hvilket man selvfølgelig ønsker som frihedselskende liberal, så bliver enhver konfiskation af ejendom tilegnet på baggrund af lønindkomst eller anden ejendom erhvervet ved arbejde, også en krænkelse af selv- ejerskabstesen. For hvis den første fordeling af ejendom ikke kan ændres uden at krænke selvejerskabstesen og alle implicerede personer herefter frivilligt bytter og handler sig til en anden fordeling af ejendom uden at krænke andre personers selvejerskab, så kan denne anden fordeling heller ikke ændres på uden at krænke selvejerskabstesen. På denne måde har man sikret sig en robust privat ejendomsret, der ikke åbner op for beskatning. (Vi har dog endnu ikke en teori, der kan give guidelines vedrørende initial tilegnelse af eksterne goder, men det har vi heller ikke brug for i denne omgang.)

Hvordan kan det så være, at det følger direkte af selvejerskabstesen, at en person har ret til den lønindkomst eller anden ejendom han har erhvervet ved arbejde? Det gør det af den simple årsag, at et system, der beslaglægger udkommet af hvad der f.eks. svarer til 4 timers arbejde, reelt lige så godt kunne tvinge vedkommende til at arbejde i de 4 timer. At beslaglægge udkommet af de 4 timer er ækvivalent med at beslaglægge de 4 timer og diktere hvad han skal lave i den tid (i dette tilfælde ville det være at skabe værdier til systemet).
Mange vil måske protestere imod denne sidestilling og forsøge at påpege, at de to ting slet ikke er sammenlignelige: Den beskattede mand kunne jo bare lade være med at arbejde og ville dermed slippe for at betale skat. Hvis han havde et valg, så var det ikke tvang. De vil af denne grund derfor også straks vende sig imod idéen om, at man skal tvinge alle med meget fritid eller måske helt uden arbejde (fordi de ikke gider at arbejde mere end hvad der er absolut nødvendigt og hellere vil hygge med børn, kone og en billig bog) til at arbejde for at hjælpe de såkaldt ressourcesvage og trængende. Det er jo slaveri.
Her er det relevant at spørge, hvorfor der skal gælde anderledes standarder for de personer, der har brug for flere penge til at tilfredsstille deres udsøgte behov og ekstravagante drømme, og derfor arbejder rigtig meget? Hvorfor er det kun dem som skal tvinges til at hjælpe ældre, unge og syge? Hvorfor tvinger man ikke bare hver evig eneste person til at arbejde 4 timer ekstra, inklusiv de personer, der måske slet ikke arbejder eller kun arbejder lige præcis tilstrækkeligt til at opretholde en absolut minimumeksistens?
Man kan også vende det om: Hvorfor ikke sige til alle, at ønsker de at arbejde, så skal de indledningsvist hver dag arbejde 4 timer for at hjælpe en vilkårlig, nødlidende befolkningsgruppe (og for at betale lønninger til politikerne)? Resultatet er jo det samme som en beslaglæggelse af udkommet af de 4 timers arbejde. Jo, det siger man ikke fordi det er for tæt på slaveri. Det er mere belejligt at stjæle udkommet af visse personers arbejde og så ellers gemme sig bag et røgslør af retorisk bavl, der skal forsøge at overbevise disse personer om, at konfiskation skam er helt anderledes end blot at tvinge dem til slavearbejde.
Det er det bare ikke. Når nogle personer (det være sig en stat, en slaveejer eller en mafiaorganisation*) tvinger dig til at gøre noget, og dermed bestemmer hvor og hvordan dine talenter og evner skal benyttes, så er de de facto delejere af din krop. At have delejere af sin egen krop er indlysende nok en krænkelse af sit selvejerskab. Den private ejendomsret er altså ikke en rettighed, der er fritsvævende og blot postuleret: Den følger rimelig tydeligt fra selvejerskabstesen.

Negative og positive rettigheder
Herefter flytter MEJN pludselig fokus. Fra at vurdere selvejerskabstesens gyldighed og konsistens, bliver selvejerskabstesen nu vurderet ud fra nytte- hensyn. Nærmere specificeret er det selvejerskabstesens påstand om, at negative rettigheder har forrang over positive rettigheder, der bliver vurderet på denne måde. MEJN mener nemlig, at det der virkelig giver rettigheder, er hensynet til alle personers interesser og velfærd, og da negative rettigheder ”som sådan [ikke] er bedre til, eller mere fundamentale, for at respektere personer” kan de ikke have en principiel forrang.

Hvis man ikke accepterer selvejerskabstesen og i stedet accepterer MEJN's begrundelse af rettigheder, så er det sandt, at de negative rettigheder ikke som sådan er principielt anderledes end positive rettigheder. Der er dog alligevel mindst to særdeles væsentlige og tungtvejende grunde til at behandle de positive rettigheder som var de fundamentalt og principielt de negative rettigheder underlegne. Disse grunde bunder – pudsigt nok – alle i et liberalt hensyn til personers interesser og velfærd.

Den første er disse grunde burde være selvindlysende: Negative rettigheder handler om frihed, mens positive rettigheder handler om muligheder. Og som liberal burde MEJN værdsætte frihed højere end hvad positive rettigheder kan give af goder – eller også burde han kalde sig noget andet end liberal.

Frihed er en negation af tvang, eller sagt på en anden måde: frihed er en tilstand af fravær af tvang. Da frihed på denne måde er negativt kan den opfyldes ved, at folk blot afholder sig fra at bruge tvang. Hvis ingen tvinger dig til at gøre noget og dine forhold, kontrakter, holdninger og handlinger er valgt frivilligt, så er du fri. Andre mennesker skal sådan set bare lade dig være. Det er dette de negative rettigheder skal sørge for.

Muligheder er noget helt andet. Muligheder er de konkrete forhold, kontrakter, holdninger og handlinger du har at vælge mellem i en given situation. I en verden med ubegrænsede ressourcer ville muligheder og frihed sandsynligvis være det samme, da den eneste forhindring for at realisere dine inderste ønsker og drømme i en sådan verden ville være andres menneskers tvang. Desværre lever vi en verden med knappe ressourcer. Det er ikke kun materielle ressourcer, det handler om. Tid er f.eks. en ikke-materiel ressource, der virkelig begrænser vores muligheder. At vi altid mangler tid er dog ikke en begrænsning af vores frihed. Det er heller ikke en begrænsning af vores frihed, at vi ikke kan finde en pige at tage ud og danse med eller ikke kan finde en dygtig nok tennis-partner. Det er begrænsninger af vores muligheder. Dette er den betydningsfulde forskel. Andre mennesker kan begrænse dine muligheder ved bare at lade dig være helt alene – så har du f.eks. ingen danse- eller tennispartner – men de kan ikke begrænse din frihed ved at lade dig være.
Det forholder sig derfor sådan, at hvis du skal have et bestemt sæt af muligheder som de positive rettigheder foreskriver, så forpligter det alle os andre til at stille de muligheder til rådighed for dig. Dette er tilfældet med de positive rettigheder som retten til uddannelse, bolig og understøttelse. Disse rettigheder er positive fænomener, der i modsætning til den negative frihed, befordrer, at andre aktivt sørger for, at man får dem opfyldt. Retten til uddannelse betyder i den positive optik således, at andre skal tvinges til at sikre dig muligheden for tage din ønskede uddannelse, f.eks. ved at bygge universiteter og andre læreranstalter for deres egne ressourcer. Dette har intet med frihed at gøre og liberale burde straks tage afstand for denne tvang. At have frihed til at uddanne sig betyder nemlig bare, at ingen ved hjælp af tvang forhindrer dig i at tage den uddannelse, du har lyst, tid og penge til (f.eks. ved at tvangsindkalde dig som værnepligtig eller tage din penge og give til andre).

Man kan selvfølgelig indvende, at frihed ikke er så vigtigt endda (selvom man så næppe bør kalde sig liberal). Måske er MEJN i virkeligheden villig til at ofre friheden for at optimere nogle personers muligheder. Hvis man ser bort fra, at dette – ligesom transplantation af øjne – er en krænkelse af hvad Robert Nozick kaldte the separateness of individuals og kun kan retfærdiggøres ud fra et kollektivistisk verdenssyn, så er det faktisk også en usmart strategi, hvis man oprigtigt interesserer sig for alle personers velfærd, både nutidige og fremtidige personer.
Det forholder sig nemlig sådan, at man ofte optimerer alle personers muligheder på lang sigt ved at lade dem have frihed til at gøre som de vil (så længe de ikke bruger tvang og vold overfor andre). Dette er den anden grund til at prioritere negative rettigheder væsentligt højere end positive rettigheder. Samfundsmæssig velstandsfrembringelse er nemlig baseret på, at vi følger vores egeninteresse i at forbedre vores eget liv. Denne egeninteresse har vi lettest ved at følge, hvis vi er frie, dvs. ikke bliver tvunget til at afgive udkommet af vores arbejde til de projekter som positive rettigheder kræver. Dette er ikke en kontroversiel påstand, men en påstand, der bliver påvist i den årlige rapport Economic Freedom of the World, i en undersøgelse af de seneste 200 års økonomiske historie og de fleste forstandige økonomiske værker. At MEJN ikke ved dette slår virkelig en tyk streg under den forestilling, at filosoffer ikke er empirikere. Tragisk.

Afrunding
MEJN's kritik af højreliberalismen er ikke særlig overbevisende. Det hjælper selvfølgelig ikke, at argumenterne ikke i alle tilfælde er helt gennemtænkte, men den primære grund til, at essayets overbevisningskraft er ubetydelig lille, er, at MEJN postulerer at være liberal uden egentlig at være det. Det er useriøst og tilskynder desværre ikke til en respektfuld omgang af emnet. Der er ingen grund til at forsøge at overtage hinandens termer (det er jo sådan noget politikere gør), så det ville tjene til MEJN's ære, hvis han blot for fremtiden lod sig kalde socialliberal, altså en person, der ikke helt ved om frihed nu engang er så væsentlig for den menneskelige civilisation.

Dette betyder dog ikke, at MEJN ikke kan have visse væsentlige pointer. Man behøver ikke at være liberal for at kunne sige kloge ting. Hans kritik af selve selvejerskabets umiddelbare moralske konsekvenser er derfor heller ikke helt tosset, om end han tilsyneladende ikke selv formår at forstå implikationerne af denne kritik. Men det er han ikke alene om – jeg har heller ikke selv et svar eller slutning, der følger af denne specifikke kritik.

Jeg kan sagtens komme på andre områder i MEJN's essay, der råber på et svar. Det ville være interessant og særdeles relevant at skrive om the separateness of individuals og kollektive entiteter (særlig sammenholdt med MEJN's forestilling om, at kun ”mennesker er fundamentale”). Ligeledes kunne det være relevant at skrive om hvem det er, der skal dømme og vurdere om f.eks. transplantation af øjne skal foretages. Og ikke mindst kunne det være brugbart med en kritik af selve MEJN's velfærdsliberalisme. Jeg har dog valgt at overse disse emner for udelukkende at besvare MEJN's kritikpunkter. Det andet må komme en anden dag.

*Den eneste forskel på en stat og en mafiaorganisation er jo også, at den ene af dem er organiseret.

I know that I exist; the question is, what is this ‘I’ that I know? (Descartes 1641)

The soul, so far as we can conceive it, is nothing but a system or train of different perceptions. (Hume 1739)

What was I before I came to self-consciousness? . . . I did not exist at all, for I was not an I. The I exists only insofar as it is conscious of itself. . . . The self posits itself, and by virtue of this mere self-assertion it exists. (Fichte 1794–5)

The ‘Self’ . . . , when carefully examined, is found to consist mainly of . . . peculiar motions in the head or between the head and throat. (James 1890)

The ego continuously constitutes itself as existing. (Husserl 1929)

Any fixed categorization of the Self is a big goof. (Ginsberg 1963)

The self which is reflexively referred to is synthesized in that very act of reflexive self-reference. (Nozick 1981)

The self . . . is a mythical entity. . . . It is a philosophical muddle to allow the space which differentiates ‘my self’ from ‘myself’ to generate the illusion of a mysterious entity distinct from . . . the human being. (Kenny 1988]

A self . . . is . . . an abstraction . . . , [a] Center of Narrative Gravity. (Dennett 1991)

My body is an object all right, but my self jolly well is not! (Farrell 1996)

Citações emprestadas do artigo 'The Self' de Galen Strawson.

Det er dog ikke sociologi-timerne, der gør mest ondt. Her er den ideologiske tilbøjelighed trods alt så gennemskuelig, at den nærmer sig det komiske. Nej, det er straks værre i de tilfælde, hvor der kræves et indgående kendskab til de liberale teorier før man kan erfare den smertende spot. F.eks. læste vi i faget Politologisk Grundkursus en bog om forskellige demokratimodeller med navnet Models of Democracy. Bogen er skrevet af David Held og er et sandt tour de force i fordækt egalitær lyrik. Efter en nogenlunde ædruelig gennemgang af hvad Held kalder ’legal democracy’ og ’the new right’ (hvad andre kalder minarkistisk libertarianisme), kan man alligevel læse følgende affærdigende svada:

The nature of the relationship between principle and practice in the New Right’s programme can be illuminated further by considering its appeal to liberty. This appeal, as articulated by figures like Hayek og Nozick, is unquestionably potent, but it is based on a highly limited and contentious conception of freedom. By defining all ‘distributional’ questions as ipso facto against the rule of law, questions concerning economic, social and racial inequalities are treated as illegitimate matters for political analysis and examination, despite the fact that some of these inequalities are, as we have seen, central to a thorough account of the nature of liberty in a modern society.
Further, while the distrinction between ‘law’ and ‘legislation’ is important in many respects – for all the reasons given by thinkers from Locke to J.S. Mill – in Hayek’s hands it is highly questionable. For it serves to remove certain critical issues from politics, to treat them as if they were not a proper subject of political action. This attempt to eradicate a range of questions from democratic consideration would, if succesful, drastically restrict the sphere of democratic debate and control.
Moreover, in a world where there is evidence of major and often increasing inequalities between classes, cultures, sexes and regions, it is hard to see how liberty – liberty to develop one’s own tastes, views, talents and ends – could, in fact, be realized if we do not consider a far broader range of conditions than Hayek’s analysis allows. It is here that the new-Marxists and, more recently, feminists have mounted their most powerful criticisms of liberal doctrines: to enjoy liberty means not only to enjoy equality before the law, important though this unquestionably is, but also to have the capacities (the material and cultural resources) to be able to pursue different courses of action.

Nu vil jeg ikke direkte påstå, at David Held er blød i bolden, men det er ikke desto mindre et faktum, at han har alvorlige problemer med at kapere selv de mest elementære bestanddele af libertarianismen. Robert Nozick reagerede i høj grad på de forestillinger, som Held fremfører i ovenstående uddrag. Store dele af Anarchy, State and Utopia handler derfor udelukkende om det forkerte og uretfærdige i Helds drømme. F.eks. skriver Nozick følgende:

The major objection to speaking of everyone’s having a right to various things such as equality of opportunity, life, and so on, and enforcing this right, is that these “rights” require a substructure of things and materials and actions: and other people may have rights and entitlements over these. No one has a right to something whose realization requires certain uses of things and activities that other people have rights and entitlements over.

Nozick vidste selvfølgelig godt hvilke konsekvenser det ville have for den politiske debat at gøre argumenter for fordelingssystemer ipso facto illegitime, men som ovenstående citat fint demonstrerer, så bekymrede det ham ikke det fjerneste. Dette skyldes, at Nozick fandt individets ukrænkelighed vigtigere end størrelsen af arsenalet af redskaber som den samfundsmæssige ingeniør har til rådighed. Nozick pointerede nemlig forstandigt og korrekt, at i det sekund man sætter omfordelende våde drømme over det enkelte individs ukrænkelighed, så vil det uanfægteligt resultere i vedvarende tvang. Sådanne drømme kan nemlig kun opretholdes ved omfattende og kontinuerlige indgreb i den fri udveksling af ejendom.
Jeg har skrevet dette mange gange her på bloggen, men lad os tage det endnu engang: Forestil dig en retfærdig fordeling af ressourcer, f.eks. en fordeling, der ’maksimerer’ en given befolknings materielle og kulturelle ressourcer. Denne fordeling kalder Nozick for D1. Herefter skal man forestille sig, at en million basketball-fans frivilligt vil betale 25 cents for at se Wilt Chamberlain spille. Dette vil medføre en ny fordeling, D2, i hvilken Chamberlain har 250.000$ mere end de næstrigeste i samfundet, som er de personer, der ikke har set Chamberlain spille. Nozick spørger så: ”If D1 was a just distribution, and people voluntarily moved from it to D2, transferring parts of their shares they were given under D1 (what was it for if not doing something with?), isn’t D2 also just?”
Hvordan vil Held besvare dette spørgsmål? Nu har samfundet jo udviklet sig til et samfund præget af en utilsigtet ulighed i materielle ressourcer, der følgelig betyder, at ikke alle har lige meget ’frihed’ til at efterstræbe deres drømme og ønsker. Skal der så omfordeles igen? De frivillige transaktioner stopper jo ikke bare efter Chamberlain har driblet lidt rundt med sin bold. Efter en rum tid vil der opstå en effektiviserede arbejdsdeling, hvor man køber sig til andres specialiserede ydelser og varer. I denne arbejdsdeling vil der sandsynligvis også være en grad af konkurrence, hvor dem der er dygtigst til at tilfredsstille andres ønsker, tjener mange penge og stiger i social status, mens dem der af forskellige årsager ikke kan levere en fyldestgørende og acceptabel ydelse eller vare, vil blive udkonkurreret og måske tabe anseelse. Inden længe har vi et samfund med masser af utilsigtet materiel, social og kulturel ulighed, men hvor alle transaktioner og udvekslinger har været helt og aldeles frivillige. Hvis Held virkelig vil være konsekvent, så må han nødvendigvis argumentere for at omfordele endnu engang tilbage til D1. Så på trods af, at Helds fantasi er blevet væltet gennem individuelle personers frivillige handlinger, skal man altså tvinge disse personer til at afgive deres ejendom, så samfundet igen kan blive som Held ønsker det. Dette vil Nozick ikke gå med til. Jeg er selvfølgelig på Nozicks side. Et fordelingssystem, der bliver nedbrudt af individuelle personers frivillige handlinger er simpelthen ikke værd at bevare ved hjælp af tvang og vold.

Der er altså intet revolutionerende i Helds og neomarxisternes indvending. Nozick behandler den faktisk tilfredsstillende i Anarchy, State and Utopia. Men måske har Held ikke læst den bog?

Dette er første del af en to-delt serie om Held og hans forvildelser. Næste del handler om det bagved- liggende menneskesyn og frihedsopfattelse i ovenstående citat fra Held.

"The Tale of the Slave"
from Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia, pp. 290-292.

Consider the following sequence of cases, which we shall call the Tale of the Slave, and imagine it is about you.

1. There is a slave completely at the mercy of his brutal master's whims. He often is cruelly beaten, called out in the middle of the night, and so on.
2. The master is kindlier and beats the slave only for stated infractions of his rules (not fulfilling the work quota, and so on). He gives the slave some free time.
3. The master has a group of slaves, and he decides how things are to be allocated among them on nice grounds, taking into account their needs, merit, and so on.
4. The master allows his slaves four days on their own and requires them to work only three days a week on his land. The rest of the time is their own.
5. The master allows his slaves to go off and work in the city (or anywhere they wish) for wages. He requires only that they send back to him three-sevenths of their wages. He also retains the power to recall them to the plantation if some emergency threatens his land; and to raise or lower the three-sevenths amount required to be turned over to him. He further retains the right to restrict the slaves from participating in certain dangerous activities that threaten his financial return, for example, mountain climbing, cigarette smoking.
6. The master allows all of his 10,000 slaves, except you, to vote, and the joint decision is made by all of them. There is open discussion, and so forth, among them, and they have the power to determine to what uses to put whatever percentage of your (and their) earnings they decide to take; what activities legitimately may be forbidden to you, and so on.Let us pause in this sequence of cases to take stock. If the master contracts this transfer of power so that he cannot withdraw it, you have a change of master. You now have 10,000 masters instead of just one; rather you have one 10,000-headed master. Perhaps the 10,000 even will be kindlier than the benevolent master in case 2. Still, they are your master. However, still more can be done. A kindly single master (as in case 2) might allow his slave(s) to speak up and try to persuade him to make a certain decision. The 10,000-headed monster can do this also.
7. Though still not having the vote, you are at liberty (and are given the right) to enter into the discussions of the 10,000, to try to persuade them to adopt various policies and to treat you and themselves in a certain way. They then go off to vote to decide upon policies covering the vast range of their powers.
8. In appreciation of your useful contributions to discussion, the 10,000 allow you to vote if they are deadlocked; they commit themselves to this procedure. After the discussion you mark your vote on a slip of paper, and they go off and vote. In the eventuality that they divide evenly on some issue, 5,000 for and 5,000 against, they look at your ballot and count it in. This has never yet happened; they have never yet had occasion to open your ballot. (A single master also might commit himself to letting his slave decide any issue concerning him about which he, the master, was absolutely indifferent.)
9. They throw your vote in with theirs. If they are exactly tied your vote carries the issue. Otherwise it makes no difference to the electoral outcome.

The question is: which transition from case 1 to case 9 made it no longer the tale of a slave?

La analogía con un mundo ficticio y un sufrimiento ficticio es evidente, y puede acercarnos al Bhagavad Gita, pero nosotros sí existimos realmente...

aq95

aq93

También imaginé una variante: los hombres crean a los dioses literalmente, mediante su fe. Y esos dioses a su vez crean a los hombres.