The Prince and the Dragon — or, my experience with Anarchist Theory
Randall Randall (randallsquared ) asks this: "I assume, however, that you’ve read such books as Friedman’s _The Machinery of Freedom_ and Rothbard’s _The Ethics of Liberty_, both of which were instrumental in my road to anarchist. If you’ve read those, then I’m not sure that there’s anything I know to say which will convince you."
Alas, you give me too much credit. I have read some Murry Rothbard, but not that one. I have never read Freidman.
I was talked out of Anarchy by a book that attempted to talk me into it, which I read my Freshman year in law school. I cannot recall the title or author (It may have been IN DEFENSE OF ANARCHY by Robert Paul Wolff, but I am not sure.)
It was a slim volume. The author said he meant to examine whether there was any a-priori moral justification for obedience to a sovereign authority.
By ‘a priori’ he meant he would not examine the pragmatic, practical, real-world argument that governments are instituted among men to secure their natural liberties, and ergo must have the authority to take such steps as needed to secure those liberties if it is to achieve the ends for which is it instituted, losing legitimacy when and only when, as a practical matter, government itself become destructive of those ends.
In the first chapter the author defined his terms and his method of inquiry. He defined legitimate sovereignty as raw power no different from the illegitimate power of a gang of robbers to terrorize a neighborhood.
He said that he would not look at any arguments which accorded legitimacy to the sovereign claim based on tradition, use, custom, pragmatism, practicality, consent or suffrage. In other words, even if government is a tool used to achieve a given end, this author would not look at whether, when, or if that tool can achieve that end.
He then spent ten chapters looking at abstract arguments unrelated to any of the real-world reasons why men actually organize themselves into defensive gangs and tribes (such as, e.g., to fight enemies).
He then concluded that, since there was no abstract justification for sovereignty, therefore sovereignty as a concept was no more legitimate than a gang of robbers.
Got that? He defines "legitimate sovereign authority" as "illegitimate raw power". He announces that he will not examine the differences between raw power and legitimate authority in chapter one. He piddles through ten chapters of argument, and concludes that illegitimate raw power is illegitimate, ergo sovereign authority is illegitimate.
It was my first exposure to a purely circular argument. I was amazed anyone would write this stuff, or believe it, or not see through it.
As if a passenger, called by the captain during a storm to man the pumps lest the ship be swamped and sink, objected that the captain had no right to call on non-crewmen to do labor.
The passenger announces that his method of analysis will not take into account whether or not the ship is in storm or calm, safe in port or in immediate danger of sinking in the high seas. Danger is the same as non-danger by definition. The method of analysis will not take into account whether or not the captain, by the nature of his office, has a duty to see to the safety of the ship which a non-captain does not have. The captain is the same as a non-captain by definition.
The passenger then concludes that since a non-captain does not have authority to issue commands in time of non-danger, ergo the captain does not have authority to issue commands in time of danger. Q.E.D. Then the ship sinks.
It actually made me laugh aloud, it was so poorly constructed as an argument. Yes, Virginia, if you assume at the outset that sovereignty is illegitimate, and exclude by hypothesis any arguments that show sovereignty is legitimate, you will and must conclude in the conclusion that sovereignty is illegitimate!
I spent maybe a year in the general practice firm. The kind of clients we represented, with one exception, were the kind of men who would break or bend any law they could get away with, seeking their own advantage, and seeking retribution, damage, and ruination of their adversaries, usually vindictively. Imagine a divorcee willing to spend a thousand dollars on legal fees to compel a five hundred dollar alimony payment. People who swallowed a tack seeking to sue the tack manufacturer for making so dangerous a product. Even cases where no personal vindictiveness was involved, the parties sought with great energy their own interests, straining at the limits of what the fine print of their contracts might allow.
They were, in other words, ordinary people no different from me or you.
When I imagine such people in an anarchy, bound by nothing but their own benevolence to carry out unpleasing duties or act against their own selfish desires and self-interest, I imagine mere anarchy.
The only thing that would happen is that gangs would form, each to protect its own interests from the other; by usage or vote or the mandate of heaven, the gangs would appoint a prince to lead them, and the gangs, in their own self protection, would seek to hinder the prince from abusing his powers, without hindering the legitimate exercise of those powers for the common defense and general welfare: and this is the art of politics.
On the one hand, the people need protection from the dragons of crime and war. On the other hand, people need protection from the prince, whose general benevolence is not sufficient to ensure he will not abuse the power granted him. Negotiating between Scylla and Charybdis is no easier.
If the prince does not have armor, a lance, and a warhorse, he cannot go fight the dragon. If the dragon is not fought, the fields are burnt.
The prince cannot afford arms and armor and highhearted steed of his own funds. Those he protects must pay.
No man will pay unless he is sure his neighbor will pay also. It is not like buying a hamburger where those who do not pay do not eat. Like it or not, they stand or fall as a group.
No man will be sure his neighbor will pay also, since it is in each man’s self interest to have his neighbors pay and to escape payment himself. Each man knows this is the disposition of each other man’s self interest. Human nature being what it is, each man knows neither he nor his neighbor will pay unless all are compelled. Justice being what it is, no man should pay, compelled or not, unless the payment is arguably neutral, proportionate, or just. In other words, it must be a tax, and it must be enforced by a tax law which spells out the obligation, and the law must be clear and public and tolerably fair.
Human nature being what it is, the choice is between the prince and the dragon. You give a tithe of your crop to the prince, or you watch your whole crop burn in the dragon’s breath. The dragon is not going to vanish, and you cannot reason with him. Utopia is not an option.
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
