Dialogue on the Meaning of “Oppression”

Tallahassee Civil Rights protests

Tallahassee Civil Rights protests (Photo credit: Village Square)

It always feels weird to be a white, cis-gendered, middle class male talking about the meaning of social oppression. I tend to end up on the good side of that social phenomenon, so anything that I say about it risks sounding self-righteous or distracting from the concerns most central to social justice: the needs of the least well-off and the perspectives of the most socially and politically marginalized. Understanding that my expression can draw attention away from the nuanced engagement of those needs and perspectives, I have held off on publishing this transcript for some time, until I could formulate a good understanding of how it would fit into the broader context of social change. I ultimately hope that my brief reflections will interest social justice advocates reflecting on the a conceptual framework of social oppression, as well as to those more distant from the movement who might lack some or part of the theoretical background needed to understand how micro-aggressions (and overt discriminatory actions and remarks) depend and build upon a culture of perceived superiority. I certainly do not and can not articulate complete or faultless answers to these questions, but as the role of the philosopher (and, by extension, of this philosophy blog), is to contribute something to our understanding, I take it to be within the bounds of decency to share my reflections, however imperfect they may be. If you think that I am wrong, right, or incomplete, I would love to hear in the comments what you think about the theory of oppression.

Aside from the above, I feel that only two further comments are required. First, this conversation is taken almost completely unedited from a texting exchange with a friend of mine, so the style, though philosophical, is also somewhat abbreviated. If any ideas seem as though they need explanation, leave a comment about it!

Second, there is one part in the conversation where my interlocutor responds with disbelief to an example (as will you, in all likelihood). I ask that, after expressing any appropriate shock, you stop to consider it in light of its theoretical implication, namely, that oppression has its roots not in inherent personal characteristics, but in the historical differentiation and power structures built around those characteristics, and the following comment, in which I draw out that distinction and acknowledge that those historical relationships can become engrained in the meaning of certain gestures irrespective of the express intent of the speaker.

Enjoy!

(In the context of a discussion on social justice…)

J: Woah I just found a cool quote… :
“Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Me: Doesn’t count: it was written by a white guy. 😛

J: Dammit, you’re technically right…

Me: …[W]e can nuance it and say that “persecuted” is different than “oppressed”, most plausibly by being very deliberate and concentrated.

J: So there are some sentiments people can express. And they are oppressed, even persecuted, when they’re contradicted.

Me: But both oppression and persecution carry differ from contradiction because to contradict requires that one engage the speaker’s argument or opinion. It seems that a key piece of both persecution and oppression is that speaker’s positions are disregarded because of some identifying characteristic of the speaker, without even considering that position on its own merits. To contradict can only be to oppress if one is contradicting because of the identity of the speaker. (Of course, ignoring, demeaning, or mitigating a point can also be oppressive if done based on the speaker’s identity).

J: What if I say
“Trans*men are men”
Or “women deserve equal respect”
Or “rape jokes aren’t funny”.
Could contradiction be oppressive to some groups regardless of my identity?

Me: That depends on whether a belief can be oppressive or whether that belief requires particular manifestations to be oppressive. Since oppression is conceived as a relationship between elements of society, I am tempted to accept the latter, that oppression is the conscious or unconscious manifestation of beliefs that dismiss opinions based on the identity of the speaker and not on their substance. Hence, holding an opinion contradictory to any of your propositions is not in itself oppressive, though if it causes me to deny the opinions of other people on face, without behaving towards them with respect for their rational agency, which demands substantive engagement, then I have oppressed them by denying implicitly that they possess equal dignity as humans. It may of course be immoral without any manifestation, but it seems to only become oppressive when it confronts you with my contempt for your dignity. Hence black people calling each other “N*****” is not oppressive because, the label applying to both speakers, it cannot elevate one above the other. Nor would the label be oppressive if used in a private conversation between two white men, though it would become so if it came to breed in them contempt for black people, even were that contempt subtle and subconscious.

J: I’m inclined to agree with your analysis, up until you say two white men can use the n-word. That word is steeped in such oppressive history, that someone without the cultural context to reclaim it can’t use it without implicitly perpetuating the oppressive culture that coined the term.

Me: It’s the implicit manifestation of derision, not the mere existence of the word itself [that makes it oppressive]. Consider, for instance, if two non-native English speakers in an isolated, non-Western society learned the language through an old book and thought that “N******” was just the English word for “black person.” You could hardly say that they were expressing or even implicitly perpetuating racism by using the word between them, since they lack the cultural context that imbues the word with degrading connotations.

J: Okay, yeah your second example is better. I assumed when you said “two white men” that you meant two men that understood the context of the word.

Me: I did [mean that]. I think the manifestation condition still holds, but there are background conditions that make manifestation nigh inevitable. [No doubt there exists a cultural background that makes the use of “N*****” between white men inherently degrading and hence oppressive, but nonetheless it is that background, not the mere arrangement of letters or sounds, or the denoted meaning of the term, that breeds contempt for the described class.]

Technology, Privacy, and Small Government Conservatism

Tea Party Protest, Washington D.C. September 1...

Tea Party Protest, Washington D.C. September 12, 2009 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What follows is some brief commentary on satire surrounding the Snowden leaks, e.g., this fairly characteristic bit by The Onion, pointing out that American’s generally don’t mind similar data mining conducted by private corporations. And while that studied indifference is fairly disturbing, I think the satire obscures important differences between data mining by companies and data mining by the state, when both operate within a state-centric political-legal framework. In particular, the legitimacy with which Americans view the state monopoly on coercive force justifies a greater aversion to government overreach than for corporate overreach. I believe that this respect and its effects are, counterintuitively, even more evident in conservative, small-government ideology than in the American left, traditionally the political wing more hostile to the defense and intelligence establishments. Indeed, this counterintuitive claim may help to resolve a central tension in conservative ideology – the desire for a decentralized domestic regime but a powerful, hegemonic state abroad.

The crucial distinction between private industry and the U.S. government is that the government-as-law-enforcer is the last protector of the citizenry against abuses. When a private corporation surveys private data, it is limited in modern society by the legal intervention of the state. Where the population generally appeals to, and therefore recognizes, the legitimacy of the state, that same population will believe that the government serves as a recourse against corporate abuse. When the government itself is seen to pursue potentially, even if not actually, abusive activities, no sense of recourse can exist, for no recognized authority beyond the state carries either the power or the legitimacy to forestall or repair abuses that the state commits. The tendency is thus to restrict the state more than one would restrict private enterprise, for the potentiality of private harm may always be balanced against government reparation in evaluating its desirability. Hence, we may find Target knowing about your pregnancy before your family does (partly) okay because we believe we can regulate away anything worse than diaper coupons. But the ability of a politicized agency in control of the military, federal police, international policy, the national guard, and hundreds of billions of dollars in ubiquitous public funding to gather such information seems decidedly less constrained. The potentiality of public harm may be seen only in the light of utter private ruin to those whose interests to not align with those of the empowered government regime.

Radical American conservatism is a response precisely to the apparent powerlessness of the the individual as confronted with the sovereign state. Stripped of faith in any authority providing earthly protection against state abuse, those without strong faith in the internal checks of the state recognize no recourse against intrusions except for brute force exercised in the name of self-defense. This self-reliance is a recognition of the world not as an orderly place subdued by society, but as a scene of violence. The capacity of any individual to abuse another with impunity, or of the government to do the same, recapitulates the state of nature and reconstitutes its corresponding mindset. The state must be constrained by the only power that remains to stop it – oneself.

Interestingly, the resultant ideology of “small” government depends precisely upon the existence of a powerful, centralized state. On the one hand, the demand that the state decentralize while private individuals may consolidate and incorporate power implicitly recognizes the legitimate authority of the state to intervene in private affairs. For he who is skeptical of unchecked abuse generally must believe that this private consolidation exists under external constraints if he is to support it generally. Only an anarchist believes that these external checks arise spontaneously, and modern American conservatism is not anarchistic. Hence, American conservatives recognize and respect a sovereign power, e.g., the state, as an authoritative limitation on action.

On the other hand, the characteristic support of conservatives for a militarily powerful and globally present United States demands precisely the public exercise of power within an international arena that contains no generally recognized universal authority. Where no external protection exists, protection must be internal. It must be drawn from the one source that can potentially represent the conservative’s interests within a violent international sphere – and that source is the modern state. Both the insistence on domestic decentralization and the desire for international hegemony thus result from the same set of basic beliefs: that the United States is generally good at protecting its citizens; and that it has the power, at any time, to humiliate, subjugate, and destroy them.

The move against surveillance must take the form of a public outcry precisely because of the weakness of the individual. In the face of state authority, it is only with broad support from the mob that one seeking to limit the reach of the state can succeed. Those who already possess power do not need public opinion. They can protect themselves silently (and yes, many of these may be corporations), without the uncertainty of openly entering political discourse.

6 Hurdles to Activism

A picture of Swarthmore College's Parrish Hall...

Student activists call it making themselves heard. Opponents call it a tantric silencing of moderate views. But what President Rebecca Chopp calls “the spring of our discontent” is primarily a series of ad hoc attempts at activism by various small groups of students, each seeking institutional change with the best intention: making students feel safe, welcome, and respected at Swarthmore College.

In the past few weeks, Swarthmore has seen a student council referendum to ban Greek life, complete with sidewalk chalkings anonymously accusing the brothers of harboring rapists; a corresponding federal complaint alleging that the administration has mishandled cases of sexual misconduct in violation of federal law; a factually misinformed protest leading to the withdrawal of alumnus and former World Bank president Robert Zoellick from accepting an honorary degree at commencement; and a takeover of a rare, open board of managers meeting meant to discuss fossil fuel divestment by students claiming to feel marginalized and silenced by an administration unwilling to help them feel safe at their school (video of the takeover here).

Surprisingly few of these protests were coordinated with one another. While many students participated in some way in all or most of these events, my understanding is that they were the brainchildren of different people making independent decisions to act. As a result, attributing a single motivation or goal is impossible, and different supporters will have radically different takes on the purposes, justifications, and intended consequences of any particular act. Certainly, attributing it to an institutionalized liberal conspiracy smells more of demagoguery than of hard-nosed reporting. Indeed, President Chopp and the administration probably guessed (rightly) that the activism would fizzle out as classes ended and finals began, which it duly did, only a few days after its climax at the board meeting.

English: Robert B. Zoellick, President of the ...

Robert B. Zoellick ’75, former President of the World Bank Group (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Some students will say that none of these actions are about issues beyond themselves – not societal change, not institutional change, not social change – but rather about marginalized voices finally being heard. But any attempt to depoliticize the protests cuts against reality. Each event has been accompanied by express political demands, be they to withdraw an honorary degree offer, to change sexual assault policy, or to create an ethnic studies distribution requirement. So even if some students relate to events through an entirely personal lens, a vocal subset, at least, pursues loftier goals. But to those students who seek no change, I would remind you that nobody has a right simply to be heard. When you enter a public forum, especially to disrupt it, you are taking on the burden of persuasion because you are asserting that what you have to say is something so important that you can interject yourself into public discourse to make me hear it. But the extent to which I am obligated to listen is just the extent to which you are providing recognizable reasons for me to change my attitudes or behaviors, that is, making salient points. Speech as such is not a right because your thoughts and feelings are not necessarily important to me. Mutual respect as rational individuals is. Protests are inherently political because they must establish public reasons for a relevant change in policy or in individual action or attitudes, and they must be justified and evaluated in that light.

History also has a role. The board meeting takeover and the teach-ins organized by students were defended largely on the grounds that disruptive behavior is the only way to get meaningful change, and that similar tactics successfully won support for creating the Black Cultural Center and the Intercultural Center on campus.

I believe that some campus protests this spring were careful and justified responses to alleged wrongdoing. Others were counterproductive and childish. Considering the political and historical underpinnings of discourse, I think that there are six questions we need to ask in evaluating any particular act.

1. Have the means used been successful at creating social or institutional change in the past?

2. Were the changes brought about by those means, on balance, desirable?

3. Will the intended change be a net good for the community or communities affected?

4. If the form of protest has been successful before, do the same conditions prevail to make these means effective in the present, as they were in the past? If not, is the protest otherwise likely to bring about its intended change?

5. Will the goodness of the intended change outweigh the unintended consequences of the of protest?

6. Are the means of protest necessary to achieve the intended change? Do other possible means have fewer negative consequences?

Obviously, questions 1 and 2 apply only to cases where past success is used to justify present action, for example, in the case of sit-ins or meeting takeovers. The latter four, however, should disqualify any act from being a valid form of protest if any of them are answered in the negative. In descending order of importance and ascending order of difficulty for organizers to achieve: we obviously should not condone a protest, the goals of which are actually bad for those involved. But even if they are good, we should not condone a protest if it certainly won’t achieve any of them. If it does achieve them, it deserves contempt if it is so disruptive that its unintended consequences, e.g., the board of managers never again hosting an open, transparent meeting, are worse than the problem it successfully alleviates. But given that protest will by nature create some disruptive harm, if there are better ways to bring about intended change, then we should pursue those instead.

I believe that this heuristic has both prescriptive power for people planning activism and descriptive power for people evaluating it after it happens.

Social Justice and Systems of Oppression

Is Swat Oppressive and Exclusionary?

Swarthmore College

Swarthmore College (Photo credit: musical photo man)

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged anything, mostly because I’ve focused my writing energy at debate and classwork. Things are starting to settle down a bit, and I have more time to let my mind wander to subjects that might be worth publishing. Here’s an opinion piece on the way Swarthmore College’s social justice culture can go a bit wrong, in my book. While it is responsive to particular events on campus – namely, the outcry over the College’s offer of an honorary degree to former World Bank president Robert Zoellick, Swarthmore c/o ’75 – it speaks more broadly to the attitudes and strategies that we adopt when we try to create meaningful and lasting social change. Social activism as praxis is an important part of philosophy, so I think that a discussion of applied social theory is both appropriate and timely for this blog.

More coming soon, I hope.

-Griffin

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Swarthmore’s frequent social justice campaigns – pro-divestment, pro-childcare, anti-fraternity, anti-Zoellick, and so on – make us a hotspot for controversy and, yes, and decidedly leftist socio-political culture. I appreciate that culture. I approach it as someone sympathetic to the cause. Yet I am strangely dissatisfied with the way that Swarthmore’s social justice movements manifest within our campus discourse.

I want to be clear: I am not criticizing those who, frustrated and in private conversation, lash out at oppressive social groups or structures, nor am I criticizing those who engage in a spirited debate about contentious issues. I do want to speak to those who go to online comments sections and anonymously post hateful insults; to the people who find an inoffensive Internet post merely questioning the most extreme version of an argument, and repost it on Facebook with a comment attacking the questioner’s intelligence or humanity; and particularly to the people who would defend such attacks on the ground that they come from a position that is underprivileged and oppose a status quo position that wields institutional power.

Our opposition to institutional oppression does not entitle us to be mean-spirited towards those who disagree. Remember that many people expressing doubts are not consciously oppressing anyone. They – we – often cannot fully appreciate the harmfulness of oppressive structures until we are confronted with their effects. Dissenters are not guilty of some gross offense merely because the conditions of their birth have hitherto blinded them to their positions of privilege. Their moral culpability in oppressive structures is limited to their response upon discovering them. Social justice advocates owe it to their targets to treat them with the same empathy we demand for the oppressed. On a practical level, opponents’ initial recalcitrance against criticisms can often be overcome by appeals to empathy, but it will only be entrenched and embittered by personal derision and belittlement.

But let us suppose that social activists are entitled to publicly insult their opponents, so long as they do so in opposition to institutional power. Then we still have a major problem: at Swarthmore, we liberals are the ones with localized cultural and institutional power behind us. So if our concern is the suppression of minority views and the oppression of their ability to speak and act freely, then we need to do some serious self-reflection and question whether Swarthmore is a place where conservatives (or even people who would be considered mere moderates in broader society) can feel welcome. If not, then we’re failing at our mission of social justice because we’ve merely replicated oppressive power dynamics along non-conventional lines.

Presumably a social justice advocate dislikes oppressive structures as such. While the size, scope, or duration of those structures may make them more or less pernicious – e.g., misogyny is more common and more broadly entrenched than Swarthmore’s anti-conservatism – that is insufficient justification for supporting a newer, smaller, or narrower oppressive structure. Consider: a dictatorship that denies some people their political rights is not good merely because it prevents the rise of some potential dictatorship that would deny everyone their political rights. Even though it is the lesser of two evils, we would still say that we should support, as far as possible, a government that grants everyone basic rights protections. Likewise, even if Swarthmore’s anti-conservatism helps to crowd out a more pernicious set of oppressive norms, we should still insist that our rival system be as good as we can possibly make it. Insofar as the culture we inculcate is a product of our individual decisions, each of us is in a position not just to demand, but also to help create a more open and welcoming environment.

We don’t have to adopt conservative views to have a civil discourse with conservative students, and we don’t have to give up the cause of social justice to stop launching ad hominem attacks against those who disagree with us. Engagement is important – whether we will it or not, conventional oppressors are not going away. It’s better to convert than to alienate them, not only because that wins more allies, but also because radical alienation from one another is exactly what we are trying to avoid. While we should be carefully attuned to the vestiges of long-standing oppressive regimes, we ought not lose sight of the importance of being decent, civil human beings – towards everyone. I think that’s an attitude that even the most ardent social justice advocate could support.

Equivocating “Speech”: Political Advertising, Mass Media, and Human Excellence

Free speech doesn't mean careless talk^ - NARA...

A WWII-era poster warning citizens not to discuss ship, troop, or supply movements. Its text is strangely apropos in distinguishing between real political speech and careless chatter. (Photo credit: NARA – 535383)

What follows is an abridged compilation of my recent series, “Money in Politics.” The essay is forthcoming in a Swarthmore College student publication entitled Left of Liberal.

Equivocating “Speech”: Political Advertising, Mass Media, and Human Excellence

Since the Supreme Court’s 2010 ruling in Citizens United v. FEC, the United States government has treated anonymous monetary contributions to political organizations as constitutionally protected free speech. Much has been made of the practical implications of Citizens United, especially regarding its alleged support of plutocracy. While I am generally sympathetic to such criticisms, I aim to evaluate a different premise of the Citizens United ruling: that independent expenditures are a form of constitutionally protected speech; simplistically, that money equals speech.

In fairness, the Court does not adhere to this premise directly. It cites the majority opinion from another case, Buckley v. Valeo:  “A restriction on the amount of money a person or group can spend on political communication during a campaign necessarily reduces the quantity of expression by restricting the number of issues discussed, the depth of their exploration, and the size of the audience reached…. The electorate’s increasing dependence on television, radio, and other mass media for news and information has made these expensive modes of communication indispensable instruments of effective political speech.” In other words, money is not speech per se, but because we live in a society that has commoditized major segments of public fora, we should protect persons’ ability to purchase space in such fora.

Its naturalism fallacy notwithstanding, the Court ignores substantial reasons to distinguish between monetary expenditures (a market transaction) and political speech (a political interaction). The very interests that the Court cites in establishing the historically contingent relation of money to speech – i.e., it’s ability to create broad, deep, and inclusive discussion of issues of public importance – are precisely those interests that no market transaction can achieve. Forcing speakers to buy entrance into public forums fundamentally subverts the political process.

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Monetary outlays do not have any speech content unless accompanied by some other communication. A Super PAC can spend a small fortune espousing the benefits of a healthy breakfast or just air hours of white space, if it so desires. Buying up ad space (the monetary expenditure part) is distinct from imbedding content within those advertisements (the political speech part). Even boycotts and other forms of “economic speech” only gain their political content from the message accompanying the decision to purchase or not to purchase a certain product. Otherwise, that decision is relegated to the entirely private, economic realm of personal preference, where it lacks the essential publicity of political action.

The Court thus relies solely on the belief that large monetary outlays are a necessary condition for exercising constitutionally protected free speech rights. They rely on the bizarre logic that, because our primary media happen to be controlled by corporations who use dollars as a unit of access, we as political actors must follow suit. This simply is not the case. The Greek agora and the Roman forum were political venues precisely because any citizen within them had equal power to engage in persuasive discussion with any other citizen present. All citizens had free access to the venue.

Radio, by contrast, has a finite number of usable frequencies, and television has a finite number of channels with substantial viewership. These media forms are far scarcer – and therefore far more expensive for the author – than, say print media was at the time of the American Revolution. Moreover, the relatively small market in these media means that increased demand during presidential elections rapidly increases the price of ad space. The structure of telecommunications limits the number of political ads that can be aired, so that large ad buys partially offset their added content by crowding out other, less wealthy advertisers.

Both radio and television also allow only for one-way communication, from the advertiser to the content subscriber. Broadcast advertisements therefore treat the viewer or listener as a mere receptacle for persuasion, and not herself as a persuasive, human voice. In conversation, the immediate proximity of the speaker to her listener is essential to speech – one must both attempt to persuade and be open to persuasion to engage in political discourse. This mutual discourse helps prevent the propagation of false or sensationalist rhetoric by exposing speakers to constant evaluation and rebuttal. The Court does away with the multilateralism of politics when it concerns itself with “the size of the audience reached” and not with the size of mutually engaged citizenry. The Court removes a further check on absurdity when it legalizes anonymous contributions, whereby the “speaker” need never expose him-, her-, or itself to any public scrutiny whatever.

Finally, it does not take a pessimistic view of society to believe that hyperbole and misinformation can skew electoral outcomes. Regardless of how much a candidate’s policies benefit me – e.g., by guaranteeing affordable healthcare – I am unlikely to support him if I cannot trust his character – for example, because I believe that he is a radical Islamic militant bent on global domination. We check shallowness from the permanent opposition by holding out the promise that it may one day inherit the reins of government, with all the responsibility that entails. When it comes time to rule, the opposition must have a workable plan, or else it will fail as a government and be booted out of office in the next election.

When apolitical actors like corporations and unions (neither of which can hold government office) become politicized, this check ceases to function, as attacks on the ruling coalition need no longer be grounded in reliable alternatives to achieve the actors’ legislative goals. Baseless attacks, do, however, serve to ingratiate the candidate or party that they aid, allowing these sometimes-libelous organizations additional access to candidates, and perhaps winning candidates’ support for narrow policy goals, like lower corporate taxes or protectionist labor laws.

The First Amendment protects against a tyrannical government by guaranteeing the relatively equal ability of citizens to create and disseminate content critical of government practices and elected officials. It operates on the theory, expressed by Madison in The Federalist No. 10, that many, relatively equal factions will balance one another to prevent oligarchy. Equalizing economic conditions within politics promotes a meritocracy of ideas better than a system that equates economic success with political profundity. This meritocratic system ensures the ultimate stability of democratic states. At a moral level, it recognizes citizens’ individual worth. At a practical level, it provides an institutional outlet for citizen’s frustrations, thus alleviating the risk of violent revolution.

While a political sphere entirely separated from the economic sphere may, in fact, retain some inequality – e.g., in speakers’ background knowledge or rhetorical skills – these skills are at least relatively amenable to self-improvement and relevant to political processes. In contrast stands wealth accumulated by the selling of products or services, which entails no such persuasive prowess, but, indeed, quite the opposite: profits, the surplus wealth of business, arise from the brute force of desire compelling economic activity. In no event should the public welfare be conflated with this private satisfaction of desire, as public legislation deals necessarily with emergent societal needs that lack microeconomic analogues. Neither should matters of public welfare necessarily be subject to the wills of the economically successful, as the selflessness of authentic public service transcends the personal enrichment inherent in capitalistic enterprise.

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The essence of human action is the spontaneous creation of something entirely new – a tool, a product, or an idea. Food, drink, and the ingredients therein are consumed almost immediately following their creation. They lack any permanence whatsoever except as an eternally recurring component of the natural cycles of life. This type of consumption comprises a biological imperative, which a human can forestall only by causing his or her own death. The unending cycle of life enslaves all biological creatures, and in our need to satisfy it we are no different from any other living thing. The market economy and the division of labor mean that few of us actually produce the goods we consume for sustenance, yet subsistence labor remains: we still must work for money to trade for the basic needs of life, and labor for which the laborer gains only the means to provide for his or her own continued existence remains in principle the same component of the cycle of life, only that a sophisticated system of trade has been introduced to regulate this cycle.

If subsistence labor was all that humans could accomplish, we would be indistinguishable in function from the simplest living substance imaginable, because such labor is itself only the state of having life. Thus labor, taken by itself, is a purely natural and not at all moral, thoughtful, or self-reflective.

An entirely laboring species would interact entirely with nature in its raw form. We are far more used to engaging with the enduring products of work – the chair in which you are sitting, the buildings in which you live and work, the screen on which you are reading this post. All of these more permanent tools and edifices arise from a surplus of labor capacity beyond that needed to satisfy the basic needs of life. From this surplus work arise objects meant for use, rather than for consumption. That these products last beyond the life of their creator distinguishes them from mere consumable goods and creates the enduring, man-made world with which are most familiar.

Durable creations are thus also the chief defining feature of human activity and, indeed, of human excellence. The ability to transcend natural imperatives implies and affirms a hierarchy of action in which the most fully human (I pointedly do not say “best,” “most moral,” etc.) of behaviors is to divorce oneself entirely from subsistence labor and create only lasting products and ideas. The capitalist system – as do all economic systems – provides a framework for the production and distribution of durable goods, but durable ideas can arise only within a political, not an economic, forum.

Human excellence materializes through politics when an action is endowed permanence by memory, that is, when it is found worthy of remembrance. Only this intergenerational transmission can bestow upon intangible goods, like stories, theories, or deeds, the same permanence that exists in the creation of lasting material goods like chairs and computers.

Unlike material goods, however, ideas can last as long as the species. A wooden chair will eventually decay, but the ideas of Socrates can endure indefinitely in the minds of each successive generation. Even were the chair built of solid titanium, guaranteed to last for all of civilization, still the idea, taken for granted by us, that this oddly shaped metal construction is meant to be sat upon must endure if the chair is to endure. If the idea is not passed on, then even this presumably permanent structure becomes only so much raw material. Intangible goods – stories, theories, and ideas – thus contain the ultimate seeds of permanence and therefore of true human excellence. That such intangibles require a public forum to thrive underscores the fundamental importance to humanity of a healthy political realm.

The central role granted to money and monetary expenditures threatens human excellence in the political realm because commoditization can exist only where goods are treated as substitutable. Both the strong formulation that “money is speech” and weaker formulation that “monetary expenditures are necessary for political speech” imply the commoditization of the forum, and therefore the substitutability of the speech therein. I highly doubt, for instance, that HGTV cares whether they are airing a Romney ad, an Obama ad, an anti-smoking ad, a pro-gay marriage ad, or an ad demanding more prisons, so long as they receive the same amount of money for each one. The “pay to play” mentality, inherent in markets, hinders the introduction of new material to the discourse and limits speakers based on apolitical, economic characteristics.

Because the market limits space in the forum, individuals who have not been economically successful are also denied the ability to become politically successfully. They are doubly robbed of the capacity for human excellence because failure within the market structures that allow for the shadow excellence of producing durable goods implies exclusion from the political forum in which alone can one achieve the greater excellence of producing durable thoughts.

The commoditization of the political forum surrenders the political realm to a handful of wealthy individuals, creating a de facto plutocracy within an otherwise democratic forum. Against this stands the general American assumption that casting a ballot is the ultimate form of democratic expression, and so exclusion from speaking publicly in no way entails the surrender of governmental power. A ballot, however, can in no way be speech in that it is both anonymous, therefore not human excellence, and a prescribed choice, therefore not creative or spontaneous. The dialectic that shapes politics and policy is constituted by the creation of ideas that frame our modes of understanding the world. Surrendering that dialectic to market forces is not identical with surrendering partisan control of the White House, but it is identical with surrendering control of the expectations and priorities by which policy is judged.

We interact far more with man-made objects than with the raw, natural world, and so we are conditioned to understand and interact with the man-made world. As any millennial trying to teach a grandparent how to use computers will attest, we also become conditioned to the particular objects that dominate our world growing up. We are similarly conditioned to think in a manner consistent with the dominant modes of thought to which we are exposed. When we are exposed to the thoughts and thought processes of only a few perspectives, we are conditioned to think in relation to those standards. Thus, an oligopoly of political speech entails an oligopoly of thought.

Speech is not a good for purchased, but an activity in which to engage. A narrow perspective, an enforced dialectic, an economically dominated public forum, and corporate control of access to political notoriety undermine political liberty, human excellence, and our collective future.

MiP 3 – Money and Spontaneity

International Money Pile in Cash and Coins

Money, the prerequisite to speech post–Citizens United (Photo credit: epSos.de)

Part 3 of Money in Politics.

“Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but not to his own facts.” – Daniel Patrick Moynihan

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The essence of human action is the spontaneous creation of something entirely new – a tool, a product, or an idea. Food, drink, and the ingredients therein are consumed almost immediately following their creation. They lack any permanence whatsoever except as an eternally recurring component of the natural cycles of life. This type of consumption comprises a biological imperative, which human will can forestall only by causing its own death. The unending cycle of life enslaves all biological creatures, from earthworms to people, and in our need to satisfy it we are no different from any other living thing. The market economy and the division of labor mean that few of us actually produce the goods we consume for sustenance, yet subsistence labor remains: we still must work for money to trade for the basic needs of life, and labor for which the laborer gains only the means to provide for his or her own continued existence remains in principle the same component of the cycle of life, only that a sophisticated system of trade has been introduced to regulate this cycle.

Ethnic grocery store

Grocery store shelf with consumable goods (Photo credit: Pirkka Aunola)

If subsistence labor were all that humans could accomplish, we would be indistinguishable in function from the simplest living substance imaginable, because such labor is itself only the state of having life. Thus labor, taken by itself, is a purely natural and not at all moral, thoughtful, or self-reflective.

We interact very little, if at all, with nature in its raw form, as an entirely laboring species would do. We are far more used to engaging with the enduring products of work – the chair in which you are sitting, the buildings in which you live and work, the screen on which you are reading this post. All of these more permanent tools and edifices arise from a surplus of labor capacity beyond that needed to satisfy the basic needs of life. From this surplus work arise objects meant for use, rather than for consumption. That these products last beyond the life of their creator distinguishes them from mere consumable goods and creates the enduring, man-made world with which are most familiar.

Durable creations are thus also the chief defining feature of human activity and, indeed, of human excellence. The ability to transcend natural imperatives implies and affirms a hierarchy of action in which the most fully human (I pointedly do not say “best,” “most moral,” etc.) of behaviors is to divorce oneself entirely from subsistence labor and create only lasting products and ideas. The capitalist system – as do all economic systems – provides a framework for the production and distribution of durable goods, but durable ideas can arise only within

a political, not an economic, forum.

Human excellence materializes through politics when an action is endowed permanence by memory, that is, when it is found worthy of remembrance. Only this intergenerational transmission can bestow upon intangible goods, like stories, theories, or deeds, the same permanence that exists in the creation of lasting material goods like chairs and computers.

Portrait of Socrates. Marble, Roman artwork (1...

A bust of Socrates, 469-399 B.C.E., who we still remember 2400 years later after his death (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Unlike material goods, ideas can last as long as the species. Though a wooden chair will eventually decay, the ideas of Socrates can endure indefinitely in the minds of each successive generation. Even were the chair built of solid titanium, guaranteed to last for all of future history, still the idea, taken for granted by us, that this oddly shaped metal construction is meant to be sat upon must endure if the chair is to endure. If the idea is not passed on, then even this presumably permanent structure becomes only so much raw material. Intangible goods – stories, theories, and ideas – thus contain the ultimate seeds of permanence and therefore of true human excellence. That such intangibles require a political forum to thrive underscores the fundamental importance to humanity of a healthy political realm.

The central role granted to money and monetary expenditures threatens human excellence in the political realm because commoditization can exist only where goods are treated as substitutable. Both the strong formulation that “money is speech” and weaker formulation that “monetary expenditures are necessary for political speech” imply the commoditization of the forum, and therefore the substitutability of the speech therein. I highly doubt, for instance, that HGTV cares whether they are airing a Romney ad, an Obama ad, an anti-smoking ad, a pro-gay marriage ad, or an ad demanding more prisons, so long as they receive the same amount of money for each one. The “pay to play” mentality, inherent in markets, hinders the introduction of new material to the discourse and limits speakers based on apolitical, economic characteristics.

Because space in the forum is limited by the market, individuals who have not been economically successful are also denied the ability to become politically successfully. They are doubly robbed of the capacity for human excellence because failure within the market structures that allow for the shadow excellence of producing durable goods implies exclusion from the political forum in which alone can one achieve the greater excellence of producing durable thoughts.

One practical worry regarding the commoditization of the political forum is that it hands over the political realm to a handful of wealthy individuals, creating a de factoplutocracy within an otherwise democratic forum. Against this stands the general American assumption that casting a ballot is the ultimate form of democratic expression, and so exclusion from speaking publicly in no way entails the surrender of governmental power. A ballot, however, can in no way be speech in that it is both anonymous, therefore not human excellence, and a prescribed choice, therefore not creative or spontaneous. The dialectic that shapes politics and policy is constituted by the creation of ideas that frame our modes of understanding the world. Surrendering that dialectic to market forces is not identical with surrendering partisan control of the White House, but it is identical with surrendering control of the expectations, priorities, and scrutiny of public policy.

Shell Oil Company

Shell Oil Company (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Put simply, Royal Dutch Shell does not get to vote on a public policy debate’s outcome, but it has disproportionate power in setting its terms.

A more general problem with the commoditization of political speech is, in turn, the commoditization of truth. As noted above, we interact far more with man-made objects than with the raw, natural world, and so we are conditioned to understand and interact with the man-made world. As any millennial trying to teach a grandparent how to use computers will attest, we also become conditioned to the particular objects that dominate our world growing up. And as with objects, so too with ideas. We are conditioned to think in a manner consistent with the dominant modes of thought to which we are exposed.

When we are exposed to the thoughts and thought processes of only a few perspectives, we are conditioned to think in relation to those standards. Thus, an oligopoly of political speech entails an oligopoly of thought.

Even where diverse viewpoints exist, as in environmentalism or the TEA Party, these movements’ access to limited forum space gives them undeserved sway over the types of thought and analysis that take place in politics. Al Gore or Michelle Bachmann, for example, bring fairly little personal, creative perspective to the public discussions of global warming or government overreach, respectively. In the main, each of them is remembered for furthering an existing line of argumentation rather than for creating a new discourse or fundamentally changing the discourse that already exists. They thus acquire notoriety within a pre-existing system, rather than winning notoriety by the very human creation of new systems. My point here is not to argue that such contributions are meaningless or worthless, but rather to illustrate that private interests control access to general fame of the type that creates enduring memories. That is, equating money with speech allows economic powers to control access to human excellence in politics.

The rich and vibrant political forum shrinks when money impinges on speech. More is not better when that more acts to the exclusion of other voices. One may legitimately fear that commoditizing speech makes the economically disenfranchised cease interest in political activity because they see themselves as lacking efficacy. Remarkable rates of voter apathy in the U.S. suggest that this may have already occurred. Thus, the interests of the poor, as well as their life perspectives, are lost to the public debate, and the social fabric by which we engage one another in our common humanity begins to tear and unravel.

This post does not establish a moral theory that can rigorously declare this unravelling “wrong.” Certainly a narrow perspective, an enforced dialectic, an economically dominated public forum, and corporate control of access to political notoriety are detriment human excellence. I leave it to the reader to confirm that they are also wrong for our society.

MiP 2 – Money and Citizenship

George Orwell - Author series

George Orwell – Author series (Photo credit: New Chemical History)

Part 2 of the series Money in Politics.

“The ruling power is always faced with the question, ‘In such and such circumstances, what would you do?’, whereas the opposition is not obliged to take responsibility or make any real decisions. Where it is a permanent and pensioned opposition… the quality of its thought deteriorates accordingly.” – George Orwell, “Rudyard Kipling” from Fifty Orwell Essays

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Democracy has at its core the equitable consideration of the needs of all of its citizens. An a moral level, this recognizes their individual worth. At a practical level, this provides an institutional outlet for citizen’s frustrations, thus keeping the people from resorting to violent revolution. A defining feature of democracy is the loyal opposition, which challenges the ruling interests in the hopes of one day gaining control of the government. The governing coalition will naturally portray each of its policies as a successful step forward for the country, so the depth and rigor of the public discourse is primarily determined by the opposition’s reactions to government claims. If the opposition resorts to mudslinging, little constructive discourse can be found; if it engages the substance of the government’s position, then the necessary groundwork for political vitality has been laid.

Mubarak's Reform will open "new doors&quo...
Mubarak’s Reform will open “new doors” for political participation (Photo credit: Hossam el-Hamalawy حسام الحملاوي)

It is also a feature of modern democracy that not everyone is a political actor. The logistical struggle of a national referendum on every major issue is simply too costly to serve as an administrative system. Instead, we elect representatives and join political parties, with a vote for a candidate or party usually interpreted as a broad endorsement of its policies. Consequently, we rely on the institutionalized opposition to provide a serious alternative to government policies.

The democratic check on a shallow opposition, as well as the defining feature of democracy, is the promise that it may one day inherit the reins of government, with all the responsibility that entails. When it comes time to rule, the opposition must have a workable plan, or else it will fail as a government and be booted out of office in the next election, its reputation seriously, perhaps permanently, damaged. When apolitical actors like corporations and unions (neither of which can hold government office) become politicized, this check ceases to function, as attacks on the ruling coalition need no longer be grounded in reliable alternatives to achieve the actors’ legislative goals.

Raise A Finger
Raise A Finger (Photo credit: boris.rasin)

It does not take a pessimistic view of society to believe that hyperbole and misinformation can skew electoral outcomes. Regardless of how much a candidate’s policies benefit me, e.g., by guaranteeing affordable healthcare, I am unlikely to support him if I cannot trust his character, for example, because I believe that he is a radical Islamic militant bent on global domination. The Republican party establishment could never get away with repeating claims with no grounding in policy or in reality, though admittedly a handful of Republican candidates do. Apolitical organizations, those that do not hope to ascend to power, have no such inhibitions because they will never be held electorally accountable. Such attacks, do, however, serve to ingratiate the candidate or party that they aid, allowing these near-libelous organizations additional access to candidates, and perhaps winning benefitting candidates’ support for some narrow policy goals, like lower corporate taxes or protectionist labor laws. This is why the Koch Brothers can get away with bankrolling Tea Party nonsense like the dribble above, and why the Democratic Super PAC, Priorities USA, can get away with implying that Mitt Romney made his fortune killing workers.

English: Rachel Maddow in Seattle.
A left-wing apolitical actor. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Independent contributors’ evasion of electoral accountability might yet be remedied if speakers were at least subject to public scrutiny. However, inherent in speech is the idea of a speaker, and the political nature of speech depends upon publicly claiming ownership of one’s ideas. Absent an identifiable source to clarify and defend them, ideas remain too nebulous to constitute political discourse. While an idea presented anonymously may be taken up by a political actor,  until such a time as a political actor claims the idea it does not constitute a form of speech, much less a form of political engagement. Thus, while media pundits like Rachel Maddow (left) and Sean Hannity (below-right) remain apolitical in their official capacities, subject to economic markets and not political forums, their concrete identities at least enable them to become political agents. Anonymous contributors lack even this possibility.

Sean Hannity at King of Prussia Mall, PA
A right-wing apolitical actor. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Moreover, unlimited campaign expenditures can crowd out speech, amplifying a few voices but diminishing or eliminating others. Speech requires multiple points of view because, though it is caused by a person, speech can exist only between people. “You have Fox and I have MSNBC” does not create discourse, because discourse requires a bilaterally accessible medium of communication. It is in the interest of democracy to create such a forum by ensuring relatively equal access to speech from all citizens. Equalizing economic conditions within politics promotes a meritocracy of ideas better than a system that equates economic success with political profundity. Only this meritocratic system ensures the ultimate stability of democratic states.

While a political sphere entirely separated from the economic sphere may, in fact, contain some inequality – e.g., in speakers’ background knowledge or rhetorical skills – these skills are at least political in nature, relatively amenable to self-improvement, and relevant to political processes. In contrast stands wealth accumulated by the selling of products or services, which entails no such persuasive prowess, but, indeed, quite the opposite: profits, the surplus wealth of business, arise from the brute force of desire compelling economic activity. In no event should the public welfare be conflated with this private satisfaction of desire, as public legislation deals necessarily with emergent societal needs that lack microeconomic analogues. Neither should matters of public welfare necessarily be subject to the wills of the economically successful, as the selflessness of authentic public service transcends the personal enrichment inherent in capitalistic enterprise.

Democracy exists only where opposition forces guarantee a high-quality political discourse. When we surrender that discourse to apolitical, economic actors, democracy itself must surely suffer.

MiP 1 – Money and Speech

Buckley v Valeo opinion Wordle

Buckley v Valeo opinion Wordle (Photo credit: llaannaa)

Part 1 of the series Money in Politics.

“A restriction on the amount of money a person or group can spend on political communication during a campaign necessarily reduces the quantity of expression by restricting the number of issues discussed, the depth of their exploration, and the size of the audience reached.” – Per Curiam (Anonymous) Majority Opinion, Buckley v. Valeo, 1976, quoted in Justice Kennedy’s Majority Opinion, Citizens United v. FEC, 2010.

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Let us begin with a facial evaluation of the Court’s claim that independent expenditures on electioneering speech, primarily television and radio advertisements, increases the breadth, depth, and inclusiveness of speech. The first two claims display an appallingly naïve conception of how mass political campaigning works.

English: Anthony Kennedy, Associate Justice of...

English: Anthony Kennedy, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As the court rightly notes, broadcast advertising is expensive, so ad spots tend to be purchased by relatively few organizations that collect and concentrate contributions from many individuals (e.g., SuperPACs). Producing advertisements can also be expensive, limiting the number of “speakers” still further; at any rate it is more effective to run many ads about a few issues than to run only a few ads for each of a few issues. Political organizations conduct focus groups and internal polling to select the issues they will present. They then produce a slanted advertisement full of emotionally laden but intellectually shallow content. These ads often cite headlines from major newspapers without a shred of context, perhaps interviewing some angry citizens or indignant small business owners.

As a result of concentrating contributions in a few key lines of electioneering and the limited and emotive nature of short broadcast advertisements, independent political expenditures do little to diversify or deepen discussion of issues of public importance. Even the chief protection against shallow and repetitive messages, the supposed independence of, well, independent expenditures from official campaign strategy, is easily bypassed by waiting for the candidate to make a public attack on his opponent, then immediately preparing ads repeating and amplifying that attack. Such tactics have the added benefit of letting the candidate claim the high road by not directly associating with negative advertising.

The current state of political advertising demonstrates inherent differences between speech and independent campaign expenditures. Unlike speech, monetary expenditures lack political content. A SuperPAC can spend a small fortune espousing the benefits of a healthy breakfast or just air hours of white space, if it so desires. Merely buying up ad space (the monetary expenditure part) is distinct from imbedding content in those advertisements (the political speech part). Monetary outlays do not have any speech content unless accompanied by some other communication, even in the case of politicized transactions like boycotts.

The cover of The Assault on Reason by Al Gore.

The cover of The Assault on Reason by Al Gore. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Court thus relies solely on the belief that large monetary outlays are a necessary condition for exercising constitutionally protected free speech rights. They rely on the bizarre logic that because our primary media happen to be controlled by corporations who use dollars as a unit of access, we as a political entity must also use dollars as the unit of access to speech. This is simply not the case. The government could establish a publicly available political forum. A dramatically less expensive form of media like the Internet could take over*. And while the Supreme Court may be right that media is a commodity in the present day and age, its majority opinion establishes a precedent intended to prevail indefinitely. The grand irony is that Citizens United may allow exactly the type of plutocratic control of media development and regulatory structures that would prevent the emergence of a truly egalitarian public forum.

Even so, the nature of television and radio as mass media creates two more problems absent in normal speech: bandwidth limitations and unilateral communication. Political speech, in its most basic form, comprises two or more individuals verbally communicating with one another about a matter of public importance. The Greek agora and the Roman forum are political venues precisely because any citizen within them has equal power to engage in persuasive discussion with any other citizen present. All citizens, in turn, have free access to the venue.

Radio, by contrast, has a finite number of usable frequencies, and television has a finite number of channels with substantial viewership. These media forms are far more scarce – and therefore far more expensive for the author – than, say print media was at the time of the American Revolution. Moreover, the relatively small market in these media means that increased demand during presidential elections rapidly increases the price of ad space – even web-based advertisements suffer a price hike before election day. The structure of telecommunications limits the number of political ads that can be aired, so that unlimited ad buys simultaneously diminish the quantity of speech by crowding out other, less wealthy advertisers.

Both radio and television (and still, to some extent, web content such as YouTube videos) allow only for one-way communication, from the advertiser to the content subscriber. Broadcast advertisements therefore treat the viewer or listener as a mere receptacle for persuasion, and not herself as a persuasive, human voice. In common speech, the immediate proximity of the speaker to her listener is essential to the act of speech – one must both attempt to persuade and be open to persuasion to engage in political discourse. The Court does away with the multidimensional plurality of politics when it concerns itself with “the size of the audience reached” and not with the size of mutually engaged citizenry.

Rather than expand political speech, unlimited independent expenditures thus stifle free expression by placing de facto limits on who is allowed the loudest voice, viz., whoever has the most money to spend. The Citizens United ruling is thus the modern-day equivalent of giving bullhorns to a handful of Roman citizens, such that their rancor effectively precludes the participation of others. And since neither the rogue shouter nor the mega-rich SuperPac is accountable to any standard of truth or logical consistency, the predictable and necessary effect is to dilute true political speech with senseless chatter.

James Madison

James Madison, author of Federalist no. 10 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The First Amendment exists to protect against a tyrannical government by guaranteeing the relatively equal ability of citizens to create and disseminate content critical of government practices and elected officials. It operates on the theory, expressed by Madison in The Federalist No. 10, that many, relatively equal factions will balance one another to prevent minority rule. When we allow economic success to translate into political prevalence, factions comprising the very wealthy gain disproportionate power over government, threatening the delicate balance that keeps our country free. Speech is not a good for purchased, but an activity in which to engage. Only be recognizing that truth can we ensure a healthy and vibrant democracy for future generations.

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*For a fairly insightful, albeit at times obnoxiously polemic, analysis of the Internet’s potential for furthering democratic participation, see The Assault On Reason by Al Gore. In an infamous interview during the 2000 presidential campaign, Gore allegedly claimed to have invented the Internet. He of course did not, and was actually referring to two pivotal pieces of Internet research legislation, the Supercomputer Network Study Act of 1986 and the High Performance Computing and Communication Act of 1991 (also known as the “Gore Bill”) that he sponsored and advocated as Congressman and, later, Senator. Both acts were critical to developing the Internet as we know it, leading Internet pioneers Vint Cerf and Bob Kahn to remark that “Congressman Gore… was the first elected official to grasp the potential of computer communications to have a broader impact than just improving the conduct of science and scholarship.” In other words, polemic or not, Al Gore has been an expert on Internet communications and telecommunications policy for over 30 years.

Money in Politics

Since the Supreme Court’s 2010 ruling in Citizens United v. FEC, the United States government has treated anonymous monetary contributions to political organizations as constitutionally protected free speech. Much has been made of the practical implications of Citizens United, especially in criticizing the potential for plutocracy inherent in the Court’s majority opinion. While I am generally sympathetic to such criticisms, I am writing this Money in Politics (MiP) series to evaluate a different premise of the Citizens United ruling: that independent expenditures are a form of constitutionally protected speech; simplistically, that money equals speech.

In fairness, the Court does not adhere to this premise directly. It cites the majority opinion from another case, Buckley v. Valeo, which reasons that money is a necessary prerequisite to political speech, therefore monetary outlays need protection in order to protect speech:  “A restriction on the amount of money a person or group can spend on political communication during a campaign necessarily reduces the quantity of expression by restricting the number of issues discussed, the depth of their exploration, and the size of the audience reached. This is because virtually every means of communicating ideas in today’s mass society requires the expenditure of money. The distribution of the humblest handbill or leaflet entails printing, paper, and circulation costs. Speeches and rallies generally necessitate hiring a hall and publicizing the event. The electorate’s increasing dependence on television, radio, and other mass media for news and information has made these expensive modes of communication indispensable instruments of effective political speech.” In other words, money is not speech per se, but because we live in a society that has privatized and commoditized major segments of the public forum, we should constitutionally protect persons’ ability to purchase space in such forums.

Its commission of the naturalism fallacy notwithstanding, the Court ignores substantial reasons to differentiate between monetary expenditures (a market transaction) and political speech (a political interaction). The very interests that the Court cites in establishing the historically contingent relation of money to speech – i.e., it’s ability to create broad, deep, and inclusive discussion of issues of public importance – are precisely those interests that no market transaction can achieve. In the three parts that follow, I will demonstrate the inadequacy of money in general, and anonymous contributions and dominant forms of mass media in particular, fail to obtain each of these three interests.

Part 1: Money and Speech discusses the nature of substantial political discourse and the differing capacities of independent campaign expenditures and actual political speech to add useful content to public discussions.

Part 2: Money and Citizenship discusses the role of the citizen in shaping political discussion and taking ownership of the political system generally and American democracy in particular, as well as how legal equivalence of money and speech erodes the traditional citizens’ ownership of democratic practices.

Part 3: Money and Spontaneity discusses the central role of political speech to the expression and achievement of human excellence, and how equating money with speech threatens the shared reality that forms the backdrop of the political realm as well as devalues the essentially creative nature of true political expression.

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(Photo courtesy of thevoterupdate.com)

A Case for “Big Government”

“Whereof we cannot speak, we must pass over in silence.” – Ludwig Wittgenstein

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In a previous post, I alluded to political action being a public act of persuasion. This is so first because the hallmarks of humanity are rationality and spontaneity, and second because only in a public space can rationality be conditioned or spontaneity acknowledged and recorded. I hold with Hannah Arendt that acts taken in a void are essentially meaningless – it is the interaction of one’s creative will with others that gives it substance. Moreover, politics must be uniquely interpersonal in that it takes humans as its primary object, whereas labor and work are concerned with natural resources and physical capital, respectively.

One consequence of viewing politics as persuasion is that only that which can be communicated can be political. Communicability, in turn, is simply the ability of one person to make himself or herself understood to another person, which is dependent upon a shared language through which we exchange ideas. Thus, a shared language defines the outermost bounds of the political realm that can exist within any given society.

This ability of social activity to create space for politics enables human excellence, but can just as readily restrict the potential for action. We can exclude communicable ideas from politics by declaring them private opinions. For example, religion in the United States (at least in the case of Christian denominations, less so with Islam since its re-politicization after 9/11) is now broadly considered a private issue, not fit for public critique and certainly not a matter on which others will publicly attempt to change your mind. Calls in the wake of the Aurora shootings that “Now is not the time to talk about gun control” similarly remove subjects from persuasive (ergo political) discourse and therefore from the potential for excellent human engagement. If one person decides not to buy a gun for the sake of principle, it will have little or no impact on other people and certainly will not garner public remembrance. Were the same person to organize a successful movement to reinstate America’s assault rifle ban, then he would create a permanent and public legal record of political achievement. Thus, while there may exist some moral or even practical case for a particular subject being excluded from political discourse, we must weigh all such cases against the lost capacity for human excellence in the field.

A large number of topics available to political discourse draws people into political activity, courtesy of the well-documented tendency to care more about issues directly relevant to one’s own experiences. When someone feels that the prevailing public discourse excludes the topics most important to him, it stands to reason that he will be less likely to participate in that discourse. For example, if I am an ardent believer in transparent school boards, but nobody else thinks the issue is important, then I cannot easily engage in political activity to attempt to enact my agenda. At best, the opportunity cost of creating a dialogue where none exists could dissuade me from pursuing political excellence in the area of administrative accountability. My beliefs about transparency are, albeit innocently, marginalized and therefore privatized: can believe that, but I should not attempt to persuade anyone else to join me in acting on it. Thus can social priorities limit political activity even without intent.

The ultimate triumph of the social over the political occurs when there ceases to be a plurality of persuasive voices. Tyranny achieves this singularity via propaganda and centralized control. The most extreme plausible example of this is George Orwell’s Newspeak, which goes beyond simply excluding topics from discussion but actually makes it impossible to discuss complex ideas by removing the vocabulary needed for their communication. However, radical liberty can also eradicate politics by emancipating people from persuasive activity and employing government purely as a mechanism for supporting the private sphere.

It may be argued that market transactions, being based on individual choices, can constitute a form of speech. However, merely economic forums, like markets, or social forums, like the Church of Scientology, cannot replace politics. Money is not speech, and economics is not persuasion, because economics is fundamentally the science of necessities, and it follows necessarily causal laws. Markets do not allow for creativity or persuasion, only accounting. Likewise, purely social forums, those that are self-selected and cannot enforce law, lack the elements that drive political activity, namely, divergent opinions and an incentive to guide the institution’s use of force by influencing its agenda. The lack of heretics within the Church of Scientology is precisely the evidence that it is an apolitical institution.

Deciding what to purchase or what groups to join can, of course, be connected to political action, as in boycotts, but only insofar as it conveys a recognizable and persuasive message. A boycott sends a recognizable message only when publicized alongside the reasons for the boycott; publishing reasons, of course, is political speech. The boycott itself adds no substance to the speech, it merely adds pathos by conveying the actors’ willingness to sacrifice economic benefits for the sake of moral sentiment. This, in turn, presupposes the primacy of economic, apolitical interests in our decision-making process, and so is itself an apolitical, or even anti-political gesture.

Unlike markets or social clubs, democratic government is an institution based entirely on persuading others to act together towards some common purpose. Such persuasive activity is the paramount human behavior. Therefore it is through democratic institutions that we express our humanity. The hastened emancipation of personal choices from public debate limits the accessibility and relevance of this forum and therefore marginalizes truly human activity. To best enable human excellence, we must expand, not contract, the scope of topics assailable in the public sphere.

We can start by recognizing that nearly all of our choices impact other people, therefore nearly all of our choices are worth considering in an unselfish manner. This does not mean that we must abandon our principles to the whims of the majority; indeed, defending one’s convictions politically is itself an excellent act. Nor do I believe that “big government” means lots of red tape, high taxes, and expansive welfare, but rather that any given regulation, tax law, and welfare program be subject to reasoned and public discourse that shapes the prerogative of the relevant authority.

Finally, recall that politics depends not upon the government, but upon persuasive speech. If one acts through persuasive speech to limit or remove government involvement in one area or another, that is itself a political act. One must merely be prepared to defend that limitation ad infinitum in further political discourse. The problem of small government arises from the categorical rejection of discussing government action in one area or another, in the deliberate exclusion of whole subjects from public debate. Insofar as broad governmental prerogative brings these questions back into the fold, we might consider a potentially expansive state as a worthwhile opportunity to fulfill our unique human potential.

Maybe government is really just about the same size as its citizens.

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(Photo courtesy of political-humor.org)