South Korea

Patriotism for dark times

PNRJ core principles, current events, ethics, inequality, politics, public policy , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 18 JDN 2460814

These are dark times indeed. ICE is now arresting people without warrants, uniforms or badges and detaining them in camps without lawyers or trials. That is, we now have secret police who are putting people in concentration camps. Don’t mince words here; these are not “arrests” or “deportations”, because those actions would require warrants and due process of law.

Fascism has arrived in America, and, just as predicted, it is indeed wrapped in the flag.

I don’t really have anything to say to console you about this. It’s absolutely horrific, and the endless parade of ever more insane acts and violations of civil rights under Trump’s regime has been seriously detrimental to my own mental health and that of nearly everyone I know.

But there is something I do want to say:

I believe the United States of America is worth saving.

I don’t think we need to burn it all down and start with something new. I think we actually had something pretty good here, and once Trump is finally gone and we manage to fix some of the tremendous damage he has done, I believe that we can put better safeguards in place to stop something like this from happening again.

Of course there are many, many ways that the United States could be made better—even before Trump took the reins and started wrecking everything. But when we consider what we might have had instead, the United States turns out looking a lot better than most of the alternatives.

Is the United States especially evil?

Every nation in the world has darkness in its history. The United States is assuredly no exception: Genocide against Native Americans, slavery, Jim Crow, and the Japanese internment to name a few. (I could easily name many more, but I think you get the point.) This country is certainly responsible for a great deal of evil.

But unlike a lot of people on the left, I don’t think the United States is uniquely or especially evil. In fact, I think we have quite compelling reasons to think that the United States overall has been especially good, and could be again.

How can I say such a thing about a country that has massacred natives, enslaved millions, and launched a staggering number of coups?

Well, here’s the thing:

Every country’s history is like that.

Some are better or worse than others, but it’s basically impossible to find a nation on Earth that hasn’t massacred, enslaved, or conquered another group—and often all three. I guess maybe some of the very youngest countries might count, those that were founded by overthrowing colonial rule within living memory. But certainly those regions and cultures all had similarly dark pasts.

So what actually makes the United States different?

What is distinctive about the United States, relative to other countries? It’s large, it’s wealthy, it’s powerful; that is certainly all true. But other nations and empires have been like that—Rome once was, and China has gained and lost such status multiple times throughout its long history.

Is it especially corrupt? No, its corruption ratings are on a par with other First World countries.

Is it especially unequal? Compared to the rest of the First World, certainly; but by world standards, not really. (The world is a very unequal place.)

But there are two things about the United States that really do seem unique.

The first is how the United States was founded.

Some countries just sort of organically emerged. They were originally tribes that lived in that area since time immemorial, and nobody really knows when they came about; they just sort of happened.

Most countries were created by conquering or overthrowing some other country. Usually one king wanted some territory that was held by another king, so he gathered an army and took over that territory and said it was his now. Or someone who wasn’t a king really wanted to become one, so he killed the current king and took his place on the throne.

And indeed, for most of history, most nations have been some variant of authoritarianism. Monarchy was probably the most common, but there were also various kinds of oligarchy, and sometimes military dictatorship. Even Athens, the oldest recorded “democracy”, was really an oligarchy of Greek male property owners. (Granted, the US also started out pretty much the same way.)

I’m glossing over a huge amount of variation and history here, of course. But what I really want to get at is just how special the founding of the United States was.

The United States of America was the first country on Earth to be designed.

Up until that point, countries just sort of emerged, or they governed however their kings wanted, or they sort of evolved over time as different interest groups jockeyed for control of the oligarchy.

But the Constitution of the United States was something fundamentally new. A bunch of very smart, well-read, well-educated people (okay, mostly White male property owners, with a few exceptions) gathered together to ask the bold question: “What is the best way to run a country?”

And they discussed and argued and debated over this, sometimes finding agreement, other times reaching awkward compromises that no one was really satisfied with. But when the dust finally settled, they had a blueprint for a better kind of nation. And then they built it.

This was a turning point in human history.

Since then, hundreds of constitutions have been written, and most nations on Earth have one of some sort (and many have gone through several). We now think of writing a constitution as what you do to make a country. But before the United States, it wasn’t! A king just took charge and did whatever he wanted! There were no rules; there was no document telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

Most countries for most of history really only had one rule:

L’Etat, c’est moi.

Yes, there was some precedent for a constitution, even going all the way back to the Magna Carta; but that wasn’t created when England was founded, it was foisted upon the king after England had already been around for centuries. And it was honestly still pretty limited in how it restricted the king.

Now, it turns out that the Founding Fathers made a lot of mistakes in designing the Constitution; but I think this is quite forgivable, for two reasons:

  1. They were doing this for the first time. Nobody had ever written a constitution before! Nobody had governed a democracy (even of the White male property-owner oligarchy sort) in centuries!
  2. They knew they would make mistakes—and they included in the Constitution itself a mechanism for amending it to correct those mistakes.

And amend it we have, 27 times so far, most importantly the Bill of Rights and the Fifteenth and Nineteenth Amendments, which together finally created true universal suffrage—a real democracy. And even in 1920 when the Nineteenth Amendment was passed, this was an extremely rare thing. Many countries had followed the example of the United States by now, but only a handful of them granted voting rights to women.

The United States really was a role model for modern democracy. It showed the world that a nation governed by its own people could be prosperous and powerful.

The second is how the United States expanded its influence.

Many have characterized the United States as an empire, because its influence is so strongly felt around the world. It is undeniably a hegemon, at least.

The US military is the world’s most powerful, accounting for by far the highest spending (more than the next 9 countries combined!) and 20 of the world’s 51 aircraft carriers (China has 5—and they’re much smaller). (The US military is arguably not the largest since China has more soldiers and more ships. But US soldiers are much better trained and equipped, and the US Navy has far greater tonnage.) Most of the world’s currency exchange is done in dollars. Nearly all the world’s air traffic control is done in English. The English-language Internet is by far the largest, forming nearly the majority of all pages by itself. Basically every computer in the world either runs as its operating system Windows, Mac, or Linux—all of which were created in the United States. And since the US attained its hegemony after World War 2, the world has enjoyed a long period of relative peace not seen in centuries, sometimes referred to as the Pax Americana. These all sound like characteristics of an empire.

Yet if it is an empire, the United States is a very unusual one.

Most empires are formed by conquest: Rome created an empire by conquering most of Europe and North Africa. Britain created an empire by colonizing and conquering natives all around the globe.

Yet aside from the Native Americans (which, I admit, is a big thing to discount) and a few other exceptions, the United States engaged in remarkably little conquest. Its influence is felt as surely across the globe as Britain’s was at the height of the British Empire, yet where under Britain all those countries were considered holdings of the Crown (until they all revolted), under the Pax Americana they all have their own autonomous governments, most of them democracies (albeit most of them significantly flawed—including the US itself, these days).

That is, the United States does not primarily spread its influence by conquering other nations. It primarily spreads its influence through diplomacy and trade. Its primary methods are peaceful and mutually-beneficial. And the world has become tremendously wealthier, more peaceful, and all around better off because of this.

Yes, there are some nuances here: The US certainly has engaged in a large number of coups intended to decide what sort of government other countries would have, especially in Latin America. Some of these coups were in favor of democratic governments, which might be justifiable; but many were in favor of authoritarian governments that were simply more capitalist, which is awful. (Then again, while the US was instrumental in supporting authoritarian capitalist regimes in Chile and South Korea, those two countries did ultimately turn into prosperous democracies—especially South Korea.)

So it still remains true that the United States is guilty of many horrible crimes; I’m not disputing that. What I’m saying is that if any other nation had been in its place, things would most like have been worse. This is even true of Britain or France, which are close allies of the US and quite similar; both of these countries, when they had a chance at empire, took it by brutal force. Even Norway once had an empire built by conquest—though I’ll admit, that was a very long time ago.

I admit, it’s depressing that this is what a good nation looks like.

I think part of the reason why so many on the left imagine the United States to be uniquely evil is that they want to think that somewhere out there is a country that’s better than this, a country that doesn’t have staggering amounts of blood on its hands.

But no, this is pretty much as good as it gets. While there are a few countries with a legitimate claim to being better (mostly #ScandinaviaIsBetter), the vast majority of nations on Earth are not better than the United States; they are worse.

Humans have a long history of doing terrible things to other humans. Some say it’s in our nature. Others believe that it is the fault of culture or institutions. Likely both are true to some extent. But if you look closely into the history of just about anywhere on Earth, you will find violence and horror there.

What you won’t always find is a nation that marks a turning point toward global democracy, or a nation that establishes its global hegemony through peaceful and mutually-beneficial means. Those nations are few and far between, and indeed are best exemplified by the United States of America.

What is the point of democracy?

PNRJ cognitive science, core principles, critique of neoclassical economics, public policy , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Apr 9, JDN 2457853

[This topic was chosen by Patreon vote.]

“Democracy” is the sort of word that often becomes just an Applause Light (indeed it was the original example Less Wrong used). Like “freedom” and “liberty” (and for much the same reasons), it’s a good thing, that much we know; but it’s often unclear what is even meant by the word, much less why it should be so important to us.

From another angle, it is strangely common for economists and political scientists to argue that democracy is not all that important; they at least tend to use a precise formal definition of “democracy”, but are oddly quick to dismiss it as pointless or even harmful when it doesn’t line up precisely with their models of an efficient economy or society. I think the best example of this is the so-called “Downs paradox”, where political scientists were so steeped in the tradition of defining all rationality as psychopathic self-interest that they couldn’t even explain why it would occur to anyone to vote. (And indeed, rumor has it that most economists don’t bother to vote, much less campaign politically—which perhaps begins to explain why our economic policy is so terrible.)

Yet especially for Americans in the Trump era, I think it is vital to understand what “democracy” is supposed to mean, and why it is so important.

So, first of all, what is democracy? It is nothing more or less than government by popular vote.

This comes in degrees, of course: The purest direct democracy would have the entire population vote on even the most mundane policies and decisions. You could actually manage something like a monastery or a social club in such a fashion, but this is clearly unworkable on any large scale. Even once you get to hundreds of people, much less thousands or millions, it becomes unviable. The closest example I’ve seen is Switzerland, where there are always numerous popular referenda on ballots that are voted on by entire regions or the entire country—and even then, Switzerland does have representatives that make many of the day-to-day decisions.

So in practice all large-scale democratic systems are some degree of representative democracy, or republic, where some especially decisions may be made by popular vote, but most policies are made by elected representatives, staff appointed by those representatives, or even career civil servants who are appointed in a nominally apolitical process not so different from private-sector hiring. In the most extreme cases such civil servants can become so powerful that you get a deep state, where career bureaucrats exercise more power than elected officials—at that point I think you have actually lost the right to really call yourself a “democracy” and have become something more like a technocracy.
Yet of course a country can get even more undemocratic than that, and many are, governed by an aristocracy or oligarchy that vests power in a small number of wealthy and powerful individuals, or monarchy or autocracy that gives near-absolute power to a single individual.

Thus, there is a continuum of most to least democratic, with popular vote at one end, followed by elected representatives, followed by appointed civil servants, followed by a handful of oligarchs, and ultimately the most undemocratic system is an autocracy controlled by a single individual.

I also think it’s worth mentioning that constitutional monarchies with strong parliamentary systems, like the United Kingdom and Norway, are also “democracies” in the sense I intend. Yes, technically they have these hereditary monarchs—but in practice, the vast majority of the state’s power is vested in the votes of its people. Indeed, if we separate out parliamentary constitutional monarchy from presidential majoritarian democracy and compare them, the former might actually turn out to be better. Certainly, some of the world’s most prosperous nations are governed that way.

As I’ve already acknowledge, the very far extreme of pure direct democracy is unfeasible. But why would we want to get closer to that end? Why be like Switzerland or Denmark rather than like Turkey or Russia—or for that matter why be like California rather than like Mississippi?
Well, if you know anything about the overall welfare of these states, it almost seems obvious—Switzerland and Denmark are richer, happier, safer, healthier, more peaceful, and overall better in almost every way than Turkey and Russia. The gap between California and Mississippi is not as large, but it is larger than most people realize. Median household income in California is $64,500; in Mississippi it is only $40,593. Both are still well within the normal range of a highly-developed country, but that effectively makes California richer than Luxembourg but Mississippi poorer than South Korea. But perhaps the really stark comparison to make is life expectancy: Life expectancy at birth in California is almost 81 years, while in Mississippi it’s only 75.

Of course, there are a lot of other differences between states besides how much of their governance is done by popular referendum. Simply making Mississippi decide more things by popular vote would not turn it into California—much less would making Turkey more democratic turn it into Switzerland. So we shouldn’t attribute these comparisons entirely to differences in democracy. Indeed, a pair of two-way comparisons is only in the barest sense a statistical argument; we should be looking at dozens if not hundreds of comparisons if we really want to see the effects of democracy. And we should of course be trying to control for other factors, adjust for country fixed-effects, and preferably use natural experiments or instrumental variables to tease out causality.

Yet such studies have in fact been done. Stronger degrees of democracy appear to improve long-run economic growth, as well as reduce corruption, increase free trade, protect peace, and even improve air quality.

Subtler analyses have compared majoritarian versus proportional systems (where proportional seems, to me, at least, more democratic), as well as different republican systems with stronger or weaker checks and balances (stronger is clearly better, though whether that is “more democratic” is at least debatable). The effects of democracy on income distribution are more complicated, probably because there have been some highly undemocratic socialist regimes.

So, the common belief that democracy is good seems to be pretty well supported by the data. But why is democracy good? Is it just a practical matter of happening to get better overall results? Could it one day be overturned by some superior system such as technocracy or a benevolent autocratic AI?

Well, I don’t want to rule out the possibility of improving upon existing systems of government. Clearly new systems of government have in fact emerged over the course of history—Greek “democracy” and Roman “republic” were both really aristocracy, and anything close to universal suffrage didn’t really emerge on a large scale until the 20th century. So the 21st (or 22nd) century could well devise a superior form of government we haven’t yet imagined.
However, I do think there is good reason to believe that any new system of government that actually manages to improve upon democracy will still resemble democracy, because there are three key features democracy has that other systems of government simply can’t match. It is these three features that make democracy so important and so worth fighting for.

1. Everyone’s interests are equally represented.

Perhaps no real system actually manages to represent everyone’s interests equally, but the more democratic a system is, the better it will conform to this ideal. A well-designed voting system can aggregate the interests of an entire population and choose the course of action that creates the greatest overall benefit.

Markets can also be a good system for allocating resources, but while markets represent everyone’s interests, they do so highly unequally. Rich people are quite literally weighted more heavily in the sum.

Most systems of government do even worse, by completely silencing the voices of the majority of the population. The notion of a “benevolent autocracy” is really a conceit; what makes you think you could possibly keep the autocrat benevolent?

This is also why any form of disenfranchisement is dangerous and a direct attack upon democracy. Even if people are voting irrationally, against their own interests and yours, by silencing their voice you are undermining the most fundamental tenet of democracy itself. All voices must be heard, no exceptions. That is democracy’s fundamental strength.

2. The system is self-correcting.

This may more accurately describe a constitutional republican system with strong checks and balances, but that is what most well-functioning democracies have and it is what I recommend. If you conceive of “more democracy” as meaning that people can vote their way into fascism by electing a sufficiently charismatic totalitarian, then I do not want us to have “more democracy”. But just as contracts and regulations that protect you can make you in real terms more free because you can now safely do things you otherwise couldn’t risk, I consider strong checks and balances that maintain the stability of a republic against charismatic fascists to be in a deeper sense more democratic. This is ultimately semantic; I think I’ve made it clear enough that I want strong checks and balances.

With such checks and balances in place, democracies may move slower than autocracies; they may spend more time in deliberation or even bitter, polarized conflict. But this also means that their policies do not lurch from one emperor’s whim to another, and they are stable against being overtaken by corruption or fascism. Their policies are stable and predictable; their institutions are strong and resilient.

No other system of government yet devised by humans has this kind of stability, which may be why democracies are gradually taking over the world. Charismatic fascism fails when the charismatic leader dies; hereditary monarchy collapses when the great-grandson of the great king is incompetent; even oligarchy and aristocracy, which have at least some staying power, ultimately fall apart when the downtrodden peasants ultimately revolt. But democracy abides, for where monarchy and aristocracy are made of families and autocracy and fascism are made of a single man, democracy is made of principles and institutions. Democracy is evolutionarily stable, and thus in Darwinian terms we can predict it will eventually prevail.

3. The coercion that government requires is justified.

All government is inherently coercive. Libertarians are not wrong about this. Taxation is coercive. Regulation is coercive. Law is coercive. (The ones who go on to say that all government is “death threats” or “slavery” are bonkers, mind you. But it is in fact coercive.)

The coercion of government is particularly terrible if that coercion is coming from a system like an autocracy, where the will of the people is minimally if at all represented in the decisions of policymakers. Then that is a coercion imposed from outside, a coercion in the fullest sense, one person who imposes their will upon another.

But when government coercion comes from a democracy, it takes on a fundamentally different meaning. Then it is not they who coerce us—it is we who coerce ourselves. Now, why in the world would you coerce yourself? It seems ridiculous, doesn’t it?

Not if you know any game theory. There are in fall all sorts of reasons why one might want to coerce oneself, and two in particular become particularly important for the justification of democratic government.

The first and most important is collective action: There are many situations in which people all working together to accomplish a goal can be beneficial to everyone, but nonetheless any individual person who found a way to shirk their duty and not contribute could benefit even more. Anyone who has done a group project in school with a couple of lazy students in it will know this experience: You end up doing all the work, but they still get a good grade at the end. If everyone had taken the rational, self-interested action of slacking off, everyone in the group would have failed the project.

Now imagine that the group project we’re trying to achieve is, say, defending against an attack by Imperial Japan. We can’t exactly afford to risk that project falling through. So maybe we should actually force people to support it—in the form of taxes, or even perhaps a draft (as ultimately we did in WW2). Then it is no longer rational to try to shirk your duty, so everyone does their duty, the project gets done, and we’re all better off. How do we decide which projects are important enough to justify such coercion? We vote, of course. This is the most fundamental justification of democratic government.

The second that is relevant for government is commitment. There are many circumstances in which we want to accomplish something in the future, and from a long-run perspective it makes sense to achieve that goal—but then when the time comes to take action, we are tempted to procrastinate or change our minds. How can we resolve such a dilemma? Well, one way is to tie our own hands—to coerce ourselves into carrying out the necessary task we are tempted to avoid or delay.

This applies to many types of civil and criminal law, particularly regarding property ownership. Murder is a crime that most people would not commit even if it were completely legal. But shoplifting? I think if most people knew there would be no penalty for petty theft and retail fraud they would be tempted into doing it at least on occasion. I doubt it would be frequent enough to collapse our entire economic system, but it would introduce a lot of inefficiency, and make almost everything more expensive. By having laws in place that punish us for such behavior, we have a way of defusing such temptations, at least for most people most of the time. This is not as important for the basic functioning of government as is collective action, but I think it is still important enough to be worthy of mention.

Of course, there will always be someone who disagrees with any given law, regardless of how sensible and well-founded that law may be. And while in some sense “we all” agreed to pay these taxes, when the IRS actually demands that specific dollar amount from you, it may well be an amount that you would not have chosen if you’d been able to set our entire tax system yourself. But this is a problem of aggregation that I think may be completely intractable; there’s no way to govern by consensus, because human beings just can’t achieve consensus on the scale of millions of people. Governing by popular vote and representation is the best alternative we’ve been able to come up with. If and when someone devises a system of government that solves that problem and represents the public will even better than voting, then we will have a superior alternative to democracy.

Until then, it is as Churchill said: “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.”