collectivism Archives — Laissez FaireLaissez Faire

If you would like to ask me a question, you can submit it here.

Here’s a question from an LF commenter, James: “What should we do with our wilderness areas that are currently considered crown land or government land? In the U.S. and Canada, as well as other areas of the world, we have large areas of wilderness that even I as a capitalist, would hate to see sold to the public, or developed.”

Before I answer that, let me tell you a story. Some of my fondest memories growing up were spending time at my grandparents’ place in Pennsylvania. They lived in a small house behind the restaurant they owned—the same house where my dad grew up.

The house and restaurant have since been sold, but still I think about the old place sometimes. Although I haven’t been there in years, it would bring me close to tears to find out the current owners have torn the house down, which, considering its quality, they probably have.

But should the government be allowed to stop them from using their property as they see fit, based only on my feelings? Should government be empowered to confiscate the property and declare it “public,” based on my desire to preserve it? The answer is no—government’s task is to protect those owners’ rights, not to infringe upon them.

The same principle applies to land that is already controlled by the government. The fact that you might not like how others would use that land isn’t a good argument for the government controlling it. Why should you get to impose your views on others? Why are your desires more important than those of the potential buyer who wants to drill for oil, or create a private nature preserve (rather than one financed by funds expropriated from taxpayers)? What if modern environmentalists had existed when the New World was discovered and their desire was to have the government own the entire continent in order to keep it “pristine”?

The government’s role isn’t to dictate how we use property—it’s to protect our right to acquire and use property as we judge best. It should be auctioning off public lands so that individuals can use them to improve human life.

Would some of the land now kept as “wilderness” be developed, i.e., used to raise people’s standard of living? Sure it would. Would some of that land be developed in a way that preserves its natural beauty for people to enjoy? Of course. The most valuable economic use of the Grand Canyon is unlikely to be the world’s most remote car dealership.

The bottom line, though, is that if you don’t want land used in ways you don’t like, then in a free society, you (and others who share your values) have the freedom to try to stop that use through voluntary means, whether it be through boycotts, petitions, or buying the property outright. But you can’t use the government to impose your values on other people.

Yaron debates David Schweickart on the morality of capitalism at Loyola University Chicago. The event was held March 17, 2013.

Washington Post writer Steven Pearlstein recently published a thoughtful piece on the morality of capitalism that has gotten a lot of attention. I have a lot to say about it, and I want to start with one of the more intriguing questions raised by Pearlstein.

After going over what he calls “the moral case against redistribution,” he raises “one glaring problem”:

For implicit in the imperative to let the productive keep what they earn is an assumption that the markets distribute income in a way that accurately reflects everyone’s relative economic contribution—and therefore is fair. But is that true?

Pearlstein goes on to say that in a simple barter economy, the connection between what a person contributes to production and his wealth is clear. But in a complex division of labor economy? “[T]he connection between what is produced and who is responsible for producing it is not so obvious.”

Can you see where Pearlstein is going with this? If the connection between what a person gets paid on a market and what he contributes to production is fuzzy, then that person has no moral grounds for objecting when the government confiscates and doles out his income.

But Pearlstein is wrong. Dead wrong. On a free market, the connection between what a person contributes to production and his income is as clear as day: what he makes is what he produces—as judged by those who voluntarily pay him.

When Pearlstein raises the question of whether pay reflects productive contribution, he is adopting a central planner’s perspective. Implicit in his question is the idea that under capitalism, resources start out as some collective pie, markets then distribute those resources “somehow,” and now we have to stand back and look at market outcomes and divine if they “fairly” reflect each individual’s contribution.

But wealth is not a tribal product which some disembodied “market” “distributes.” What actually happens is that, under capitalism, individuals create and trade wealth. There is no “distribution” of income. Instead every dollar a person gets comes from the voluntary judgment of each individual who chooses to deal with him.

What makes your income “fair” is not that it matches some arbitrary economic benchmark (e.g., some fixed “share” of income going to capital and labor, as Pearlstein seems to endorse)—what makes it fair is that it is the product of an objective process: the free, uncoerced, voluntary judgment of market participants.

Contrast that with the approach implied by Pearlstein’s argument: a group of bureaucrats will get together, decide those voluntary decisions are “unfair,” and coercively seize and distribute people’s wealth so that it conforms to theirs, the bureaucrats’, feelings about what is “fair.”

What’s especially revealing about this argument is Pearlstein’s concession that if a person could claim to have earned his income, then it would be a moral travesty to take it and hand it over to people who didn’t earn it. And on that point he is absolutely right.

But Pearlstein aside, there is a legitimate question: how do market participants assess others’ productive contribution in a complex, division of labor economy? How does a board of directors assess the contribution of the CEO and other high level executives? How do managers assess the productive contribution of their employees?

It ain’t easy. They have to have a lot of knowledge about their company, all of the people involved, how many others in the labor market have the skills and aptitudes necessary to do the various kinds of work, to name just a scant few factors.

Do they always get it right? Of course not. But what’s unique about capitalism is that market forces reward people for good decisions and punish them for bad decisions: companies that pay people too little see good employees head for greener pastures; companies that pay people too much see their resources depleted relative to competitors. As a result, there is a tendency in a market for income to reflect productivity.

And if it is challenging for someone to assess the productive contribution of people within his own company, it is virtually impossible for a complete outsider to do so. What does Larry Ellison contribute to Oracle? How much value does he bring to the table? That’s a Herculean question for Oracle’s board of directors to answer, and it’s ludicrous to expect—as critics of market outcomes such as Pearlstein often do—that someone not deeply familiar with Oracle and its industry should be able to answer it.

The majesty of capitalism is that it doesn’t matter. Why not? Because “we” aren’t the one’s paying Ellison’s salary. Oracle’s shareholders are, and if an individual shareholder thinks Ellison is overpaid, he is free to sell his shares. The fairness of Ellison’s pay is not anyone’s to decide but his and those who voluntarily choose to pay him (or not).

One of the major themes of this blog is the individualist conviction that your life belongs to you—and that in morality and in politics one must never forget that fact. If you want an unforgettable example of what it means to forget (or evade) that fact, check out this recent New York Times editorial, “The Real Spending Problem.”

What is the real spending problem, according to the Times? Believe it or not, it’s your freedom to spend your own money. No, seriously.

Each year, the government doles out tax breaks worth $1.1 trillion. That is more than the cost of Medicare and Medicaid combined. . . .

Tax breaks work like spending. Giving a deduction for certain activities, like homeownership or retirement savings, is the same as writing a government check to subsidize those activities. Functionally, they mimic entitlements. Like Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security, they are available, year in and year out, in full, to all who qualify. Yet in budget talks, Republicans ignore tax entitlements, which flow mostly to high-income taxpayers, while pushing to cut Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security.

Now, if you found those paragraphs baffling, it’s probably because you’re thinking that there’s kind of a big difference between tax breaks and entitlements: tax breaks involve the government taking less of the money you’ve earned through blood, sweat, and hard work—while entitlements involve seizing more of those earnings and handing them out to other people.

But the Times’s argument becomes graspable once you realize that the left doesn’t look at things that way. It looks at everything from a thoroughly collectivist perspective, where all individuals are interchangeable, their wealth is pooled, and what matters is “society” and its representative, the state.

From that perspective, it’s true that there is no essential difference between entitlements and tax cuts. They are both “costs” to the government: Tax cuts leave resources in the hands of “society” rather than moving them into the pockets of the state, while entitlements shift resources from the pockets of the state back to “society.” Different process, same result.

But the individualist and collectivist perspectives are not “equally valid.” The left’s collectivist perspective is totally false—there is no entity “society” made up of interchangeable units. And it’s totally evil—because pretending that there is a collective means, in practice, treating actual individuals as if their lives and rights don’t matter.